Page 49 of Knot Broken

And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to her she made the right choice.

Jex

June 10th

1:45 A.M

The auction house stands like a monolith in the dark—silent, squat, and bloated with secrets. My pulse thrums, low and steady, as Kingston gives the signal to move. One sharp nod. That’s all we need.

Fox adjusts his grip on his weapon beside me, calm and dangerous as always. I match his pace as we close in on the east side entrance, my own gun cradled in my hands, my blade tucked close and humming with purpose.

Romano’s voice crackles through our earpieces. “Cameras down. You’ve got a fifteen-minute blind spot starting now.”

We glide forward like shadows with teeth, Fox slipping ahead to disable the side door lock in seconds. It clicks open, and the black swallows us whole. No one speaks. Our breath is steady. Footfalls light. Inside, the place smells like money and rot.

Romano guides us through the twisted halls with surgical precision. Voss peels off to link with Violet and Fallon—his presence is quiet, cold, and terrifying. He’ll burn this building down if either of them gets touched. No question. They vanish into a side corridor, heading for the holding cells.

Jace’s voice filters in quietly through the comms. “Perimeter clear. No movement. Still quiet.”

Kingston leads the charge, all sharp lines and barely leashed violence. We round a corner—and freeze. Two guards. Armed. Alert.

Kingston signals. Fox lunges, snapping one man’s neck in a clean, brutal twist. I handle the second—catch his arm mid-swing, twist until his shoulder gives with a muffled pop, then drag him into a chokehold. He slumps against me, limp and unconscious, in under ten seconds.

We pull the bodies into a supply closet. Fox locks the door with a soft click behind us.

Everything in me is dialed in—my senses razor-sharp, my blood thrumming hot. There’s a calm that comes with thiskind of work, a lethal kind of peace. Each hallway we clear is methodical, fast, and silent. Just like training. Just like hundreds of ops before.

Except this time, Violet’s inside.

Her voice murmurs through the comms, steady but strained. “We’ve reached the omega room. A dozen inside—alive. We’re getting them out.”

The tightness in my chest eases, just a bit. She’s okay. For now.

We reach the auction floor doors, every muscle coiled and waiting. Kingston glances at us once, green eyes dark with wrath.

Marcus is behind that door.

“One… two… three.”

We breach.

Chaos explodes.

Alarms blare. Gunfire cracks through the vaulted space. Buyers scream and scatter. Bidders dive for cover as Marcus leaps off the podium, eyes wild.

“Marcus Whitlock!” Kingston’s voice booms above the noise, perfectly calm. “This ends tonight.” But Marcus is a cockroach. Instead of going down, he hides behind his guards—wave after wave of mercs in tactical gear swarm us.

No matter. We go to work.

Fox plows forward like a wrecking ball, fists flying. I move with him, knife gleaming, my strikes precise, silent, devastating. Blood sprays across polished marble. A body crumples beside me, and I don’t stop. Dare is a whirlwind behind me. We fight like one unit—trained, brutal, clean.

I don’t even register the ache in my knuckles anymore. Just Marcus. Then it’s done. Bodies everywhere. Breathing hard, I scan the room. No Marcus. “Fuck!” I bark, slamming a bloodied fist into the wall. “He slipped!”

Kingston’s voice cuts through the static. “Move. He’s still inside.”

We storm through the back halls—dark, tight, silent. Marcus isn’t getting out of this building. Not this time. I’d tear the whole damn place down with my bare hands if it meant getting Violet back.

I tap my comms. “Jace. Status?”

---