Page 33 of Knot Broken

Because this isn’t random, they came for us. They came prepared.

And that means someone knows exactly who we are.

“You know what is strange?” I ask into the momentary silence. “The last commando idiots said that there was a kill order on me. But we were kidnapped?”

“That is odd.” She doesn’t seem to be able to give me more than that. “Maybe they feel like you are more useful alive?”

That makes me laugh. “I also feel like I’m more useful alive.”

Fallon shifts restlessly again, letting out a heavy sigh as she slumps against the wall, her honey-peach scent a calming presence in an otherwise tense room. “How long do you think it’ll take the guys to find us?”

“Not long,” I reply confidently, though I can’t help the faint twist of anxiety in my chest. “Between your paranoid pack and my overly protective alphas, I’m surprised they aren’t already storming the place.”

She smiles, but it’s strained around the edges. “I know they’ll come for us. I just really, really hate waiting.”

I nod sympathetically, crawling up onto the mattress beside her and leaning against the wall. “I get it. The waiting is the worst part. I’d prefer fighting or running—anything but sitting around.”

“Exactly.” She blows a stray curl out of her face, glaring at the blank wall across from us. “Who even kidnaps omegas without having the courtesy to entertain us?”

I laugh softly. “Maybe we should put in a formal complaint.”

Fallon snickers, bumping her shoulder gently against mine. “At this rate, we’ll get frequent-kidnapping discounts.”

I grin, grateful for her humor in the tense moment. But despite the jokes, my thoughts drift anxiously to our mates.They’ll find us, of that I have no doubt, but what if something goes wrong? What if they get hurt? A quiet dread coils in my stomach, mixing with my frustration.

As if sensing my mood shift, Fallon’s expression softens. “They’ll be okay, Vi. They’re insanely protective—and yours have already proven they’ll kill anyone who hurts you.”

“I know,” I whisper, leaning my head back and closing my eyes briefly. “But it’s not just us in danger anymore. It’s them, too. And the waiting—”

“Sucks,” Fallon finishes softly. “Yeah, it does.”

Silence stretches between us again, heavy and oppressive. I stare at the locked door, silently willing it to open. If I have to wait much longer, I swear I’ll claw through the walls myself.

Because right now, being bored isn’t the worst part. It’s being powerless, stuck here, while the people we love rush headlong into danger.

“When we get out of here, I’m refusing to be kidnapped again. Like gun in my face don’t care no thanks.” I announced suddenly, breaking the long silence out of sheer boredom and frustration. “This kidnapping has officially killed all my patience.”

Fallon bursts into laughter, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I’m right there with you. I’m just going to start stabbing people.”

She’s abruptly cut off by a softbeep-beep-beep—the distinct rhythm of someone entering the access code on the keypad outside the door.

Instant silence.

Fallon and I lock eyes, and every trace of amusement drains from the room like a pulled plug. The air goes sharp,brittle. My stomach knots, and adrenaline roars to life in my veins, cold and hot all at once.

“Finally,” Fallon breathes, her voice practically a growl. She rises from the bed with eerie calm, the predator in her surfacing like a switch flipped. I barely blink before her hand disappears under her sweater—andfuck me, there it is. A wicked blade flashes in her grip, curved and gleaming, pulled from a holster Iswear to godwasn’t there a second ago.

I snap into motion too—no time to hesitate. I scramble into the corner of the bed, drawing my knees to my chest, body folding in on itself like prey. Wide eyes. Shaky breath. Vulnerable omega act: activated. It’s a dance I know too well, and I’m damn good at it.

The door clicks. Opens.

One man. Alone.

Poor bastard.

He’s holding a tray—food, maybe?—and his bored expression is the last thing he has time to register before Fallonerupts. She lunges across the room like she’s airborne, slamming her blade deep into his thigh with bone-snapping force. The sound he makes isnothuman—some mix between a roar and a gurgle as the tray crashes to the floor, scattering cold food and metal across the concrete.

He hits the ground hard, blood pulsing from the wound. I don’t wait for him to recover—I pounce like something feral, grabbing his collar anddragginghim into the room with everything I have. He fights, grunting and flailing, but I throw my weight into it, slamming his back into the edge of the bed. His head snaps back with a loudcrack.

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