Page 15 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

Kit sat cross-legged in the center, surrounded by a sea of blankets in various shades of blue and green. Her dark hair spilled loose down her back, catching the light like ocean waves at night. Beretta lay beside her, his head resting in her lap, his sleek body curled protectively around her. The bandage around his back leg stood out starkly against his black coat.

What held me frozen, however, was the soft murmur of my mate’s voice as she stroked the dog’s head.

“You were so brave, weren’t you?” she cooed. “Taking a bullet like that for Tommy. Protecting us. My brave, brave boy.”

Beretta’s nub of a tail waggled against the blankets, his brown eyes fixed adoringly on Kit’s face.

“I’m sorry you got hurt protecting us. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” Her fingers traced carefully around his bandaged leg, never touching the injury but acknowledging its presence. “Thank you for looking after him, for being there when I couldn’t be. For staying with him, even when you were hurt, too.”

The dog huffed softly, as if responding. It struck me then how different she was in this moment—unguarded, genuine, her walls completely down as she spoke to Beretta. There was no performance of strength here, no careful composure maintained for our benefit.

This was raw Kit, allowing herself a vulnerability she seemed unable or unwilling to show around us lately.

“Good boy,” she praised, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Such a good, brave boy.”

She was quiet for a long moment, and her next words were so soft I almost missed them.

“It’s hard, you know? Being strong all the time.”

Fuck. My chest tightened painfully. How many times had I said those exact words to myself in the dead of night? How many years had I carried the weight of my family, my business, my world on my shoulders—alone—because I believed that’s what a leader did?

Kit sighed, still stroking Beretta’s fur. “It’s even harder pretending I’m not scared out of my mind that it could happen again—that next time might be worse.”

The vise around my heart grew tighter. So much fucking tighter.

“They need me to be strong right now. Tommy’s still healing, Gio’s pushing himself too hard, Marco’s pretending his ribs don’t hurt, and Dimitri...” She paused, her voice softening further. “Dimitri has enough to worry about without me falling apart on him.”

Anger flashed through me—not at her,neverat her—but at myself, at this situation we’d found ourselves in. My Omega, my mate, was carrying a burden she didn’t need to bear alone. She thought she had to be the strong one, when all I wanted—allanyof us wanted—was to be her shelter, her safe harbor.

Didn’t she understand? She was our center, our heart. We were supposed to protect her, not the other way around. The urge to step into the room, to gather her in my arms and tell her exactly that, was nearly overwhelming. But I held back, sensing that this private moment with Beretta was something she needed.

She continued to whisper to the dog, promising that she’d take care of his bandages, that she’d sneak him extra treats when no one was looking, that she was grateful beyond words for his loyalty. All the while, her fingers never stopped their gentle path through his fur, finding comfort in the simple act of caring for another being who asked nothing of her in return.

I recognized the coping mechanism for what it was. Kit could pour out her fears to Beretta because he wouldn’t judge her, couldn’t be disappointed in her, couldn’t think less of her strength.

The realization cut deep.

Had we somehow given her the impression that we expected perfection? That we would think less of her for having human reactions to trauma?

The thought made me sick. We’d failed her if she believed that. I’d failed her. And I needed to fix it—to prove to her that shecould be just as vulnerable with us as she was with the dog curled trustingly in her lap.

Kit’s body stiffened suddenly, her hand pausing mid-stroke on Beretta’s fur. Her gaze found mine in the reflection of the window—and I was caught.

seven

DIMITRI

For a heartbeat,we just stared at each other, neither of us moving. Then Beretta’s head lifted, his ears perking up as he registered my presence too, breaking the spell.

“Dimitri?” she called softly, questioningly.

“Guilty. I woke up, and you weren’t in bed. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” I stepped fully into the room. “Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for an answer, I moved across the plush cushions and lowered myself into the nest beside her. Beretta huffed a greeting, his docked tail wagging to the best of its ability before he settled back down, unwilling to relinquish his position in Kit’s lap.

Up close, the shadows beneath her eyes were more pronounced, broadcasting how tired she was. She quickly brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her free hand tugging the blanket around her shoulders tighter—little gestures of armor going back up.

She winced. “How long were you standing there?”

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