Page 4 of Knot Broken

Of course, our mate would be soft and sharp all at once. Of course, she’d make heartbreak look like art.

And then I smell her. Lemon frosting. Sweet, sugary, comforting, andso very Omega. It hits me like a brick to the gut, curling in the air, thick with heat and something painfully real. That scent has haunted my memory for a month. I don’t realize how much I missed it until I’m half-sick with the need to get closer.

Beside me, Dare stiffens, his jaw tight. Jex exhales a sharp breath through his nose, fists clenched at his sides. We’re all on edge—every nerve frayed raw—but none of us move. We can’t. We’re barely standing, and we sure as hell haven’t earned the right to touch her.

I want to fall at her feet. I want to beg. I want her to look at us like we’re more than ghosts showing up too late.

But mostly—I want her to stop looking at us like we broke her.

“Hi,” I say, voice rough from disuse and regret. “You look...”

I almost saybeautiful, but I don’t deserve to give her that right now. So instead, I swallow it.

“You look like you were sleeping.”

Brilliant, Fox. Fucking brilliant.

Violet’s silence stretches between us like razor wire—thin, taut, and ready to snap. Her piercing blue eyes flick between the three of us, sharp as glass, measuring everything we are, everything we’ve done… and everything wedidn’tdo.

Then, finally, she speaks.

“I have two questions.”

Her voice is calm—too calm. Like silk wrapped around steel, something delicate with the threat of blood beneath. Her arms cross tightly over her chest, pushing her breasts higher and framing her tension in a way that’s both distracting and devastating.

“One: Are you rejecting me?” she asks, tone clipped, each word delivered like a stone tossed into still water. “Because if you are, you can march right out of my house without another word.”

Jex jerks like she just landed a punch. His body goes stiff, his throat bobs with a hard swallow, and I see it—his instinct to drop to his knees and beg. Dare lets out a growl, low and vicious, like someone’s just threatened something sacred. And honestly? They have.

Me? I just sigh. Deep and tired. The kind of sigh that’s carved from bone-deep guilt and sleepless nights.

“No,” I say quietly, firmly. “Of course we’re not rejecting you. Not now, not ever. I swear to you, Violet—we had a damn good reason for what happened. But none of it…none of itwas because we didn’t want you.”

She doesn’t budge, not really, but there’s a tiny shift in her shoulders. Just enough that I know she’s listening—even if she hasn’t decided whether or not she wants to forgive us yet.

“That brings me to question number two,” she says, voice clipped. “What thefuckhappened?”

Even brimming with frustration, she’s radiant—her fire, her presence. I can’t stop my eyes from tracking the way her shirt clings to her breasts and the way those ridiculous shorts ride up her thighs. Exhaustion claws at me, but my cock still twitches becauseshe’s here.Angry, glorious, real.

“It’s a long story,” I say, dragging a hand down my face, wishing I had more energy to shape it how she deserves to hear it.

She raises a single brow, unimpressed. “I’ve got time.”

With that, she turns her back on us and crosses the room. She curls herself into what looks like a nest-chair hybrid, all oversized cushions and soft throws. Of course, she’d claim the coziest, most defensible perch in the room. It suits her. Something tight and aching in my chest loosens at the sight.

I clear my throat. “We knew the second we walked into that building—you were ours. Not a maybe. Not a hope. A fact. You’re ours, Violet.”

My voice catches, so Dare picks up the thread.

“We had you ride back with the others because we needed to report in. It was protocol, and at the time… we couldn’t tell you who we worked for. It was confidential.” He exhales hard, like just saying it pulls something from his gut. “The plan was simple. Get in, report, shower, come find you. Kingston already gave us your name. Said you were one of their omegas’ best friends. Weknewwho you were.”

“We weren’t walking away,” Jex says, his voice low, eyes dark with memory. “We went to the building where we always debrief. Looked the same. Nothing felt off. But the second wewere inside the room, the door locked behind us—and we were surrounded.”

My jaw tightens. The anger still simmers just beneath the surface, slow-burning. “They detained us,” I add, voice like gravel. “Said we’d gone rogue by helping the Rosetti pack. Called us liabilities. The higher-ups think Kingston and his people are running some underground crime syndicate.”

Violet makes a noise—part groan, part scream—and grabs the nearest pillow, whacking herself in the face with it before letting out a muffled yell into the fluff. I blink, not sure whether to laugh or duck.

“They aren’t mafia!” she shouts into the pillow.

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