Alpha frowned. Okay, now his threats were going into monologue-like material. She realized he was probably bluffing, like she was, and that released a little of the tension in her chest. "Hah!" she said at his calling her pathetic, "look who's talking. If I'm pathetic, I'd like to see you try to escape a whorehouse with a pack of angry dogs and men with blades at your back while your hands are tied. You wouldn't make it two feet." But she had. She'd made it three hundred feet, down the halls, through the back streets, and gotten the hell out of there. It wasn't as if she'd wanted to stay in the first place- everyone she'd ever cared about was dead. It had been rather a relief (although she certainly hadn't seen it that way at first) when the owner of the brothel blamed her for the death of her mother (one of the 'favorites') and sent an angry mob with really nothing better to do after her. In the heat of this moment, she'd brought it up as a jab at the stranger, but now she realized that was quite an overshare and she silently cursed at herself, unable to take it back.