Page 87 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

My breath caught as he leaned in, one large hand cupping the back of my neck while the other settled possessively on my hip. When our lips met, molten heat curled through me. I melted into him, fingers threading through his short dark hair as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, sensual dance that made my whole body sing.

Dimitri pressed closer, the hard planes of his chest against mine, and I wrapped my legs around his waist to keep him there. His hand slid under the hem of my workout tank, rough fingers skimming over the sensitive skin of my waist, making me gasp into his mouth.

Just as things were getting interesting, the shrill ring of his phone cut through the moment. Dimitri pulled back with a sigh, his forehead resting against mine for a brief second before he reached for his pocket.

“Cristenello,” he answered, voice still husky from our kiss.

I watched as his expression shifted, the warm, attentive mate replaced by the dangerous mafia boss in the span of a heartbeat. His jaw tightened, brows drawing together as he listened to whoever was on the other end.

“I’ll handle it,” he said finally, then ended the call. When he looked at me again, there was genuine regret in his eyes. He winced apologetically, pointing toward his office.

“I need to call Emilio.”

I understood immediately. “Go,” I said softly, blowing him a kiss. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Dimitri pressed his lips to my forehead before striding toward his office, already dialing, then closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow felt like a physical separation between us. Through our bond, I could feel his agitation, the sharp edges of anger and concern that he was trying to contain.

I sighed, hopping down from the counter to free each cheesecake and transfer them to cooling racks. It had taken mea while to come to terms with the private parts of Dimitri’s life—things he kept separate for my protection, as much as for business reasons. I knew he’d open up to me when he was ready, when he could, but there would always be some aspects of his life that he kept locked away.

As I moved around the kitchen, I became more aware of the bonds connecting me to each of my mates. Marco and Tommy were the farthest away now, their presence in my mind growing more stretched and strained with physical distance. I could still feel their excitement—Tommy’s especially—probably as they argued over who would drive on the way back.

Gio’s thread was much closer, warm and content as he showered upstairs. I could almost feel the hot water soothing his muscles, easing the strain of the increased difficulty in his training routine as he prepared for his next fight. The thought still made my stomach clench uneasily—I hated the idea of anyone taking a jab at my mate—but I’d promised myself I’d grit my teeth and be supportive. It was important to him, so it was important to me.

Dimitri’s presence was nearest and strongest, despite the closed door, his tension a counterpoint to Gio’s relaxation. Whatever call he’d received, it wasn’t good news.

I was placing my mini spring-form pans into the sink when the penthouse door burst open with such force that I jumped, nearly dropping everything.

Enzo appeared in the kitchen doorway, breathless and wild-eyed. “Kit! It’s Beretta,” he gasped, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door. “Something’s wrong with him.”

My heart lurched in my chest as I followed Enzo into the hallway. Outside, Niles was already on the phone, his usual composed demeanor replaced by urgent tension as he spoke rapidly to someone—the vet, I gathered from the fragments of conversation I could hear.

Beretta lay on the floor, his powerful body convulsing with labored breaths. The sight of our strong, proud dog reduced to this pitiful state made tears spring to my eyes. When he saw me, he let out a weak whine, his brown eyes seeming to beg for help. I dropped to my knees, hand hovering over his short, dark coat.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Enzo said, voice tight with what sounded like genuine fear. “He was fine, then suddenly he just collapsed. I had to carry him back. He’s not doing well, Kit. We need to move fast if he has any chance.”

I looked back toward the penthouse door, thinking of Dimitri in his office, of Gio upstairs. “I should get D and Gio.” I was already halfway to my feet.

Beretta whined again, a high-pitched cry that pierced through my chest.

Enzo’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist. “There’s no time, Kit. He’s fading fast. I could barely get him back upstairs.”

The raw panic in his voice made my decision for me. I grabbed my purse from the hook by the door, fumbling for my phone. “I’ll call D, let him know what’s happening. He can meet us at the vet.” Turning toward Niles, I made sure he’d called Dr. Berk at the Silver City Vet Hospital—the very place Beretta had recovered after being shot.

Together with Enzo and Niles, we carefully lifted Beretta, his body seemingly heavier than usual as we maneuvered into the elevator. I sat on the floor with him during the descent, stroking his head and murmuring reassurances, trying to ignore the cold dread seeping through me. Beretta was more than just a pet—he was family. I couldn’t let anything happen to him. I couldn’t.

When the elevator opened to the garage beneath the highrise, we gently transferred Beretta to the backseat of one of the guys’ standard sleek black town cars. I slid in beside him, cradling hishead in my lap as Niles slammed the door shut, pounding on the roof to signal we were good to go.

The car lurched forward before I’d even fully settled, tires squealing as Enzo accelerated out of the garage. I fumbled with my phone, trying to call Dimitri, but it wouldn’t connect, the screen stuck in ‘dialing’ with zero sound.

I tried again, wondering if it had anything to do with being underground at first. We were on the streets now, weaving through traffic while Beretta whined softly. I stroked his head, tears blurring my vision as I hit D’s contact again. When it wouldn’t go through, I tried Gio next. Still, nothing.

Confusion gave way to the first flutters of unease as I leaned toward the partition between the front and back seats. “‘Zo! I can’t get my phone to work. Can you call D? Tell him to meet us at the vet?”

Beretta whimpered again, and I whispered soothing reassurances as I prayed for the car to go faster, for us to reach the vet in time.

When I looked up, Enzo was watching me in the rearview mirror, and what I saw in his eyes froze the breath in my lungs.

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