Page 11 of Knotty Escape
“What’s my favorite color?” I ask, feeling the icy indifference he always subjected me to slipping over my heart.
“What? Pink. What the fuck does that matter?” he barks at me, his desperation showing. But not because he wants his girlfriend back. Not because he misses me, but rather because he wants what I did for him back.
Because he’s wrong. My favorite color isn’t pink. It’s lavender. My grandma’s favorite color. Which he would know if he knew me at all. If he knew why it was my favorite. If he knew it’s lavender because it’s the only color my grams ever wore, and it reminds me of her kind soul and loving spirit.
He knows I’m not close with my parents, and that when my grams died, I practically ghosted them. Or does he?
I laugh. I can’t help it. The sound cuts off whatever idiotic bullshit Larry was just rambling about, and I feel the final wall around my heart slot into place.
Why would I want a love like this? With a man who sees me as nothing more than an object. Who values me because of what I am, and not who I am.
I hang up and mute my phone. I can’t block the bastard because he’s holding the rest of my stuff hostage, but that doesn’t mean I have to subject myself to his bullshit.
“What’s my favorite color?” I ask Wendy as soon as I step back inside.
“Lavender, like your grams used to wear,” she says without even looking up from her phone screen. Like, the answer is so basic and easy that it requires zero thought. Tears sting my eyes, but not because of Larry’s lack of thought. No, these tears are for the best friend who knows me so well that she doesn’t have to think about the answers to my favorite things.
“Yep.” I nod, pull open her freezer, and grab a tub of chocolate ice cream. What can I say? I’m a basic omega.
Basic needs. Basic wants.
Basic. I huff out a breath as I grab a spoon.
The bar is on the fucking floor, and Larry couldn’t even meet that.
Someone should have words with his mother. Not me. Someone else. Someone stronger.
“Ugh,” I grunt, the thought pissing me off. I should be stronger. Braver.
Maybe I will go bungee jumping after all. What's that saying? Courage isn’t a lack of fear, but the ability to do things while afraid.
I snatch my phone off the cushion where I tossed it and head to the website on the back of the escape room invitation.
In three clicks, I RSVP.
I will never let an alpha treat me like I’m less than, ever again.
Chapter 7
Lila
The house before me isn’t how I imagined the Escape Room to look. It’s three levels at least. Huge. The sign above the metal archway reads ‘Knotty Escape.’ That sounds, um, suggestive?
There’s a parking lot just beyond the gate, so I park, climb out of the car, and pull my phone out of my purse, leaving it in my empty seat. Wendy answers my FaceTime call after three rings. I watch her place her phone in front of her on the floor, as she returns to the task of painting her toenails.
“What’s up, sexy?”
“Maybe I entered the address wrong?” I ask, as I turn the phone screen, so Wendy can see the house. “This can’t be the right place, can it? Knotty Escape?”
“Oh, that’s it, alright. This is just one of the locations. There are two others. This is the one used for bigger parties. The house has six rooms, plus bathrooms, of course. It can be customized, so if you want certain areas sectioned off, or like, only available after certain tasks…” She trails off with a mischievous sort of look about her, one that sends suspicion prickling down my spine. “Anyway, you’re definitely in the right spot.”
I know that look. She’s leaving something out.
“Spit it out.” I glare at her, waiting for a response.
“I’ve just heard stories, that's all,” Wendy replies dismissively, waving the nail polish brush at me, like I can’t see her face right there on my screen. “Go have fun! It’ll be a blast. Just remember you signed up for this.” With that, she blows me a kiss and then promptly hangs up before I can finish my interrogation. I try calling her again, but it declines immediately.
“Shady omega.” I shake my head, stuffing my phone in my purse. I let out a slow breath before looking back up at the house. If I want answers, I’ll just have to go find them for myself. Or leave.
