Page 72 of Break Me Knot

“Haven did change, though. When Sylvia Mercer became the facility’s director and omega attendance was mandatory. I didn't experience them, but...” She trails off, looking troubled. “It was such a shame when she won the director position after Thomas Richardson. He was such a lovely man.”

The name catches my attention. “Richardson?”

“Oh yes.” Sophie's face brightens with genuine fondness. “That alpha really understood omegas. Treated us like people, not just designations. He gave us driving lessons which he taught personally. Said omegas should be independent and capable.” Her smile fades. “Everything Mercer later dismantled.”

“Could he help us understand what happened?” Zane leans forward, his face sharpening with interest.

Sophie's face falls, and she clutches Isabella closer, as if protecting her from bad news. “Oh... you didn't hear about it? There wasn’t a lot of reporting on the tragedy come to think of it. It happened so long ago when you were busy starting Pinnacle. Thomas is dead. His whole pack too, except for their omega, that is. It was terrible.” She swallows hard. “No one expected their deaths because Thomas was always so careful. Such a good driver.”

“Sophie, how did Thomas die?” I ask, needing to know the answer and not wanting to hear it at the same time.

“This just never made sense to me because taking extra precautions was something he drummed into all of us, especially if we travel as a pack.” Sophie blinks wetness from her eyes as she looks at me. “His whole pack died in a car accident. All of them. Except their omega, Aubrey.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mira

Iscroll through the photos I took this morning, curled in my nest with the emerald pillow hugged to my chest. The penthouse provided endless subjects, rare winter sunlight streaming through windows, casting long shadows across polished floors. The careful arrangement of books in the library, leather spines gleaming. Fresh flowers in crystal vases, each petal perfect. The way dust motes danced in the air. Little details of a life I can't have for long. Moments of beauty I wantto preserve.

I’ve taken photos of the places I’ve interacted with the alphas. The living room sofas where we’ve watched movies. The armchair where Adrian helped me through the strange heat spike. The kitchen where Cole cooked me chicken soup when they first brought me here. Their bedrooms. Bathrooms. The rooftop garden. Even the laundry room.

I flip to the next photo. Zane's face fills the screen, eyes crossed and tongue out, making me smile despite myself. The next shot catches Adrian mid-laugh, his usually controlled expression open and warm. The camera captured them perfectly—Zane’s playful spirit, Adrian's hidden softness. Heat pools in my belly as I remember Zane's kisses under the fairy lights. How safe I felt, how wanted, how...normal.

I have to be honest with myself… I'm falling for them. How could I not, when they treat me with such gentle care? When they give without demanding, protect without imprisoning? Their scents break down my carefully constructed defenses faster than I can rebuild them, making me want impossible things.

Guilt churns in my stomach. These are good men, successful alphas with everything to lose. If Mercer finds me here... or if Senator Hardwick discovers who's hiding me... I'll bring nothing but destruction to their lives. Sylvia Mercer and Evelyn Hardwick are powerful women, and both have a lot to lose if their secrets come out.

I know what happens to omegas like me, especially in the illegal flesh trade. Although omegas have limited rights, slavery is against the law for everyone, regardless of designation. The future that awaited Emma, Leah, and me could imprison them for life, not to mention that the methods and torture they inflicted are also unlawful. If they discovered my existence, they'd have a vested interest in silencing me and anyone I might have confided in.

I must protect my alphas. When I run I'll take this phone. Another thing to be guilty about, but at least I'll have these photographs. Physical proof that, for a brief moment, I lived in this beautiful world. That I knew what it felt like to be cared for, to be wanted, to be... loved?

I loved my mom and dad. That was natural, but when it comes from these alphas, my emotions are so muchmore.

Bigger.

What I feel begins with their scents that dissolve into my bloodstream and infuse into every cell in my body until theybecomeme. I wonder what they’re doing. What they’re thinking about. The urge to be around them is all-the-time, undeniable. Unending.

My skin tingles, pining to touch them. I burn to take them in my body. To taste them. To see them. To hear their voices. My heart flutters when I talk to them. I want to hear what they have to say. I want to understand everything about them. I’m consumed by them just because they exist.

My heart and my mind clash, shattered fragments move and shift and lock into a new pattern, broken but not as jagged. Not as disjointed. And I think…I think those pieces belong to my heart.

The only thing that is uncomfortable is the scratching heat under my skin. Sometimes, when I’m busy I don’t notice the heat, but when I’m still and I think of them, hundreds of little claws start digging into my bones. What I feel for them is happening too fast and without any logic behind it. I don’t really understand it.

Maybe I’m just so damn lonely I blow up any kindness out of proportion. Maybe I feel things I imagine are there. Maybe I feel all the feels I wish were mine to have.

My thumb hovers over the photos, and I realize what's missing. Cole. I have no shots of his quiet strength, his haunted eyes, his cautious kindness. The thought of leaving without capturing him, without having something to remember him by, is too wrong.

Throughout the day, I caught glimpses of Cole checking on me, a shadow in doorways, the brush of his scent before he disappeared into his bedroom. Each time, I wanted to chase after him, to understand why he keeps his distance when his scent calls to something deep inside me, but now I hear the familiar rhythm of fists hitting a punching bag, and something tweaks inside me.

I need to see him.

I ease out of my closet nest, phone clutched like a talisman drawn by the invisible cord that connects us. The gym is at the far end of the penthouse, and with each step, Cole's scent grows stronger. I expected a training space to smell of stale sweat and rubber, but his scent has infused every surface, rich and potent. The scratching in my bones turns into a simmer and my core clenches. I peek around the corner and... oh.

Cole doesn’t just move. Heflows. All controlled power and lethal grace. He's shirtless, sweat gleaming on tanned skin as he works the heavy bag. Muscles flex and bunch with each precise strike, tattoos shifting across his broad shoulders like living art. His dark hair is damp, falling across his forehead as he maintains a brutal rhythm. There's something hypnotic about his movements, each punch calculated, each shift of his body purposeful.

My mouth dries. Heat pools low in my belly as I watch him, unable to look away. This is different from his usual contained presence. He is beautiful with his intensity. The power in his frame should frighten me, but it doesn’t. The cord pulling me to him grows tighter, making me step into the room and lift the phone. My finger presses the camera button, capturing the moment he throws a particularly powerful combination.

The sound of his measured inhales, the sharp crack of fists meeting leather, the way his scent fills the space, all combine to make my head swim. I want to bare my throat, to submit, to have those strong hands on my skin. His scent is strongest here, undiluted by those of his brothers, and the yearning in my chest almost makes me call out to him.

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