Knotted By The Devilish Alpha Brothers

Enzo’s grey eyes locked onto Amelia. “Explain what you did back there.”

Something inside Amelia finally snapped.

She stared at him, chest rising and falling hard, her breath ragged. “Are you asking me that?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

She took a step forward, one fist thumping against her own chest.

“I was flung around like a rag doll! Inches from death! Every single second I thought that was it—that one of those punches was going to cave my head in!” Her voice climbed higher with every word as her hand tangled in her hair as if she needed to hold her skull together.. “Fear had already swallowed me whole while the rest of you just stood there watching like it was a damn show!”

She turned on each of them, eyes blazing.

“You—” she pointed at Reid, “—with your stupid commentary like I’m some circus act. You—” her finger swung to Dean, “—dragging me around like a sack of potatoes while acting like I’m the problem. And you—” she faced Enzo, voice shaking with fury, “—standing there calmly deciding my life is an acceptable risk for your fucking satisfaction!”

Her hands dropped, clenched at her sides. She was almost shouting now. “Why don’t you all just fuck off?!”

Silence crashed over the clearing.

Claire and Skye stared at her, completely stunned, then slowly turned to look at the three brothers, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

Amelia stood there heaving, shoulders trembling. The crushing weight in her chest had loosened—just a little—after finally letting everything out.

Enzo stepped forward.

Amelia’s leg shook as she instinctively backed up, only to collide with Dean’s solid frame behind her. There was nowhere left to go.

When Enzo closed the remaining distance until he was only inches away, she gulped and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for whatever punishment was coming.

Instead, strong arms slid under her knees and around her back. In one smooth motion he lifted her off the ground into a bridal style.

Amelia’s eyes flew open in pure shock. “P-put me down,” she stammered, then immediately clamped her mouth shut. Pushing further might only make things worse.

But Enzo wasn’t angry.

What moved through him was far more complicated—confusion layered with a quiet, sharp disappointment, and something else he refused to name.

He had not expected the raw, unfiltered outburst that had just spilled out of her, nor the way it unsettled something in him.

Without a word he turned and began walking out of the forest, her weight light in his arms. The others followed in silence, their footsteps muffled.

They reached the main gates and passed through. At the entrance of the mansion, Madame was already waiting, her arms crossed. The moment she caught sight of the group, she came down the steps quickly.

“Is everyone alright?” Her sharp eyes moved over each of them, looking at every cut and bruise. “I saw another one of those unusual storms.”

“Everything is fine,” Enzo replied evenly. “We managed to avoid the worst of it.”

Madame’s gaze lingered on their disheveled state and her expression grew more serious.

“I had assumed these weather phenomena were random. Appearing in different places without pattern. Now I’m no longer certain. Whatever—or whoever—is causing them, we need to find the source before it decides to target our home.”

Enzo inclined his head. “Agreed.” He glanced down at the woman in his arms. “I’ll tend to Amelia’s injuries first.”

Madame’s face softened as she looked at Amelia. “Of course. The poor thing must have been terrified.”

More like traumatized, Amelia thought bitterly.

Only then did she notice how tightly her fingers were curled into the front of Enzo’s shirt, holding on as if letting go would send her falling all over again.

Enzo carried her through the entrance without breaking stride. Reid and Dean followed close behind, Claire and Skye trailing at a more respectful distance.

Madame remained at the foot of the stairs, watching them. Her sharp eyes tracked the way Enzo held the girl, so carefully.

A small, thoughtful smile touched her lips.

This girl is making them feel things outside their usual patterns.

She had watched her sons for years. She knew the precise shape of their indifference, their distance, the way they treated most people as temporary and disposable.

Yet something about Amelia kept disrupting that order.

She hoped the change would be for the better.

Still, hope was not the same as certainty. There were too many unanswered questions surrounding the girl, and she will uncover it all.

Enzo carried Amelia straight to her room without slowing. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, crossed the space in a few long strides, and set her down on the edge of the bed.

“Rest.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Turning on his heel, he strode back toward the door. “Claire. You are coming with us.”

The doctor followed immediately, leaving Amelia alone with her thought and Skye. She sat there, still trembling, her fingers pressed against the mattress.

Minutes later the three brothers stood in the private office. Claire remained near the center of the room.

“What are you going to do about this?” she asked.

Dean spoke up first. He sat on the desk. “I have a theory. In at least one of those past lives, she was connected to the Underworld Territory. Possibly as an ally.” He paused. “Killing her would be a waste.”

Reid replied “That’s true enough. But even if she gets those memories back, she’s stubborn. The kind of stubborn that would rather bite her own tongue off than give us anything useful. She’s not exactly cooperative material.”

Enzo stood behind the desk. He turned to Claire. “Is there a way for you to force it? Force her, or force the memories to sync with her present self?”

Claire’s expression tightened as she shook her head once. “I’ve never attempted anything like that. Forcing a full synchronization between suppressed past-life memories and a living consciousness is extremely dangerous—for her and for me. The only reliable path is if she tells you willingly. And that,” she added with a dry edge, “is your problem, not mine.”

Then Reid’s mouth curved into that familiar, unsettling smile. “I know how to make her talk.”