Page 59 of Knot Ruined

“I’ve watched him break men for far less than what you’ve done. And you know what?” My smile turns wicked, dangerous. “He enjoyed it. Every second of it. He smiled as he carved them apart, as they begged him for mercy that never came. And me?” I chuckle, my voice like poisoned honey. “I’ll be right there beside him, watching every moment of your slow, agonizing end. And when he’s done?” I tilt my head, letting my words cut like a blade. “He’ll take me right there, with you bleeding out, watching, knowing you never even came close to being good enough for them.”

Marline’s breath stutters, her mask cracking, but I press in the final blow.

“And when we’re finished?” My gaze darkens, voice soft but full of promise. “I’ll carve that useless heart right out of your chest myself. But let’s be honest—you don’t need it. You clearly don’t have one.”

The room is thick with tension, the air crackling with something raw and dangerous. Marline’s lips part, a tremble in her breath, but before she can react, before she can spit out whatever venom is left on her tongue, she lunges for me.

I see it coming a second before it happens. I duck, her hand swiping through the air where my face had been, and without hesitation, I strike. My fist slams into her throat, a perfect, brutal hit to her windpipe. She chokes, stumbling back, her hands flying up to clutch at her neck as she gasps for air.

“You bitch!” she wheezes, eyes watering as she staggers.

Before I can react again, a guard rushes into the room, moving fast. Too fast. His fist collides with my ribs before I can fully dodge, and a sharp burst of pain explodes through my side as I hit the ground, gasping. I try to push up, but he’s already pulling Marline toward the door, his other hand hovering over his weapon.

Marline coughs, struggling to speak but managing a raspy, hateful laugh as she leans into him for support. “Enjoy your last moments, Fallon,” she sneers, voice raw but venomous. “I’ll make sure to deliver your remains to them when I’m done personally.”

With a final smirk, she stumbles out the door, the heavy slam of metal ringing in my ears.

Violet is beside me a second later, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Shit, Fallon, are you okay?”

I spit out a mouthful of blood, grinning despite the pain. “Yeah,” I rasp. “But I can’t wait to get out of here so I can kill that bitch myself.”

Violet stares at me for a second before letting out a breathless, slightly hysterical laugh. “Goddamn, Fallon.”

A voice breaks through the tense silence.

“Holy shit” Elias speaks up at last, his voice still shaky but holding the slightest flicker of something… admiration?

I glance up at him, then at the others who are staring at me with something close to awe.

He gives a tired, knowing laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t think we have to worry about your pack finding us,” he murmurs. “Because if they don’t, you’ll get us out of here yourself.”

Violet squeezes my shoulder gently, leaning in close. “Did you mean it? The carving-her-heart-out part?”

I snort weakly, exhaustion and pain mingling with my lingering rage. “Mostly, yeah. I figure she’s not using it.”

Violet grins sharply. “That’s my girl.”

Voss

April 17th

2:04 A.M

From my position concealed by the shadows, I glare at the building ahead, every muscle in my body coiled tight with barely restrained violence. It’s a fucking insult—this place. Unlike the crumbling, piss-stained hellholes we’ve ripped apart before, this one still stands strong. Lived-in. The walls aren’t rotting. The structure isn’t sagging under the weight of filth and decay. No, this place is solid. Secure. And right now, it holds the one thing keeping what’s left of my fucking soul tethered to this earth.

Fallon.

Fury rages inside me, dark and unrelenting, twisting through my veins until my vision pulses red. The moment she walked out of our front door, I lost whatever good there was inside me. Now, I’m just this—feral, unhinged, a monster with only one purpose. Get her back. And every single motherfucker inside this building is going to bleed for daring to take what’s mine.

Kingston kneels beside me, his face carved from stone, green eyes scanning the entrance with a calculating sharpness. His fury isn’t loud or messy—it’s the kind that strikes when you least expect it, a slow-brewing storm that will tear everything apart when it finally unleashes.

Jace stands on the other side, his massive frame a wall of barely contained rage, fingers flexing at his sides, itching to wrap around the throat of whoever took her. His blue eyes are dark and cold, the kind of dead-eyed calm that means something awful is about to happen.

Romano is silent, his usual energy replaced by something sharper and deadlier. The man who laughs, who fills a room with warmth, is nowhere to be found. In his place is a predator—a quiet, calculating killer who will smile while he cuts them down.

And then there’s our backup—Fox’s pack.

Fox is crouched low, blond hair barely visible beneath his tactical hood, lean frame tense but utterly still. The man moves like a fucking ghost, silent and deadly, his presence more of a shadow than flesh.

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