Page 91 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

And then I hit a dead end.

Cold concrete wall rose in front of me, solid and impassable. To my right was a heavy metal door, but when I tried the handle, it was locked. No way forward. No way out.

I spun around, intending to backtrack, only to freeze at the sound of footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Coming closer.

A sob caught in my throat, but I swallowed it down. No. I wasn’t going to break. Not like this. Not for him.

Never,everagain.

I squared my shoulders, ignoring the pain that radiated from my bruised face and battered body. I spat another mouthful of blood onto the floor and raised my chin as the footsteps closed in. A small act of defiance.

There was no backup. No exit. Just me. And him.

But I still had one thing left—

Fire.

“Come on, then,” I growled, clenching my fists at my sides.

If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one. I wasn’t the same terrified Omega he’d kept locked in that basement. I’d changed. Grown stronger. Found my voice.

Found my confidence. Mypower.

And no matter what happened next, I wouldn’t let Rocco take that from me. I wouldn’t let him break me.

The footsteps stopped just around the corner, and a shadow stretched across the floor, elongated and menacing.

thirty-three

DIMITRI

I pacedthe length of my office like a caged animal, phone pressed to my ear as my father droned on about how we should handle the Moretti situation. My jaw clenched with each turn, that familiar weight of responsibility settling heavier across my shoulders. Something itched beneath my skin—restlessness, unease, the desire to be elsewhere. With Kit.

Her sadness had been leaking through our bond for the past fifteen minutes, ever since I’d excused myself to take this call. I could feel it—a soft, resigned ache that made my chest tight. Every instinct screamed at me to hang up and go to her, but duty anchored me in place. Always fucking duty.

“Their shipment is due next week,” my father continued, voice crisp and demanding my full attention. “I want our men in position by Tuesday. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” I checked my watch. Twenty minutes already. Kit had been understanding when I’d left her in the kitchen, all smiles as she prepared her cheesecake, but I’d felt herdisappointment, nonetheless. She never complained, never made demands, but I could feel her needs as clearly as my own.

“Dimitri, are you listening to me?” My father’s sharp tone snapped my focus back.

“Always,” I replied automatically, running a hand over my short beard. “I’ll coordinate with Giovanni on the logistics.”

“Good. This is a delicate situation. The Morettis are—”

I stopped listening.

Something yanked hard inside me—the bond, that golden thread connecting me to Kit, suddenly went taut.Wrong. Her presence, usually soft and warm, twisted sideways. I stiffened, breath catching in my throat.

And then it hit me—fear. Not panic. Not nerves. Pure fuckingterrorsliced through me like a dagger to the heart, stealing the air from my lungs and setting every nerve ending on fire.

I lowered the phone, already moving, already ripping the goddamn door off its hinges and charging down the hallway. My heart thundered in my ears. The bond pulled me forward, screaming danger into every cell of my body.

Kitchen. She’d been in the kitchen.

I burst from the hallway and ran into the kitchen, rounding the island. But she wasn’t here. The oven was still on, the timer blinking away the minutes for her cheesecake. The air smelled of vanilla and sugar. But no Kit.

Her purse was gone. So was Beretta’s leash from its hook by the door. Enzo had taken him for a walk, but he should’ve been back by now.

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