Page 28 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

Enzo’s eyebrows shot up as he studied me with new interest. “Yeah? You wanna fight, sweetheart?”

Gio’s eyes narrowed at the nickname. Before I could answer, he slung his sweaty arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him in a gesture that screamed possession. The move was casual, but the intent was clear…Mine.

My breath caught as his scent intensified. It was earthy and heady—delicious enough that I wanted to turn my face into his armpit and breathe deep. The primal part of me, the Omega, preened under his attention, even as my rational mind struggled to maintain composure, because actually following through on those instincts would be embarrassing.

“I... um...” I swallowed hard. “I’ve never really fought before, but I want to learn.”

“That’s okay,” Gio said, his thumb tracing small circles on my shoulder. “You have to start somewhere, and we’ll teach you everything you need to know from the beginning. I know you want to learn how to protect yourself in case there’s ever a time we’re not there. Much as I hate that thought, it'll make us all feel better.”

The thought sent a chill through me, despite the heat of his body pressed against mine. He was right. As much as I wanted to believe there’d never be a repeat ofthatnight, I knew better than most how quickly things could change from feeling safe to being in danger.

“I know,” I agreed softly. “I’m gonna try my best.”

Gio’s approval washed over me like a physical caress. “Good girl.”

I shivered instantly.God. Didn’t my Alphas know what those two little words did to me?

Gio pressed a kiss to my temple, then grabbed a handful of cookies from the rack, breaking one in half to pop into his mouth. “Meet us in the gym in fifteen minutes. Wear something you can move in.”

Before I could process what was happening, he was guiding Enzo back toward the hallway, both men disappearing with at least a dozen of the cookies that had been cooling on the racks.

I stood frozen in the kitchen, the realization hitting me like a splash of cold water.

Wait—fifteen minutes? What had I just agreed to?

The gym’s harsh fluorescent lights bounced off the mirrored walls, making me squint as I stood awkwardly on the training mats. My reflection stared back at me from every angle—hair slicked into a ponytail, workout clothes clinging to every curve, and eyes wide with uncertainty. The space smelled mildly of sweat and disinfectant, with undertones of each of my men’s scents. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, hyper aware of the two men in the room—Gio, who was watching me from across the mat and Enzo, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Relax,” Gio ordered gently, crossing to me. “You look like a rabbit about to bolt.”

“Is that so wrong?” I sassed, eyeing the various punching bags and weight machines with suspicion. His comparison was apt. “Rabbits are quick and careful. Besides, this isn’t exactly my natural habitat.”

Enzo chuckled from his position against the wall. “Don’t worry. We’ll be gentle.”

Gio shot him a sardonic look that would have melted a lesser man before returning his attention to me. “Forget him. Focus on me.”

He stepped closer, his movements fluid and controlled. Unlike me, he looked completely at home here, like a predator in his natural element.

“First, your stance.” He demonstrated, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. “Stable base. Makes you harder to knock down.”

I mimicked his position, feeling awkward and stiff.

Gio circled me slowly, his gaze assessing. “Not bad, but...” His hands came to rest on my hips, adjusting how I stood. Warmth radiated from his fingertips through the thin fabric of my leggings. “Turn more like this.”

My breath hitched at his touch. His thumbs pressed into the small of my back, urging me to straighten my spine. Then his hands slid up to my shoulders, gently adjusting my posture.

“There,” he murmured, and I felt the word warm against my ear. “Feel the difference?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. The heat of his body so close to mine was scrambling my thoughts, sending tingles racing across my skin. At least the physical distraction was taking the edge off my anxiety.

“Now for your hands.” He moved to stand in front of me again, raising his own in a defensive position. “Protect your face. Tuck your chin. Fists tight, but not so tight, you cut off circulation.”

I followed his instructions, clenching my hands into fists.

“Not like that,” he said, taking my right hand in his. His fingers dwarfed mine as he uncurled my fist. “Don’t tuck your thumb inside—you’ll break it on impact. Wrap it outside, across your knuckles.”

He molded my fingers into the proper position, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who’d done their fair share of violence.

“Now—” He stepped back and raised his hand. “Hit me.”

---