Page 59 of In Knots

“Whatever you say, Alexa. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I stare at my phone after he hangs up, half expecting my parents to call next. Is he going to rat on me?

“Everything alright?” Cam asks, behind me.

“I think so.”

“They don’t know you’re here?” he asks.

I shake my head, that shame swimming through me again.

“I used to lie to my folks when I was a kid, sneak out the house, head off to the pub we’re going to now.”

“Did you get caught?”

He grins. “No, but years later I found out they knew exactly what I was doing. They said every kid needs a chance to rebel. Not that mine was a particularly big rebellion. Joining the motorcycle club? That ruffled a few more feathers. But everything’s alright now.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be so lucky,” I confess.

“Come on,” he says, “the others are waiting.”

We walk along the busy streets. The pavements are cracked, cans and plastic bottles crushed by the side of the road and sticking out of hedgerows. Shopkeepers drag down their shutters and kids ride up and down on their bikes. The smell of barbecues float in the warm breeze and I can hear music playing over the sound of the traffic.

The pub comes into view around the next corner.

“It’s our local,” Ryan tells me, holding my hand as we walk. “It looks pretty rough but the people are good ones.”

The pub is like somewhere I’ve never stepped inside. It stands on the corner of two intersecting streets with darkened windows and dying flowers hanging from baskets around the door. Against its walls lean several people, smoking and nursing half-drunk pints, and the door swings open and shut frequently with the arrival and exit of more patrons, the murmur of voices and the mixture of scents wafting out each time.

All the other women are wearing cut-off jean shorts and t-shirts pulled tight around their bodies and tied with a knot, showing flashes of midriff. I’m dressed in my summer skirt and blouse, ballet pumps on my feet.

“You look beautiful, princess,” Ryan says, noticing the way I peer down at my outfit. “Although I’d love to get you in a pair of those shorts. Your arse would look fantastic. Maybe I’ll buy you a pair. It’s payday, you know?”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” he grins.

“What does that mean?” I ask with suspicion.

“It means we’re going to blow all our money on beer and stumble home at closing time,” Bear tells me and Buzz chuckles.

“Not tonight,” Ryan says, “not when we’re responsible for looking after our omega.”

Bear halts by the door and leans on it. “Looking after an omega sounds like a lot of fun,” he says.

“Just get the pints in,” Ryan tells him, pushing him through the doorway.

The air inside the pub is dank and dark, and it takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. The place is heaving; people gathered around the bar and occupying all of the tables, people standing in the spaces between and a game of darts taking part in one corner.

Several people call out and wave, greeting the pack, and Bear strolls in their direction.

Buzz shakes his head. “I’d better get those beers. He’ll be chatting away like an old grandma for at least the next thirty minutes.”

Ryan grips my hand and leads me through the crowd, Cam at my back, until he finds a table in the corner where a group of teenagers are lurking, clearly not old enough to be in here.

“Scram,” Ryan tells them and they scurry out the back door. “They shouldn’t be in here,” he says when I raise my eyebrow at him.

“I hear you were in here yourself when you shouldn’t have been.”

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