Page 84 of In Knots

“Goodness, we will have to go inside.” They start to stand, pushing back their chairs.

“Come on, Alexa,” my mother says as I sit there. Simon offers me his hand.

“No,” I say. “No.”

“No?” Simon says with a hint of amusement.

“No, I don’t think so,” I say.

“You don’t think so,” my father says. “What do you mean, Alexa? Talk some sense.”

“I don’t want to go inside.”

I push my chair back and I start to walk.

“Alexa!” my father barks as I walk down the terrace, away from them.

“It’s okay,” I hear Simon say. “I’ll go.”

I spin around to face them. Raindrops hit my head and the lightning slices the sky in two. “No!” I shout. “No!”

“Alexa, darling, come inside,” my mother calls, a stiff smile fastened to her lips.

I take a step backwards, “No.”

“Omega,” Simon growls, coming closer, flinching against the fierce drops that batter his face. “It’s not safe out here. Come with me.” More thunder rolls above us and it’s so dark now, almost like night. His hand hovers in the space between us. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Omega,” he growls.

“I won’t marry you,” I yell at him, above the drumming of the rain. “I don’t want to.”

“Can we go inside and talk about this?” he says through gritted teeth, wiping the water from his eyes.

“There is nothing to talk about. I’m not marrying you.”

He shakes his head at me, then turns and marches towards the house.

“She’s just a little shaken up,” my father says, following the men inside. “She’ll come around.”

“Needs a little discipline from her alpha,” Simon’s father says. “Needs to know who is in charge.”

“Alexa!” my mother calls, Mrs Stanford hovering just behind her. She steps towards me and I back away. “Your father won’t stand for this,” she pleads.

“It isn’t his choice to make,” I snap at her.

My mother looks away, across the wet lawn. “It is.” Then she spins around and dashes through the water towards the house.

Mrs. Stanford stands staring at me. “My son is a good boy, Alexa. I know it can be daunting. I was terrified by the prospect of being … But it is bearable. You are tougher than you think.”

“I don’t want my life to be bearable!” I shout. She flinches and I squeeze my hands together. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I disappointed you. But this isn’t what I want.”

I know what I want.

The woman’s face darkens. “In that case, stay out in the rain if you please. There’s nowhere else to go.”

I walk through the garden, the wet grass seeping through my sandals, my feet slipping against the soles. I walk until I’m lost in flower beds and between bushes, I walk until I find the high fence circling the grounds of the property.

I scream. Unhooking my ruined shoes from my feet and tossing them against the wooden slats.

I’m trapped.

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