Page 21 of Knot a Tie
“Rayne!” Richard calls out, following us down the short hallway and into the kitchen. I don’t have time to take in its sparse delights as I’m shoved unceremoniously out of the grungy white UPVC back door and into a flagged yard. There are weeds growing through the cracks, and a sad looking washing line hanging limply between the rusted old Sky Satellite dish and a small, lone tree in the corner of the neighbour’s yard.
How I manage to take all of this in, while in fear for my life and faced with what must be twenty-five alphas crowded into the crappy, fenced off yard, is beyond me. Maybe it’s to try and deflect from the absolute crap I’ve found myself in. I press my cold lips together to stop the whimper that wants to break free. I will not show them I’m scared. I will not break.
The stench of scents from so many nasty alphas makes me feel even more nauseous and it becomes a battle of my will, not to throw up everywhere as I’m dragged along to the back of the yard, shown off as the prized omega that will tie these alphas to Mick.
I’m not a tie. I’m not a tie.
I repeat this mantra out of a lack of anything else to think about.
Casting my desperate gaze to Richard, who is forcefully shoving his way through the crowd, I feel all of their eyes on me. It makes my skin prickle and want to crawl off my body. Clutching at my bag again, wishing I had any form of weapon in there to hold these alphas at bay, the tears that I’d been trying to hold back, pool my eyes. Richard is just one alpha in a sea of many. There is no way he can protect me, no matter how strong he is.
I’m done for.
I look around, panic folding itself around me like a heavy, smothering cloak. The neighbouring houses are all quiet, there’s no kids playing outside or dogs barking. I’m all alone and about to find out what true horror really is.
I swallow loudly, keeping the mewl of fear, trapped in my throat. My head is spinning. Mick grabs me from Tree-man, glaring at my wrist. He draws it to his nose and sniffs. A feral growl escapes his throat, chilling me to my very core. “That won’t save you, princess,” he snarls. “You have no idea how much I want you.” He gives my face a salacious lick, making me shudder with revulsion.
He turns to the crowd and starts to speak, his fingers digging into my arm, bruising me. I can’t really hear what he’s saying. The blood is roaring in my ears as I wonder how far I’d get if I made a run for it and over the back wall. I’m not that athletic, but I bet adrenaline would get me up and over it. Surely, it’s better than just standing here. Surely, I have to try?
Before my bottle vanishes, I yank my arm from Mick’s grip, surprising him into letting me go. I launch myself at the back wall, my bag thumping next to my side. I don’t even make it before he grips my hair tightly, pulling back too hard. I yelp.
“Fucking cunt,” he growls and backhands me across the face.
Gasping, I bring my hand up to my cheek, dizzy, but not going down yet. I coil the strong leather handle of my bag around my hand and swing out wildly with it, smacking Mick in the head with it.
It barely registers with him, though. He lets go of my hair, only to wrap his hand around my throat.
“Rayne!”
Richard’s voice seems like it’s coming from a few miles away.
I kick out at Mick, aiming for his balls.
With luck on my side, I connect with the soft tissue, and he grunts, releasing me from his hold as he doubles over. I whack him over the head with my bag, feeling a sense of triumph when he goes down. So I whack him again. And again.
“Rayne!” Richard’s desperate call cuts through my victory as I’m dragged away from Mick by an alpha that wasn’t in the car earlier.
“You aren’t going anywhere, sweetheart,” he breathes on me, his foetid breath making me retch. He reaches out and squeezes my left boob, which ignites my self-preservation into an inferno of burning survival instinct.
No way. No fucking way will any of these disgusting perverts lay their hands on me.
I kick out again, aiming for knees, balls, anything that will hurt enough for him to let me go.
Sadly, he is prepared and I’m getting tired. He knows it, and sneers at me as Richard, finally free of the horde of alphas who’d blocked his way to me, punches him in the side of the head so hard, his eyes roll back, and he drops like a rock.
“Eep!” I squeal again and jump back as someone lands on Richard’s back, trying to throttle him from behind.
I lash out with my trusty bag, determined to give a five-star review on Yelp for this extraordinary accessory that is currently keeping me free, keeping me from being enslaved.
“Ooof!” Richard exclaims when I catch him on the side of the head.
“Sorry!” I cry out, sheepishly. “Sorry!”
“Run!” he chokes out. “Fucking run.”
All of the aggression has fired up the loose alphas with bad tempers and they have turned on one another.
“I’m not leaving you!” I shout back, slamming my bag into the correct alpha now and stunning him momentarily. But it’s enough to get him off Richard’s back.
