Page 88 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

It wasn’t concern or panic for Beretta. It was pure, utter regret, quickly replaced by hardened determination.

He pressed the button that raised the partition.

“I’m sorry, Kit,” he said quietly just before it closed between us with a definitive click.

thirty-two

KITANIA

I staredat the barrier in confusion, then quickly tried my phone again. Nothing. I reached for the door handle, finding it locked with no way out from the inside.

My heart began to pound as understanding dawned, terrible and cold. I looked down at Beretta, who looked worse than ever. His tongue stole out to lick my hand, as if sensing my distress amid his own.

It had all been an act. A ruse to get me away from my mates, from the safety of the penthouse.

The mask of loyalty Enzo always wore had been ripped away, and dread dropped through me hard and fast as I realized that this man had never been my friend. He’d been my enemy all along.

And I had walked right into his trap.

The car wove through the city streets as everything clicked into place. The random texts. The disappearances during ouroutings. The way he always seemed to know our plans—like my drive with Marco. It wasn’t coincidence—it was reconnaissance.

A short time later, the car stopped and Enzo got out. My door ripped open, nearly coming off its hinges, and he reached for me.

My heart plummeted as I backpedaled away from him, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. His eyes, usually warm and teasing, had turned hollow, like he’d slipped on a mask and the real Enzo had vanished. The bitter taste of betrayal flooded my mouth as he grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the car. My charm bracelet bit painfully into my skin, and the sting only got worse when I tried to fight. To twist and pull and free myself as he dragged me toward an abandoned warehouse.

The sounds of my struggle echoed off the old, dirty brick, but there was no one around to hear me. I tried to note my surroundings, looking for any landmarks or street signs I could use to figure out where the hell he’d taken me, but I barely had time before he’d hauled me inside.

Wild terror clawed up my throat at the sound of Beretta’s weak growl, silenced as the old steel door slammed shut, leaving me surrounded by nothing but old concrete walls covered in graffiti and the harsh, unfeeling, rigid frame of my captor.

I tried to scratch him, hit him, to pry his fingers off of me, anything to make it more difficult for him to drag me toward the rusted, unsafe looking freight elevator.

“Kit, just come with me. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” His voice was flat, practiced, devoid of the Enzo I knew. The Enzo I’d trusted.

I shook my head, yanking against his punishing grip on my forearm. “All this time... it was you?”

He swallowed and glanced away, not even giving me the courtesy of a response.

“Why?” I whispered, the single word scraping up my throat.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He didn’t answer. Just lunged forward, faster than I could react, and wrapped his fingers around my upper arm instead so he had better leverage to control me. The pressure was bruising, but it was nothing compared to the agony of his betrayal. This man had wormed his way into my life. Had pretended to be a friend. An ally.

And it was all a lie.

He forced me into the rickety elevator tucked in the corner of the warehouse floor despite how hard I struggled, digging my heels into the concrete and twisting my body to try to break his grip. But Enzo was a Beta nearly twice my weight, and despite Gio’s training, I was no match for his raw strength.

“Stop fighting,” he hissed, shoving me into the corner. The metal cage rattled as he yanked the grated door shut. “It won’t change anything.”

The lift groaned to life, ancient gears grinding as we ascended. Dust motes swirled through the air, making my throat tickle, and the stench of old oil and rusted metal filled my nostrils. My head spun with disorientation and fear.

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded, trying to mask my terror with anger.

Enzo stared straight ahead, refusing to meet my eyes. “You know where.”

And I did. Deep down, I knew exactly who was waiting for me.

Rocco.

The elevator shuddered to a stop on what must have been the top floor. Enzo pulled the door open and pushed me out into a large, open space. The windows lining the walls were coated with yearsof grime, turning the afternoon sunlight into something murky and diffuse. The air was stagnant, thick with dirt, mold, and neglect—but it was the faint, familiar traces of scorched metal and burnt ash that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

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