Page 34 of Knot The Nanny We Planned

I keep walking.

JD's door is last. The Alpha. The leader. The man who growled my name in the shower and came so loud the walls shook. The man who said nobody touches her, not until she asks, and meant it, even though every line of his body screamed that he was dying to break his own rule.

I stop.

His scent is the strongest here. Pine and smoke, seeping through the gap under his door, wrapping around my ankles like a rope. My body responds, slick, immediate and embarrassing, and my inner omega whines. Alpha. Alpha is close. Alpha will protect us. Alpha will keep us. Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't…

I press my hand against the door. The wood is warm. He's right there. Inches away. If I knocked, he'd open it in a heartbeat. If I stepped inside, he'd catch me before I hit the floor.

And if I stayed, if I let him claim me, knot me, bond me, and then it faded? If the match weakened the way Serena said it would, and JD looked at me one day with flat, empty eyes the way Serena described?

I wouldn't survive it.

I pull my hand back.

I stop in front of Lily’s room, and tears track down my cheeks. I don’t want to leave her, but all I can do is pray that, in her youth, she will quickly forget about me.

I walk down the hallway, through the living room, past the kitchen where Knox cornered me, past the island where Deklan told me to sit and eat. The penthouse is dark and quiet, and every surface holds a memory. The counter where Knox whispered filth in my ear. The stove where JD made pancakes. The doorway where Deklan leaned and watched me with those dark, unreadable eyes.

‘You're our home,’ Deklan said.

Home, I think, and the word tastes like ash.

I reach the elevator. The private one, the one that goes straight to the parking garage. I press the call button, and the soft chime sounds obscenely loud in the silence. I wince, glancing back down the hallway.

Nothing moves. No doors open. No footsteps sound. The elevator arrives, I step inside, and the doors close. And just like that, I'm falling.

The lobby is empty at 2:23 AM. The night doorman, a middle-aged Beta named Frank who's been nothing but polite, looks up from his desk with a surprised expression.

"Ms. Vasquez? Everything okay?"

"Fine, Frank. Just going for a walk."

He frowns. "At two in the morning? Alone?" His nostrils flare, scenting me, reading the distress in my scent. A Beta's sense of smell isn't as sharp as an Alpha's, but distress is distress. "Can I call someone for you? Mr. Blaine's car is…"

"I'm fine," I say, and I force a smile. "Fresh air. I'll be back."

The lie tastes bitter, and Frank doesn't look convinced, but he nods and returns to his desk. I push through the revolving door and step out into the night.

The city is different at 2 AM. The traffic has thinned to occasional taxis and delivery trucks. The streetlights cast pools of amber on the sidewalk, and the air is cool, almost cold against my bare arms. I pull my sleeves down over my hands and walk.

I don't have a plan. I don't have a destination. I have $312 in my checking account, a duffel bag of thrift-store clothes, and a phone with a dead battery.

I walk.

The streets narrow as I leave the gleaming downtown core and enter a neighborhood of bodegas and laundromats and apartments with fire escapes. This is closer to my world, not the penthouse world, not the billionaire world, but the real one. The one where people work for a living, count their change, and don't hire omegas through exclusive matching services.

I pass a 24-hour diner. The windows are fogged, and the neon sign buzzes and flickers. Inside, a few night-shift workers hunch over coffee, a cook moves behind the counter, and a waitress refills cups. It looks like my mother's diner.

I keep walking.

Three blocks later, I find a bus stop. The schedule on the metal sign says the next bus comes at 3:15 AM. Cross-town to the regional station. From there, I can catch a bus to Millbrook. Six hours. I'd be home by morning.

Home.

The word feels wrong. Millbrook isn't home, it's the place I left. The place with no opportunities, no future, no possibility of being anything more than what I've always been. The waitress's daughter. The omega who couldn't afford to finish school.

But at least in Millbrook, I know what I am. I'm not a placeholder there. I'm not a match. I'm not a function. I'm just Willow, small, unremarkable, and safe.