Page 44 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

Dimitri’s arm tightened around her waist, his thumb tracing soothing circles against her hip. These subtle gestures had become our new language, the way we comforted her, showed her how much we cared. Kit released a contented sigh, snuggling deeper into the couch, wiggling between my brothers until she was curled up, comfortable, and happy.

We’d ordered eight different pizzas for the five of us, enough food to feed a small army. With the kitchen in the middle of being torn apart and renovated, we had to rely heavily on takeout. So far, pizza night seemed to be Kit’s favorite. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her eat so much in one sitting, and I fuckin’ loved watching her hum and moan to herself as she devoured the cheesy goodness.

Apparently, pizza and a movie were exactly what my girl needed. The massive TV mounted on the wall played some ridiculous romantic comedy she’d picked—all drama and romance. Marco had groaned when she chose it, but his complaints died the moment she’d looked up at him with those ice-blue eyes.

We were all wrapped around her little finger, and none of us minded one bit.

A knock at the door drew my attention. Dimitri’s shoulders tensed for just a fraction of a second before he relaxed again. Even in our own home, safety was never guaranteed. Not completely.

“It’s Enzo,” Giovanni called out as he strode to the door after peeking at the security feed on his phone.

Gio opened the door, and Enzo stepped inside, bringing with him the scent of the city and that faint cologne he always wore to enhance his bergamot scent. He clapped Giovanni on the shoulder in greeting.

“Check-in time already?” Dimitri asked, his tone casual, but I caught the subtle undercurrent. Business was never far from D’s mind, even on nights like this.

Enzo shrugged, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Kit. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat too long before he turned to Dimitri. “Just wanted to give you the latest update on the Moretti situation. Thought it might be better in person.”

“You eaten yet?” I asked, gesturing to the mountain of pizza boxes. “We’ve got plenty.”

Dimitri nodded toward the couch. “Stay. Have a beer. We’re taking the night off.”

Enzo hesitated, rubbing the scar on his cheek—that tell he had when he was thinking. “You sure I’m not intruding on family time?” His eyes flicked to Kit again.

“Don’t be stupid,” Giovanni said, pressing a cold beer into Enzo’s hand. “Sit your ass down.”

Enzo had been one of our closest friends since we were teenagers. He wasn’t blood, but after everything we’d been through—the wars, the truces, the bullets we’d dodged together—he might as well have been. And Kit had warmed up to him quickly, which was saying something, given that there were few people she trusted in this world.

“You’re just in time to suffer through this movie with us. Case in point.” Marco motioned toward the T.V., throwing his head back with an exaggerated groan when the couple kissed on screen. To be honest, none of us had a problem indulging our Omega and watching a chick flick, but it was fun as hell to tease her.

Kit smacked his arm. “It’s adorable, you Neanderthal. You have no taste.”

Enzo chuckled, settling into the empty space on the far end of the L-shaped sectional. Close enough to be part of the group, but still maintaining a respectful distance from Kit. He’dalways been careful around her, understanding her boundaries without needing to be told. It was one of the things I’d always appreciated about him.

“So, what are we watching?” he asked, taking a pull from his beer.

“Don’t get her started,” Marco warned.

“The Notebook. It’s a classic,” Kit defended.

“It’s something…” Giovanni rebutted playfully, dropping into the armchair across from us.

I watched as Kit’s lips quirked up in that small, secret smile of hers. These moments of normalcy still seemed to surprise her—like she couldn’t quite believe she was allowed to have opinions, to tease, to be the center of attention in a way that didn’t end in pain or hardship of some kind.

The movie played on, all teary confessions and sweeping orchestral swells—pure emotional strife in vintage dresses. Kit demolished her fifth slice of pizza, another small victory.

Licking the sauce off her thumb, she sank deeper into the couch with a contented sigh, patting her stomach. “I kind of feel bad for you, ‘Zo.”

He cocked his head. “Why’s that, sweetheart?”

My jaw ticked.Sweetheart?Since when did he have a nickname for her? I shot a look toward Marco, whose brow arched in silent agreement—he’d clocked it, too. Something territorial sparked in my gut, even though I knew Enzo wasn’t a threat. Still. Lines.

“I know you work all the time,” Kit said, completely unaware of the silent exchange, “and when you finallydotake a night off, you’re here with us watching The Notebook. Doesn’t really seem like your speed.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief; that playful side of her we’d been seeing more of lately. It made me want to both grin and pull her onto my lap.

Enzo took a long sip of his beer. “You assume I don’t love sobbing over star-crossed lovers and emotionally devastating rain scenes.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, the sarcasm dripping like honey. “I’m sure you love to knit and read romance novels, too.”

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