Page 18 of Knot the Stray

I step out of the bathroom and creep into the living area. Every floorboard squeak makes me cringe. My worn suitcase sits right by the front door, still packed from the day I arrived. I never unpacked it. My subconscious knew this town was a trap from the start.

I grab the canvas straps of the bag and sling it over my shoulder. Winston sits on the back of the floral sofa. He watches me with judging green eyes. His ears flick back, picking up on the frantic energy rolling off my skin. I grab his hard plastic carrier from the corner of the room. I pop the metal grate open and approach the sofa. I need him secure before I open the front door. The last thing I need is a loose cat messing up my escape.

“Come here, buddy.” I keep my voice to a bare whisper. I scoop the tuxedo cat into my arms.

Winston lets out a confused trill. I shove him into the plastic box before he can complain and lock the metal grate. I grab my keys off the kitchen counter. I pat my back pocket, my fingers tracing the familiar square shape of my wallet.

I take one last look at the bed. Nolan and Edward remain asleep, exhausted from the demands of the heat. They look peaceful; it makes my chest hurt.

I turn my back on them. I grip the handle of the cat carrier and walk out of the apartment. I lock the door behind me. My heart hammers against my ribs as I head for the stairs.

I creep down the narrow staircase leading to the clinic lobby. The wooden steps creak under my boots, the sound echoing like gunshots in the quiet building. Every time a board groans, a tense pause follows as my ears strain for any movement from the apartment above. Nothing. Reaching the bottom floor, the sterile linoleum offers a solid surface under my feet.

The silence of the clinic amplifies the racing beat of my heart. The smell of bleach and antiseptic clears the last lingering traces of their pack scent from my nose. Walking into the lobby, I stop in front of the reception desk.

Pulling the master ring of clinic keys from my pocket, the brass metal stares back at me from my palm. Dropping these keys on the counter means breaking my contract. Abandoning the animals and running away from a job for the first time in my career sends a wave of guilt over me, but the terror of losing my autonomy pushes the hesitation aside. Setting the keys on the laminate desk, the soft clink sounds like a final resignation.

Adjusting the strap of my duffel bag and gripping Winston’s carrier, a direct path leads to the back exit.

Pushing through the thick metal door, the cool, crisp morning air hits my face. The gravel parking lot sits empty, holding nothing but my battered camper van. Their vehicles remain parked out front on the street, leaving my escape route clear.

Breaking into a jog, the gravel crunched loudly under my boots. Reaching the van, a hard yank opens the side door to toss my duffel bag onto the mattress in the back. Setting Winston’s carrier on the passenger seat, threading the seatbelt through the plastic handle keeps him secure.

“Time to get out of here, Winston.” I slam the door shut.

Running around the front of the van, a quick climb puts me in the driver’s seat. My hands shake shoving the key into the ignition. Twisting it hard, the engine roars to life. Cranking the steering wheel, my foot hovers over the brake pedal.

Shifting the gear into reverse, a glance in the rearview mirror lines up the exit.

A dark truck idles near the alley entrance. The sound of tires crunching on the gravel escaped my notice over the roar of my engine. Jake steps into my line of sight, walking from his vehicle into my path. He wears jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a cardboard drink tray with four coffees.

Slamming my foot on the brakes, the van jerks to a harsh stop, the tires kicking up dirt.

My heart leaps into my throat. Gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, my chest heaves. Taking my foot off the brake means the van rolls back and crushes his legs. He knows it.

The clinic’s back door bangs open a second later. The metal crashes against the brick exterior. Edward and Nolan burst out into the gravel lot. Edward pulls a t-shirt over his head on the run. Nolan holds his glasses in his hand, his hair a tangled mess. Looking frantic, their eyes scan the parking lot before locking onto the running van.

Bracing myself, the expectation of territorial Alphas takes over. Rage, demands, and commands to turn the engine off seem inevitable. Ripping my door open and dragging me back inside makes the most sense.

Stepping out from behind the bumper, Jake walks up to the driver’s side of the van, the coffees still balanced in his hand. He stops a few feet away from the metal door. Projecting a steady, grounding presence, he looks at me through the dirty glass, his dark eyes calm and focused. Anger is absent from his expression. Looking like a man trying to soothe a cornered animal, the absolute lack of aggression throws my defensive instincts into a tailspin. The panic in my chest stutters, confused by his calm demeanor.

Edward and Nolan stop a dozen yards away, giving us space.

Pointing a finger at the window, Jake makes a slow, rolling motion. He wants to talk.

I roll the glass rolls down, letting the cool morning air and the scent of fresh rain into the cab. “I’m leaving.” My voice shakes, but a forced determination keeps my gaze locked on his dark eyes. “Move out of the way, Jake. And where the hell did you even come from?”

“I went home to feed Duke and let him out since the rain kept us from doing it last night.” Jake keeps his tone low and even. “I checked the storm damage around town and grabbed us some coffee on the way back.” He shifts his weight, his expression serious. “I hear you, Jessie. I won’t stop you. If you put this van in reverse right now, I’ll step aside and let you drive out of town. But I ask you to hear me out first. Just give me two minutes.”

Staring at him, the expected Alpha aggression never surfaces. He sounds like a rational man offering a conversation.

“The scent match spooked you.” Jake takes a half-step closer, stopping when my spine goes rigid. “You woke up, realized what happened, and hit the panic button. You think staying means handing over the keys to your life.”

My jaw tightens. “It does. Omegas don’t get to keep their autonomy. The second people figure out my designation, they try to cage me.”

“I get it.” Jake nods. “You busted your ass to build this life. You trust yourself and nobody else. I like how stubborn and independent you are. I don’t want to change a damn thing about you.”

His words hit me right in the chest. He doesn’t dismiss the fear. He looks past the Omega designation and sees the armor. The thick, defensive walls start to crack.