Page 2 of Knot Broken
She looks up, eyes shimmering with barely contained tears. “They thought the commissions were fake. She told them they didn’texist.And their base pay was supposed to be twenty-five an hour—not fifteen!”
Rage bubbles in my chest, my hand clenching around the edge of my comforter. “Fifteen an hour? In Boston? Forbridal work?I could scream.”
“Ididscream,” Fallon mutters. “Just ask my pack.” Her voice breaks on a weird hiccup laugh, eyes flicking briefly behind her. I glance at the screen just in time to catch a glimpse of Voss—quiet, watchful, and clearly hovering like the fiercely loyal shadow he is.
Fallon continues, voice hoarse. “I made one of the omegas, Anna, the new manager. She’s sharp, organized, already fixing things—and three of the girlscried, Violet. Cried. Because I gave them back what they should’ve always had. I made my employees cry!”
She buries her face in her hands with a groan. “I’ve become that boss. The one who accidentally emotionally devastates people with fairness.”
My heart squeezes for her—equal parts frustration and pride. “Fallon,” I say gently, “yourescuedthem. Again. You do realize that, right?”
She peeks through her fingers, mascara slightly smudged, but her expression is one of quiet heartbreak and righteous fury.
“I’m going to find Marcy,” she says flatly. “And I’m going to throw her into a vat of tulle and set it on fire.”
I raise a solemn hand. “Let me pick the playlist.” Movement catches my attention again. I bite my lip to keep from smiling, watching the hulking alpha pace like a caged beast until Kingston finally gives him a look that saysfine, but don’t make it a scene.Voss doesn’t wait. The moment he’s released, he practically launches himself across the storeroom like a tactical missile in black cargo pants.
Fallon lets out a startled squeak as he swoops her right off the ground and settles into a sitting position with her cradled in his lap like she weighs nothing. Her arms flail for half a second, wide-eyed and affronted.
I burst into laughter, nearly knocking over my phone. “Oh look,” I tease, voice syrup-sweet and laced with mischief, “your guard dog finally broke containment. It was only a matter of time.”
Fallon glares at me, red-cheeked and mortified, though she makes no move to escape Voss’s hold. His massive arms are wrapped around her like steel bars, and his expression is carved from stone—but his thumb is brushing slow circles into her hip, and the way she relaxes into him gives her away.
“Honestly,” I continue, grinning into the phone, “between your psycho managers and your alphaholic pack, your life is basically a Netflix drama. Someone cue the intense string music and a slow-motion hair flip.”
She flips me off with the kind of lazy middle finger that only a well-loved, emotionally exhausted omega can deliver. “I hate you,” she grumbles, though her voice is soft and warm.
“Youloveme,” I correct with zero shame, tilting my head like the smug menace I am. “And if you say otherwise, I’ll make you cry again—but not in a good, employee-uplifted way. Like, full-blown, mascara-running, ugly cry. You know I’ll do it.”
Fallon snorts, but then her expression shifts—eyes narrowing, lips curling into a sly, fox-like smile.
Oh. No.
I know that look.
It’s the look she gets right before she says something designed to derail my emotional stability. That’s the same look she wore right before she told Kingston about myveryunfortunate crush on a tattooed barista who turned out to be a very happily mated alpha. (I will never step foot in that café again. Ever.)
“Fallon,” I warn, narrowing my eyes right back. “Don’t you dare.”
She leans slightly into Voss’s chest, grinning like a cat with its paw on the canary’s neck. “So... I’ve given youplentyof time.”
“Time for what?” I ask warily, already regretting everything.
She bats her lashes. “Tospill about your mates, obviously.”
And there it is. The question I was hoping to avoid.
I glance away, suddenly very interested in a loose thread on my blanket. It’s frayed and pitiful—kind of like my heart,honestly. My chest tightens painfully, and I blink hard against the sting threatening to spill over. Not again. I’ve cried enough over them. Overthis.
“I don’t have any mates, Fallon.”
The words scrape out like sandpaper, dry and broken.
“Wait—Voss was wrong?” Her voice drops instantly, soft with confusion, the sharp edge fading into concern. It’s almost cautious, like she already knows what I’m going to say and is bracing for it.
I force myself to look back at the screen. I can’t hide the moisture pooling in my eyes—not from her. Fallon’s entire expression shifts the moment she sees me. That soft worry vanishes beneath her omega growl, low and rising like a warning rumble of thunder. It’s terrifying when she gets like this. Terrifying, and comforting in thatyou are so loved, I will burn the world down for youkind of way.
“What the fuck happened?” she demands.
