Page 39 of Knot Ruined

Love.

Genuine, absolute love.

“They grabbed us a month ago,” he finally says, his voice thick with exhaustion. “We were living on the streets. They separated us. Demanded obedience. And every time I refused…” His throat bobs, his fingers twitching. “I could hear him screaming.”

The room is so silent I can hear the blood dripping from his chest hitting the floor.

“I broke,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I couldn’t take much more of them hurting him because of me.” His lips press into a thin line before he continues. “They cleaned us up. Dressed us. Then they threatened to kill us both if we didn’t follow orders.”

I watched him for a long moment, studying the weariness lining his face, the weight pressing against his shoulders. “In another life, Gregor, I think we could have been friends.”

His lips twitch, just slightly, like he wants to smile but can’t quite remember how. “An honor, I’m sure, is my loss.”

I exhale, turning to Voss, my voice now soft and sad. “Get what you need, baby.”

His dark eyes lock onto mine, heated, hungry, understanding precisely what I mean.

I reach for him, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth, quick and fierce. When I pull back, his gaze is almost reverent, but his face remains unreadable. Still, he tilts his head toward the door.

I take my cue and walk out, leaving the pit behind. Some things a girl can’t unsee.

Kingston

March 21st

1:42 A.M

It took days—painful, restless days—to track down the right building and confirm it was actually the place we were looking for. Leads went nowhere, false sightings frustrated us at every turn, and tension simmered just below the boiling point. John and Colby were immediately ready to storm the place, driven nearly mad by desperation. I couldn't blame them; the thought of Fallon in that hell made my skin crawl, and my blood ignite. But charging in without a solid plan would get people killed—or worse, would cost us the lives of the very omegas we were trying to save.

After endless hours of surveillance, stakeouts, and hacking into security cameras, we finally pinpointed the correct building—an abandoned-looking warehouse hidden at the edge of town. Despite the apparent neglect, subtle details told us the place was fortified and closely monitored: discreetly placed cameras, frequent guard rotations, and reinforced doors. It wasn’t a random hideout—it was a secure facility meant to look unassuming to anyone not trained to notice.

I had to physically hold John back when he first saw the grainy security footage. His omega’s pain reflected in his eyes like a living wound. Colby paced relentlessly, fists clenched, every ounce of patience we asked for visibly draining him. It took hours of careful explanation, mapping out entry points, counting guards, and assessing weak spots to calm them down—to make them realize that going in unprepared could mean losing everything.

“Stop right here.”

Jace pulls the SUV to a smooth halt at the curb, the van following close behind, its headlights cutting through the darkened street before being shut off. The engine hums softly, barely a sound against the muffled city noise in the distance. Jace’s fingers move quickly over the steering wheel controls, and within seconds, Colby’s voice filters through the speakers.

“The warehouse on the right is the one we’re looking for.” I don’t take my eyes off the building, scanning its worn-down exterior, the dim yellow glow from the windows, and the reinforced side entrance. I can already see the weak points—the places where the walls are rotting, sagging inward. Whoever runs this operation doesn’t care about maintaining appearances. I wouldn’t expect them actually to care for the omega's needs, but hell, putting them in actual danger before whatever they are doing doesn’t make sense to me. As I speak, a slow exhale leaves my chest, my voice steady, controlled, and absolute.

“We move in through the back. Most of us can move like ghosts, so we do this clean. No wasted movement. No unnecessary noise.” I let my words settle before shifting my gaze to the van. “Colby, you and John are in charge of extracting the omegas. The moment you have them all, get them into the van and take them to my house. We’ll sort things out once we return.”

Colby’s voice is calm but edged with anticipation. “Understood.”

Jace nods, adjusting his grip on the wheel, his expression unreadable. He’s already in the headspace needed for this—cold, precise, unaffected.

Voss shifts in the passenger seat beside me, rolling his shoulders like a predator loosening its muscles before the hunt. There’s an almost bored look on his face, but I know better. Voss is never bored when it comes to things like this.

“And the rest of us?” Romano asks from the backseat, his usual easygoing tone now edged with something sharp, something lethal.

I glance at him through the rearview mirror. His brown eyes glint in the dim lighting, unreadable yet hungry. I roll my sleeves up, slow and deliberate.

“The rest of us?” I echo, my lips curving into something that isn’t quite a smile. “We slit the throats of those in charge.”

A slow, humming silence follows my words, stretching between us like the final breath before a war cry. We slip from the vehicles silently, and the darkness swallows us whole. The only sounds are our controlled breaths, the muffled crunch of boots against dirt, and the distant hum of a passing car far beyond the alley.

The warehouse looms ahead. It’s not security that would worry me in a place like this. It’s the risk of the damn ceiling caving in before we even get inside.

We move in formation, silent, deliberate. Jace is on my right, his presence a steady force, while Voss stays to my left, a living shadow, his steps soundless as he prowls forward. Romano follows just behind, his fingers twitching slightly, eager for action.

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