Page 37 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

“Not at you, Dolcezza. Athim—that sniveling rat bastard.”

He scrolled through each message again. Each word made his expression darker, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

“We’re going to find the fucker and make him wish he’d never been born,” he promised in a dangerous register that revealedexactlywhat kind of man he was beyond the gentle treatment he always showed me. This was the man who put bullets in people’s heads without hesitation, a man who’d grown up in the brutal world of organized crime and underground fight rings and thrived.

But I wasn’t scared of him. I relished his protection, the darkness that kept our pack safe.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” There was absolute certainty in his promise, and I leaned into his touch, believing him implicitly.

“I know. And I won’t let anyone hurt you, either.”

Gio leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, devouring me with barely checked constraint. It was meant to distract, and yet, the threat lingered in the back of my mind, adding another layer to my never-ending tension. It had been almost two months since Tommy had recovered enough to come home from the hospital, since the warehouse explosion had nearly taken all my Alphas from me. Two months of relative peace, of rebuilding, of learning to trust that happiness might not be yanked away at any moment.

And now this.

But as the fear coursed through me, something else crystallized inside—resolve, steel-spined and unforgiving. I was tired of being afraid, tired of being the victim, the one whoneeded saving. I wanted to be strong enough that I never needed to be saved again.

“I want to keep training.” My words were steadier than I expected. “I need to be able to fight back if—”

Giovanni cut me off with another fierce kiss, his lips claiming mine with a possessiveness that made my knees weak. When he pulled back, his eyes had softened slightly, pride now mingling with the protective fury.

“You won’t have to,” he promised. “But yes, we’ll keep training. Every day if you want.”

I nodded, sure now in a way I hadn’t been before. I needed to train and hone my skill so I’d never be a victim again. I thought of the gun I now kept in my nightstand, the one Tommy had taught me to use. I thought of the weight training Marco had shown me, and the self-defense sessions with Gio that left me sore but satisfied. And I thought of Dimitri—his sharp, strategic mind and the quiet way he’d been teaching me how to think like a predator instead of prey. Each lesson emboldened me, putting the power back in my hands.

“No one will ever make you feel helpless again.” Giovanni turned me to face him fully. “Not while I’m breathing.”

I believed him. But I also knew that the only person who could truly ensure I never felt helpless again was me. And as I looked toward the kitchen to where the samples were spread out—toward the future I was determined to have, filled with pack, a home, and family—I made a silent vow to safeguard what was mine with everything I had.

No matter what it took, no matter what I had to become, I would never go back to being the broken Omega that Rocco Valentino had tormented.

I’d die first.

fifteen

GIOVANNI

The whiskey burned goingdown my throat—smooth at first, then hot enough to remind me I was still alive. My brothers and I gathered in the study like war generals plotting their next move. Only our battlefield wasn’t some distant country—it was this city. These streets. This home. And the stakes had never been higher.

Dimitri sat across from me, elbows on his knees, tie loose around his neck, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Tommy leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed tight over his chest, green eyes shadowed with thoughts he wasn’t ready to say aloud. Marco was perched on the armrest beside him, tapping an unlit cigar against his knee in a steady rhythm. Tick. Tick. Tick. Like a fuse waiting to blow.

We’d just drawn Kit a bath, and she’d be soaking for a while, which meant we had the room to ourselves. We weren’t keeping secrets from her—we were buying her a little peace, holding the weight for her, just for a bit.

I took another sip, letting the heat settle. “So,” I said, breaking the silence that had turned heavy. “What’s the play?”

Dimitri’s dark eyes lifted to mine—steady, unflinching. The kind of stare that made men listen, even when they didn’t want to. “Everything’s in motion. All four suspects have their bait. Now we wait to see who bites.”

Tommy’s jaw flexed. “I fucking hate waiting.” His fingers dug into his arms like he needed something to hurt.

“Better than another ambush,” Marco muttered, lighting the cigar with a flick of his lighter. The scent of tobacco cut through the room, smoke curling toward the ceiling like a ghost. “We’ve bled enough.”

Dimitri ticked the list off on his fingers. “Bernardi got the weapons drop. Esposito thinks the olive oil shipment’s moving early. Greggs is watching for the cash transfer. And Alec... Alec got the Russian meeting.”

My mouth twisted as I swirled the whiskey in my glass. “And we’re sure Alec took the bait?”

Dimitri gave a single, brutal nod. “If Rocco shows up for anything, it’ll be that. He hates Vlad more than he hates us, and that’s saying something. Strengthening our alliance threatens his whole fucking empire.”

Marco exhaled a long breath of smoke. “Then let’s hope our boy Alec lives up to our suspicions. I want nothing more than to get my hands on the rat and on Rocco—not necessarily in that order.”

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