( want to feel the scene alive read it it with this song on "half of my heart" by josh makazo)
Knox's POV:
I exited the building after a long meeting with the heads, my head throbbed in annoyance and stress. After that kill, I had to funnel a considerable sum to the right connections to make the case disappear. Paperwork and politics, the necessary evils of my world. A world she could never be part of. A world I was determined to keep her safe from.
Suddenly, I felt it. A pull in my heart, soft at first, then sharp and insistent. The bond. Bella.
My first instinct was to run to her. My second, stronger one, was to shut it down. I ignored it, clenching my jaw until it ached. This was why I stayed away. This connection was a vulnerability, not for me, but for her. Every moment I was near her, I put her in the cross hairs of every enemy I'd ever made. The mark was a beacon, and my world was full of hunters. Letting her go was the only protection I could offer.
But the pull didn't fade. It intensified, coiling into a desperate, painful thrum that felt like her very soul was crying out. It was no longer a call; it was a sound of pure distress. The carefully constructed wall around my heart shattered. My fear for her safety was instantly drowned out by the terrifying certainty that she was breaking without me.
My phone vibrated. I knew. I pulled it out, my chest tight.
Her name glowed on the screen. Bunny.
I let the phone ring once, twice, my knuckles white around the device. But on the third ring, I answered. I couldn't let her suffer because of my mistakes.
"Bella?"The sound that came through the receiver was a shattered whisper.
"I… I feel it." A ragged gasp. "The mark… it's throbbing. I—"
"I know," I said, the words torn from me. Her pain was a live wire in my blood. "I'll be there soon."
"I need you," she whispered, a sob catching in her throat. "Please… hurry."
"I'm coming."
I left my car, its door hanging open like a forgotten thought. I left my men, their confused shouts swallowed by the wind. I left my name, my title, the cold weight of my crown, I left every single thing that ever defined me on that empty sidewalk.
My Alpha mind didn't just take over; it shattered. What rose in its place was something more primal, more fundamental. It was a raw, screaming need that stripped me to the bone. I was desperate. Not with the calculated desperation of a man facing a rival, but with the blind, world-ending terror of a soul watching its only star flicker out.
She didn't just change me; she unmade me. They all saw the fortress, the ruthless, untouchable Don of shadows and silence. They never knew the fortress was built to guard an empty hall. I was a man who had never held a hand without calculating the cost, who had never had a person to simply… care for. I didn't know how to love. The concept was a foreign language, its sounds beautiful but meaningless. I was never on the receiving end, never knew the warmth of a selfless gaze. I was a monument to solitude, cold and impenetrable, until she, with her quiet courage, found a single crack in the stone and flooded my darkness with a light so brilliant it hurt to look at.
And now, that light was guttering. Dying. And it was my fault. My distance, my cold calculation meant to protect her, was the very thing snuffing her out.
So I ran.
I ran like the hounds of hell were at my heels, but I was the only demon here. The city became a watercolor smear of meaningless noise and blurred faces. The world narrowed to the agonizing pull in my chest, a golden thread stretched to its breaking point, tethering my dying heart to hers.
Nothing else mattered. Not my empire, not my enemies, not my own survival. The only truth left in the universe was the sound of her silent scream and the devastating, soul-crushing need to reach her.
I saw her, hunched against a wall, and my heart tore. I stopped before her. I found her collapsed against a wall, a small, crumpled form in the harsh city light. The sight of her brought me to my knees.
"Bella."
Her name was a breath, a confession.
Her eyes, glistening with tears, found mine. The connection slammed into me, a tidal wave of her anguish and my own devastating guilt. The mark on her neck was a violent, crimson pulse against her pale skin.
I didn't kiss her. I fell into her. My lips found hers not in passion, but in a desperate, soul-deep attempt to breathe my own life back into her, to siphon her pain into my body where it belonged. I poured everything I was, every broken, unworthy piece of me, into that kiss. My arms wrapped around her, crushing her to my chest as if I could physically fuse our shattered pieces back together.
When we parted, she was trembling, her sobs quieting into shaky breaths. The mark's frantic rhythm had softened to a steady, warm hum. Peace.
I cradled her face, my thumbs stroking her tear-stained cheeks. My own vision blurred.
"I'm sorry," I choked out, the words ragged and true. "I'm so sorry I left you to face this alone. I was a fool."
She leaned into my touch, her eyes holding mine.
"You're here now."
"I am," I vowed, my voice low and fierce, sealing the promise with a kiss to her forehead. "And I will never make that mistake again. You are not alone. You have me. All of me. However broken it is, it's yours."