Page 7 of Knot Like Other Girls

Caruso looks annoyed for a moment, but Roman's massive frame and unwavering stare seem to remind him why he hired us in the first place. He releases the omega with a grunt, smoothing down his expensive suit.

"Of course," he says, all oily charm again. "Lead the way, my friend."

As Roman guides Caruso away, I catch the omega's eye and give her a reassuring nod. She scurries off, looking relieved.

"Nice save," Liam rumbles as he passes by, his Irish accent thick with disapproval. "Although I wouldn't have minded a more violent distraction. Preferably right between his eyes."

"We're supposed to be protecting the asshole, remember?" I point out, although he isn't wrong.

He snorts. "A pity."

As Liam moves off to do another sweep of the perimeter, I can't help but marvel at how we ended up here. Five alphas, all with enough baggage to sink a cruise ship, trying to play nice with the upper crust of Sicilian society.

A burst of laughter draws my attention back to Savva, who's now entertaining a small crowd with what appears to be a magictrick involving a champagne flute and a silk handkerchief. Show-off.

"I swear, that boy missed his calling," Liam grumbles as he sidles up next to me. "Should've been on the stage instead of the battlefield."

I smirk. "Jealous of his social butterfly status?"

Liam snorts. "Please. I'd rather gargle glass than make small talk with these preening peacocks."

"Careful there, big guy. Your disdain for the upper class is showing."

He grins, a flash of white teeth against his short, well-groomed beard. "Good. Wouldn't want them to think I actually like them."

I'm about to reply when I catch sight of Cole, still lurking in his corner but now visibly tense. His eyes are fixed on something across the room, his hand twitching toward the concealed weapon I know he's carrying.

"Liam," I murmur, nodding in Cole's direction. "You see that?"

Liam's eyes narrow. "What's got our ghost so spooked?"

I scan the room, trying to follow Cole's line of sight. That's when I see them—three men in expensive suits, moving through the crowd with purpose. They're trying to be subtle, but there's a predatory grace to their movements that sets off all my internal alarms.

"Shit," I mutter. "We've got company."

Liam's already moving, his massive frame parting the crowd like the Red Sea. I tap my earpiece, alerting the others.

"Heads up, boys. We've got three tangos approaching Caruso's position. Roman, you've got eyes on the package?"

Roman's voice crackles in my ear. "Affirmative. Moving to intercept."

I weave through the crowd, all senses on high alert. The air feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm. Across the room, I see Savva smoothly extricating himself from his admirers, his charming smile never faltering even as his eyes go cold and calculating.

We converge on Caruso just as the three men reach him. Roman's already there, a human wall between our client and the potential threat. Cole materializes out of nowhere, taking up position on Caruso's other side.

"Gentlemen," Roman says, his voice low and dangerous. "This is a private party. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

The leader of the trio, a weaselly-looking guy with a scar on his chin, smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "We have business with Don Caruso. Step aside."

I feel rather than see Liam and Savva move into position behind me, boxing the intruders in. The tension in the air is thick enough to choke on.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Roman replies, not budging an inch. "Any business you have with the Don can be conducted through proper channels. Now, I won't ask again. Leave."

Weasel Face's hand twitches toward his jacket, and suddenly everything happens at once.

Cole moves like lightning, his fist connecting with Weasel Face's jaw before the guy can even blink. Liam roars, a primal sound that sends nearby guests scrambling for cover, as he tackles one of the other goons. I barely have time to register Savva smoothly disarming the third man before I'm moving, helping Roman hustle Caruso toward the exit.

The ballroom erupts into chaos. Screams and shattering glass provide a chaotic soundtrack as we push our way through the panicking crowd.

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