Page 79 of Break Me Knot

“One thing led to another, and she went into early heat. She was far too young; it shouldn't have happened. Took us both by surprise.” His voice breaks, and I hear him thump his head against the door. “Triggered my rut. We were too young to control our pheromones, too inexperienced to understand the dangers.”

He shifts against the door, his scent souring. Raw anguish threads through his words. “I was out of my mind in rut. I'd just... I'd just bitten her when she started seizing. I called the university medics, but...” He stops, and I can hear him fighting for control, his breath coming in harsh gasps. “She died on the way to the hospital.”

The silence stretches, heavy with his pain. When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper, shattered and young. “Her body wasn't developed enough for a heat. She had a weakness in her DNA. Undiagnosed. Unknown.”

His guilt wraps around me stronger than his scent, and suddenly his distance makes terrible sense. The way he holds himself apart, the fear in his eyes when he looks at me, the careful control he maintains. It's all because of Lily.

Because he thinks he killed her. My broken parts shift and crackle as though they’re making space for pieces that aren’t my own.

I manage to find my voice after a cramp steals my breath for a moment. “It wasn't your fault, Cole. You were both so young. You couldn't have known.”

“That's what everyone says,” he responds, bitter and broken. “Adrian, Zane, the doctors, even Lily's parents. But hearing it and believing it...” He trails off. “How do you believe something when the evidence of your destruction is right there in front of you?”

Silence draws between us. He's tried to erase what happened with Lily through self-recrimination. Through denying himself, but I see a man who cares so deeply, he hasn't been able to heal that wound. Cole is a good man who feels deeper than anyone I know. His pain echoes my own, a mirror of guilt and regret.

“I understand…I understand how it feels when you're responsible for the deaths of people you love.” The words come easier than they should, maybe because of the pain fogging my mind, or maybe because it's Cole on the other side of the door.

The pause is long, heavy. His scent shifts with surprise, with recognition of shared pain. “Who?” he asks finally, the word barely audible. There's no judgment in his voice, just quiet acknowledgment of another soul carrying the same burden.

I shouldn't tell him about my parents. Haven't told anyone except Emma and Leah, and that was only because they were there in the aftermath. They understood because they were orphaned, too. But Cole... Colewillunderstand that sort of loss because he’s lived it.

He won't offer empty comfort or useless platitudes just like I won’t give them to him. Sometimes bad things happen and there's no pretty bow to tie around the tragedy. There’s no way to describe how different life is after loss like that. Death doesn’t carve you cleanly; it drags its claws through the marrow of who you are. And the worst part is that I resent the world for continuing to spin. For daring to hum with life when mine ended with the death of my parents.

Cole knows. I see it in the way his gaze lingers on my scars—not with pity, but recognition. We’re both ghosts, stitching ourselves back into shapes that don’tquite fit. No, there’s no bow. Just the frayed edges of what’s left, and the quiet understanding that some wounds don’t close.

The words push up my throat, bursting to come out but this time I don’t stuff them down. Maybe it’s because I’m so heavy I’m suffocating and I need, just once, to let out my deepest, darkest secret of that day.

I stuff my fist against my teeth and whisper. “My parents died because of me.”

The silence that follows draws on, but it’s filled with understanding. And somehow, sharing that weight with Cole makes everything just a little lighter. Even as my body burns with pain, even as pleasure turns to torture, there's something almost comforting about being understood so completely.

“Oh, Sweetness. I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

I swallow back the thickness in my throat. “Yeah. So am I.”

I hear a few muffled thumps, and I realize he’s tapping the back of his head against the door between us. Then Cole's weight shifts away from the door and muffled steps on the carpet fade. But for once, the absence of pressure doesn’t hollow me out. He’s not rattling the doorknob. Not forcing me to let him offer me comfort because it makes him feel better. Cole just… lets me exist. Even when I’m fractured.

BecauseI’m fractured.

Our kiss lingers on my bruised mouth—desperate and starved, my teeth trace his lip. I remember how he froze, his hands fisting in my hair as if I embodied the perfect fusion of salvation and sin. It changed things. Carved a fault line between who we were and whatever jagged thing we are now. He doesn’t expect me to stitch myself into the shape of Lily’s ghost for him. Just like he doesn’t try to sand down his edges to fit me.

My attention locks on soft footfalls outside the door. He’s back. I recognize the cadence of his steps—deliberate, weighted, like he’s marching to his own execution. His scent seeps under the door, his fresh pine scent overpowering aged leather. He doesn’t speak for a moment. Doesn’t knock. Just… exists there.

“Mira.” My name cracks in his throat. “I, uh. Have something. For you.” A rustle of fabric, then a shaky exhale. “I kept telling myself there’d be a perfecttime to give this to you, but fuck, I’ve been… I’ve had my head so far up my own ass I could’ve auditioned as a fucking colonoscopy dummy.”

A humorless laugh punches out of me. “Cole—”

“Let me say this. Please.” His palm taps the door, not in anger, but like he’s steadying himself. “I’m sorry. Not just for today. For… for making you think I didn’t want you. That’s—fuck. That’s so far from the truth it’s laughable. I just… I didn’t think I deserved to want anything after Lily. Let alone you.”

I clutch my abdomen as I sit up, pressing my forehead to the door. Inhaling the pine that drives the ache away just that little bit.

“I’ve been selfish,” he grinds out. “To Adrian and Zane. To you. Letting my guilt poison every goddamn choice. But I’m done. I won’t… I won’t stand in your way. With them. With… anyone. You deserve peace. I don’t want you all to be unhappy because of me. I’m going to…I’ll leave, Mira. I’ll leave the pack because you deserve so much more than me.”

Leaving. The word detonates in my chest. Every cell in my body goes rigid as heat of another kind sweeps through me. What he’s saying is so wrong. Too wrong.

A beat. An object glints as it’s pushed under the door—a golden heart pendant, chain coiled neatly beside it. My breath catches.My locket.The one I thought I’d lost but now it’s repaired. The gold glints, buffed and shining like new. The broken link in the chain is fixed. I fit my nail between the halves and open the heart, the hinge now working, and I see Mom’s smile, no longer blurred by water damage or mold. Dad’s arm around my shoulders, creases smoothed. The frayed white edges around the photo are clean and colorful.

“I picked up the locket when we found you in your apartment,” Cole says, voice muffled through the door. “I had it restored. I meant to tell you sooner but—” A bitter laugh. “Figured you’d hate me for hoarding it. Another reason to add to the list, right?”

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