Page 14 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

“She’s not sleeping,” Tommy murmured while she was out of earshot. “Not unless we’re all with her.”

“And she jumps at every goddamn noise,” Gio added, wincing as he shifted in his chair. “Car backfired yesterday on a T.V. show and I thought she was going to crawl out of her skin.”

Tommy looked down at his hands. “She’s scared of losing us.”

A simple truth, spoken with the quiet insight my youngest brother often surprised us with. Kit had already lost so much in her life. The idea of losing us—her mates, her pack, her family—was unbearable. I understood that fear better than most.

“I’ll talk to her.”

I found Kit in the kitchen, standing rigidly before the counter. The electric kettle hummed beside her, but she wasn’t moving to prepare the tea. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the marble, her breathing deliberate and measured—the kind of breathing someone does when they’re trying not to fall apart.

For a moment, I just watched her. My mate, the center of our world, trying to hold everything together alone. Protectiveness surged through me, my Alpha instincts needing to fix this… To help somehow.

I approached slowly, making sure she could hear me coming so I wouldn’t startle her. When I placed my hands gently on her shoulders, I felt the tremors running through her body.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Kitten,” I murmured, my thumbs working small circles against the knots I found in her tense muscles.

For a heartbeat, I thought she might finally break—might turn and let me see whatever storm was raging inside her. She did turn, but the storm was carefully contained behind a smile I didn’t believe for a second.

“I’m fine. Really.”

I didn’t push. Forcing Kit to open up would only make her retreat further. Instead, I reached past her to shut off the kettle, then gathered the mugs she’d set out.

“Let me help with this, at least.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I said firmly, meeting her gaze. “Let me do this for you.”

Something complicated flickered across her face—relief, maybe, or guilt—before she nodded. We worked in silence for a few moments, her preparing the tea while I arranged everything on a tray. The domestic simplicity of the task felt importantsomehow; a small moment where she finally let me share the burden.

“They’re getting better. Tommy, Gio, Marco, even Beretta.”

A genuine smile touched her lips at the mention of our dog. While their relationship had started off rocky, he’d quickly grown on her. “He was so loyal. He stayed with Tommy the whole time...”

“And I’m grateful,” I conceded. “But my point is, they’re healing. You don’t have to monitor every breath they take.”

Her movements stilled. “I know that. I just... I need to be sure they’re okay.”

I nodded, understanding more than she knew. “I get it.”

The moment stretched between us, heavy with all the things she wasn’t saying—all the things I wanted to hear. But pushing Kit never worked. She’d been pushed around enough in her life.

As she lifted the tray, I caught another glimpse of the shadows beneath her eyes—evidence of the nights of broken sleep and the strain of her constant vigilance.

I glanced between Tommy and Gio as we reentered the living room. Without a word, we reached an unspoken understanding—our Omega needed to heal just as much as we did. And if she wouldn’t ask for help, we’d have to find another way to give it to her.

I woke to cold sheets where Kit should have been. My hand instinctively reached for her in the darkness, finding only the lingering warmth of where she’d lain. Beside me, Gio shifted in his sleep, his arm thrown over his eyes while Marco and Tommy snored softly from the far side of our massive bed. But no Kit.

She’d gone to bed early—alone. By the time I’d slid under the covers hours later, she’d already fallen asleep, or at least pretended to be. Either way, she was gone now.

The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:17 AM. Too early for her to be starting her day, even with her newly developed ‘nursing’ schedule. Concern tightened in my chest as I carefully extracted myself from the bed, pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants before padding silently into the hallway.

The penthouse was quiet. Tommy’s room, which he rarely used anymore, was undisturbed, as was Gio’s, Marco’s, and mine. Heading downstairs, I moved through the kitchen first—no Kit. The living room was empty except for Tommy’s discarded book on the coffee table. The bathroom door stood open, no light spilling from within, and the office and library were empty as well.

My steps quickened as I approached the east wing of the penthouse, where we’d set up a casual nest that looked out over the city. It was a space my brothers and I privately called ‘Kit’s sanctuary.’ Now that we had an Omega, the nook was filled with soft blankets and plush pillows. It was one of the safe spaces she retreated to when the world became too much, though she typically didn’t go there in the middle of the night without telling one of us.

The soft glow of a lamp was my first clue that I’d found her. I approached slowly, not wanting to startle her if she’d finally found a moment of peace. The sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks.

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