Page 16 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

I reached out, letting my fingers trace the curve of her jaw. “Long enough.”

A flush of pink crept across her cheeks. She ducked her head, focusing on Beretta’s ears. “How much did you hear?”

I quirked a smile; deciding honesty was the only path forward. “Pretty much all of it.”

She exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping a fraction. “Great.”

“It is great, actually,” I challenged, shifting closer until our knees touched through the layers of blankets. “Because it means I don’t have to guess what’s going on in that head of yours anymore.”

Her gaze flicked to mine, then away. “Nothing’s going on. I was just talking to Beretta.”

I studied her face in profile—the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she was deliberately avoiding my eyes. My Omega was a fighter, there was no question about that. But some battles weren’t meant to be fought alone.

“You’ve been taking care of everyone,” I dove in carefully. “Making sure Tommy takes his meds, changing Gio’s bandages, keeping track of Marco’s recovery. Handling all the cooking, the cleaning, tending to Beretta with his injury.”

She shrugged, the movement small. “Someone has to do it.”

“Yes, but not just you.” I placed my hand over hers where it rested on Beretta’s back. “Not always you, Kitten.”

Something flickered across her face—a hairline crack in the facade. “I don’t mind. Really, I—”

“I know you don’t mind,” I interrupted gently. “That’s the problem. You’d run yourself into the ground before admitting you need help.”

Her fingers twitched beneath mine. “You’re my pack. My family. I need to—”

“To be strong for them,” I finished. “I get it. Believe me. Better than you might think.”

She finally looked at me fully, those pretty ice-blue eyes searching my face. I let her look, let her see beneath my usual composed expression to the understanding I knew she’d find beneath it all.

“For years,” I continued, “I did the same thing. Carried everything on my shoulders because I thought that’s what it meant to be the head of this family. This pack. Every problem, every threat, every decision—mine to bear alone.”

Surprise played across her features as she listened.

“I didn’t want my brothers to worry. Didn’t want them to see how fucking terrified I was sometimes that I’d make the wrong call and lose everything.” I ran a hand through my hair, the admission still uncomfortable even now. “I thought being strong meant never showing weakness.”

“Isn’t it?” she whispered.

I shook my head, a sad smile touching my lips. “No. And do you know who taught me that?”

Her brow furrowed in question.

“You did,” I said simply. “From the first moment I saw you, refusing to break despite what happened to you. When you bravely accepted us as your pack and decided to stay. When you trusted us with your pain instead of hiding it. That wasn’t weakness, Kit. That was the bravest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t look away this time.

I leaned forward slightly, dropping my voice. “The thing is, I’ve learned there’s strength in being vulnerable. In letting others in.Youtaught me that, Kitten.”

Beretta shifted between us, sensing the intensity of the moment. Kit’s hand automatically resumed its gentle stroking of his fur, a self-soothing gesture as much as comfort for the dog.

“That’s what a pack is,” I continued. “It’s being there for each other, not just when things are good, but when things are falling apart. It’s okay to lean on us, to let us carry some of this weight. You’re our center. Our whole damn world. We’re here for you—desperate to take care of you, to be what you need, whenever you need it.”

Something changed in her expression then, a subtle softening around her mouth, that vulnerability I’d missed seeing in her eyes. Her shoulders dropped a fraction more, the rigid line of her spine easing just slightly.

“I...” she started, then stopped, seeming to struggle with the words. “I’m used to holding everything in when things get bad. I… I don’t want to add to your burden. Everyone has been hurt, and I almost lost you…allof you at once.” She sniffled.

I reached out, my hand finding her shoulder. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You have us, Kit. And we’re not going anywhere.”

She looked away, staring absently out the window, doing everything in her power to blink back the tears she was trying not to shed. “I don’t know how to stop trying to hold it all together. I’m scared... of being weak. Of not being enough for you.”

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