Page 38 of Knot Their Safe Haven
I typed back, thumb hovering over send for a moment before committing.
"If this is some sort of enjoyable prank, it's not going to lead anywhere."
The response came faster than expected.
"Not a prank. Just curious—do you have any regrets if today was your last day?"
I stared at the screen, something cold settling in my stomach. The question felt heavier than it should, weighted with meaning I couldn't quite grasp. Around me, traffic remained frozen, but the world suddenly felt like it was holding its breath.
Last day.
Did I have regrets?
I laughed, the sound bitter in the confined space. Did I have regrets? My entire life was built on regret. Regret for chances not taken, words not spoken, love not claimed. Regret for twenty years of dancing around what I wanted, what I needed, what my body screamed for in the darkness.
Why not? Why not tell this stranger—Malcolm or Knox or whoever was playing this game—the truth?
"Yeah. I have regrets."
"What's one you'd change?"
I leaned back, closing my eyes against the afternoon sun filtering through the windshield. One regret. Just one from the collection that haunted me every night, that whispered in my ear every time I woke alone, that aged me faster than time ever could.
The answer came without thought, fingers moving across the screen like confession.
"My biggest regret is assuming the men in my life would commit to me. Court me. Love me enough to make it official in the world."
I paused, throat tight with unshed tears. But I wasn't done. The words needed to be said, even if only to a stranger hiding behind birthday digits.
"And if everything went to the pits in this very moment, I'd regret not experiencing what it was like to be claimed by just one Alpha."
Send.
The weight of that admission sat heavy in the car, more real for being voiced. Even through text, even to someone who might be playing games, it felt like finally telling the truth after decades of lies.
"So to answer your question, what I'd do differently?"
I smirked, thinking of green eyes and dangerous smiles, of French conjugations that felt like foreplay, of a boy who'd looked at me like I was worth wanting without conditions.
"I would have probably said fuck professionalism and age and gave that student I was tutoring my number."
The words flew into the digital void before I could stop them. If this was Malcolm, it would hurt him to know I thought of another Alpha, thought of what might have been with someone else. But maybe that was what we needed—honesty about how badly we'd all failed each other.
The typing bubble appeared immediately, those three dots that meant someone was crafting a response. I waited, unconsciously holding my breath, for whatever game this was to reveal itself.
That's when I sneezed.
Hard and sudden, the kind that made your whole body convulse. My nose wrinkled at the strange smell that followed—acrid and wrong, like chemicals wearing the mask of sweetness. Every Omega instinct I had screamed danger, but my body felt oddly heavy, thoughts moving through molasses.
The text came through, and I had to squint to focus on the words swimming on the screen.
"Je ne t'ai jamais oubliée, Velvet."
I never forgot you, Velvet.
French. Perfect, fluent French with the kind of accent marks only someone who truly knew the language would bother with in a text.
My eyes widened as much as the growing heaviness would allow, heart hammering against ribs that suddenly felt too tight.
