Page 4 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the hallway—raised voices, heavy footsteps—but I couldn’t pull my attention from Tommas’ face. Not until the living room abruptly filled with noise and movement, a rush of energy that surged through the door all at once.

Dimitri, Giovanni, and Marco. The sight of them stole what little breath I had left. They looked like they’d been through hell—clothes torn and bloodied, faces streaked with soot and grime, grave looking injuries marring their skin—but they were alive. Wonderfully, miraculously alive.

Dimitri’s gaze found me immediately, widening with relief and fear as he took in the scene before him. He crossed the roomquickly and fell to his knees at my side. Strong hands cupped my face, eyes frantically scanning for injuries beneath the blood that covered me.

“I’m okay.” I leaned into his touch even as I maintained pressure on his brother’s wound. “I—I killed Vincent. He—he shot Tommy and—”

The rest of the words refused to come. A sob caught in my throat as the full weight of everything crashed down on me at once. The fear. The hunt. Vincent’s brutality. My hand clenched around the cold steel of the gun. The bullet that had somehow missed me. Pulling the trigger.Killinga man. Then finding my mate, my Alpha, dying on the floor of our living room. The terrible, endless minutes of watching his life seep out of him, of begging him not to leave me.

Gio settled on Tommy’s other side, his hands gently covering mine, replacing them. “I’ve got him, Sweetness,” he promised, soft but firm. “You did good.Sodamn good.”

“I-I can’t…”

Giovanni’s steady gaze held me captive, a silent vow in the depths of his dark eyes. “Let go, Kit. Let us take care of him now. Let us take care of you both.”

My hands shook as I relented, letting Gio take control. Gently, Dimitri pulled me against his chest. The familiar scent of sandalwood and honey enveloped me, and though it was soothing, being in the comfort of his arms, back in a safe place, allowed me to truly fall apart.

I sobbed while Dimitri purred. The loud, rumbling sound was everything I needed, except for all of us to somehow be okay again.

I concentrated on breathing through the emotional hiccups that surfaced, listening to the soft promises Dimitri whispered into my hair to help me calm down. “You’re safe, Kitten. I’ve gotyou. You’re safe now. Tommy is going to be alright. We’re all going to be fine.”

Behind him, Marco had taken Enzo’s phone, barking orders in a tone that brooked no argument. “Two minutes? We don’t have two fucking minutes. He needs blood now. Bring everything. And I meaneverything.”

Dizzy from how hard I’d cried, I blinked slowly, feeling oddly disconnected from my body. The adrenaline that had been fueling me crashed, and the world seemed to blur at the edges. The room tilted and spun, sounds becoming muffled, as if I’d been submerged underwater. I was vaguely aware of Dimitri’s arms tightening around me, of his voice in my ear, though I couldn’t make out the words anymore.

I tried to focus on Tommy, to make sure he was still breathing, but my vision had narrowed to a pinpoint, black dots coalescing from all sides. The last thing I registered was Marco’s face swimming into view, his expression softening as he looked at me.

“Rest now, Angel.” He cupped my cheek, smoothing his thumb over the curve. “You’ve been so brave. Sofuckingbrave.”

Darkness rushed in then, swallowing everything—the blood, the fear, the desperate relief—and I surrendered to it, too overwhelmed and exhausted to fight any longer. As consciousness slipped away, one thought echoed in my mind: We were alive. All of us. But for how long? And how much would we have to endure to keep it that way?

two

GIOVANNI

The sterile hospitalroom assaulted my senses the moment I stepped through the doorway. Antiseptic and the coppery hint of blood mingled with the faint traces of Kitania’s signature. The scent neutralizing lotion she wore was fading, revealing that the dark moss and moonflower notes of her scent had gone bitter at the edges, tinged with exhaustion and fear.

Seven days of this hell had worn her down to something barely recognizable, a shadow of the woman she’d been before that fateful night. The light inside of her had dimmed, her sweet spirit harrowed in the aftermath.

I watched her from the threshold, my shoulder throbbing beneath its surgical dressing as she sat motionless at Tommy’s bedside. Her delicate fingers were intertwined with his larger ones, and her eyes never left the rise and fall of his chest.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds, casting stripes across my brother’s still form. He looked younger in sleep, vulnerable in a way none of us ever allowed ourselvesto be. The steady beep of monitors counted out the seconds, minutes, hours that he’d been fighting to come back to us. Toher.

Kitania hadn’t moved from that uncomfortable chair except when nurses forced her to. The oversized sweater—one of Dimitri’s—hung from her small frame, swallowing her whole. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, revealing the hollows beneath her cheekbones that hadn’t been there a week ago. Dark circles bruised the delicate skin under her eyes and the usual pink hue to her cheeks was gone, leaving her looking pale and tired.

Seven fucking days of this limbo, this purgatory between tragedy and survival.

I suppressed a sigh and moved deeper into the room, hoping the aroma of the two sweet, creamy coffees I held would entice my Omega to get a little sustenance. Even if it was only caffeine-based. I’d even stopped at the café down the street, making sure to get her a high-end brew that didn’t taste like the warmed-over piss the hospital cafeteria served.

“Hey,” I murmured, keeping my voice deliberately light as I crossed to her.

Kitania startled, her whole body jerking as though I’d shouted instead of spoken softly. She’d been so lost in watching Tommy breathe that she hadn’t noticed my presence. When she looked up, the raw gratitude in her tired eyes nearly fucking undid me.

“Brought you something. It should be a million times better than that hospital garbage.” I nodded toward the mug on the side table, the cold sludge within smelling distinctly like burnt beans.

I held out the fresh cup, and the movement sent a wave of pain through my shoulder. Luckily, the bullet hadn’t gone too deep, and the surgeon had dug it out easily enough. The damagehad been minimal, but if it had been an inch to the right, it would’ve been a different story. As it was, the pull of the stitches and the ache in the healing muscles were constant reminders of how close I’d come to losing everything.

“Thanks.” Kit accepted my offering and cradled it with both hands, letting the heat warm her icy fingers.

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