Page 55 of Knot Like Other Girls

I snort. "Yeah, didn't think so. But you're going to anyway."

Cole's lip curls, baring teeth on the unscarred side of his face too. "And what are you going to do if I refuse?"

"Nothing," I say calmly. "But you owe me the truth, brother. If something's compromising your ability to do this job?—"

"I'm fine," he snarls.

"Bullshit." I take a step closer, dropping my voice. "You're not fine. None of us are fine. And this situation?" I gesture vaguely, encompassing everything—the penthouse, our client, the mate bond none of us were prepared for. "This is fucking with all of us. But you're taking it harder than most."

"Because I'm broken." The bitterness in his voice cuts like a knife.

"Because you're scared," I correct quietly. "And you have every right to be. After what happened with Sarah?—"

"Don't." The word comes out like it's been ripped from his throat. "Don't say her name."

I fall silent, watching as he struggles to maintain control. His hands are clenched into fists like he's ready to hit me, too, fresh blood welling up from his split knuckles.

"She's not Sarah," I say finally.

Cole's laugh is a harsh, broken sound. "No. She's worse."

"How do you figure?"

"Because Sarah was just my mate. Bella..." He trails off, swallowing hard. "Bella's ours. All of us. And when she runs—because she will run, Roman—it's not just going to destroy me this time. It's going to destroy all of us."

The raw honesty in his voice hits me hard. Because he's right, at least partly. If Bella rejects us, it will hurt. More than any bullet or blade ever could.

But he's wrong about one thing.

"She's not going to run," I say with a certainty I didn't know I possessed until this moment.

Cole's head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because she came after you today," I point out. "She saw you at your worst. Covered in blood, rage pouring off you in waves. And instead of running away, she followed you. Tried to help you. Hell, she's in there right now getting supplies to patch you up."

He says nothing, but I can see my words hitting home.

"And that wooden duck you carved her?" I continue, pressing my advantage. "She hasn't let go of it since you gave it to her. Keeps running her fingers over it like it's the most precious thing in the world."

A shudder runs through Cole's massive frame. "That doesn't mean anything."

"It means everything," I counter. "It means she sees past all the rage, the pain, the scars. She sees you, Cole. The real you."

Cole looks away, his scarred face half-hidden by his stark white hair. But I see the way his hands tremble, the barely perceptible hitch in his breathing.

He's having a panic attack.

"And Cole," I continue, "we're pack. Your pain is our pain. Your fight is our fight."

"Pretty words," he growls, but I catch the slight tremor in his voice. "Doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it?" I take a step closer, noting how he tenses but doesn't retreat. "You gave her a carving, Cole. You didn't have to do that. You could have stayed closed off, kept your distance. But you reached out—and I know you don't do shit like that for just anyone."

That hits home. I see it in the way his shoulders hunch, the way his eyes dart away from mine. He's looking for an escape route, and for a moment, I think he might actually try to bolt.

"Don't," I warn, shifting my stance subtly to block his path. "I will take you down if I have to, brother."

A low growl rumbles in his chest. "You think you can stop me?"

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