Page 18 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

“Why don’t we start with going to bed again? Together this time?”

A genuine smile touched her lips—small and tentative, but real. And that vulnerability I’d asked for was back in her eyes, shining like stars in a sapphire sky.

“I’ll hold you all night,” I promised. “And I’ll chase away the bad dreams.”

“Okay,” she whispered, and in that single word, I heard more of those walls she’d built around herself crumble.

It wasn’t a complete surrender, not yet. But it was a new beginning, and for tonight, that was enough.

eight

KITANIA

I ran harder,my sneakers pounding against the moving belt of the treadmill. Sweat poured down my face, soaking through my thin tank top until it clung to me like a second skin. The digital display blurred as I jabbed at the buttons, increasing the speed until my lungs burned.

Pain. I needed more of it. Physical pain was tangible, controllable—so much better than the memories that had jolted me awake an hour ago.

The weight of the weapon in my hand.

The deafening echo of gunshots.

Vincent’s dead eyes staring back at me.

I gripped the handrails, my knuckles bleeding white. Every muscle in my legs screamed in protest, but I pushed harder, craving the hypnotic thump, thump, thump of my footfalls that almost—almost—drowned out the nightmare.

If I ran fast enough, maybe I could outrun what I’d become. Maybe I could leave behind the woman who’d pulled the trigger.The woman who’d watched the light fade from a man’s eyes and felt...relieved.

And that was the crux of it. The reaction, the relief. I hated that I’d had to shoot someone—that I’d killed a man—but I was also happy he was dead. That he couldn’t hurt me or others anymore. That he wasn’t a threat to my mates.

But what kind of person did that make me?

Dimitri had promised that it got easier with time, andGod… I hoped that was true.

Suddenly, a hand reached past me, punching at the controls.

“Slow down, Sweetness,” Giovanni’s voice sliced through my haze.

I hadn’t heard him enter the gym. Hadn’t noticed his presence until he was right beside me. I stumbled, caught off-guard by the sudden change in pace.

My singular focus had been to run faster, push harder, escape the memories, but all that shattered as I slowly drew to a stop. I glanced over, panting hard, to find my Alpha standing by the treadmill.

Dressed in black joggers and a fitted tee, he looked every bit the fighter—broad chest, ink peeking out from above his neckline, and eyes that didn’t miss a thing; concern etched deep.

He knew exactly what I was doing—punishing my body until I couldn’t keep going, until exhaustion finally dragged me under.

“You can’t outrun your demons this way,” he said softly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

I stood there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my temples. My legs trembled from the exertion as I braced myself against the handrails, turning away, avoiding his gaze. I felt suddenly exposed, as if he could see straight through to the dark questions churning inside me.

The silence stretched, and when I finally found my voice, it emerged as a raw whisper. “I’m not who I was before.”

Giovanni stepped closer, movements deliberate yet gentle, like he was approaching a wounded animal. He reached out, a calloused hand capturing my chin, tilting my head up until I had no choice but to meet his eyes. His expression held no pity, only understanding—the look of someone who had walked through his own darkness and survived to tell the tale.

“No, you’re not,” he agreed, his thumb brushing along the line of my bottom lip. The simple touch sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cooling sweat on my skin. “You’re stronger. You’re a survivor. A fighter.”

Something shifted inside me at his conviction—a tiny spark that cut through the shadow of doubt. His scent—earth, iron, and notes that were uniquely him—grounded me in the present.

Those eyes that always saw straight through me held mine, and I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

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