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Rhea
The ride to my apartment happened in tense silence. Damon’s hand rested possessively on my thigh while Carlton drove, the weight of his palm burning through my dress like a brand. I stared out the window, watching Millbrook’s shabby streets pass by, trying to process how quickly my carefully built life was crumbling. Again.
The reality began to hit with each familiar landmark we passed. The laundromat where I’d learned to stretch quarters. The bodega where the owner sometimes slipped an extra apple in my bag. The bus stop where I’d arrived four months ago with nothing but terror and determination. All of it was about to become a memory, just like my life before.
Damon had no idea that I was carrying two of his children, not just one. I wasn’t about to give him more ammunition. One pup was leverage enough.
Carlton pulled up outside my building, the SUV looking absurdly out of place against the peeling paint and rusted fire escapes. The engine died with a finality that made my stomach clench.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I stated, the words firm despite the tremor in my hands.
Damon’s laugh was humorless, a sound that held no warmth. “You’re carrying my child in a building that should be condemned, working yourself to exhaustion, running from rogue packs at night.” His voice hardened with each word. “You’re coming home.”
The casual assumption that I’d comply, that he had any right to make demands after everything, ignited my temper like gasoline on embers. “Home? I have no home. You made sure of that.”
His jaw tightened, but his voice remained infuriatingly calm. “Pack your things. You have ten minutes.”
“Go to hell.” I bit back with more fervor than I knew I had. If he thought he could waltz back and claim ownership, then he was mistaken.
I tried to exit the vehicle but he was faster, his hand catching the door handle before I could pull it. His body caged me against the seat, not touching but close enough that his scent overwhelmed my senses. When he spoke, his voice carried the kind of casual cruelty that only came from absolute power.
“Ten minutes, or I’ll make a call.” His eyes held mine, dark and implacable. “Your parents are surviving in the outbacks, aren’t they? One word from me changes that.”
The threat landed like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. My parents, barely managing in that hellhole because of me. Because I’d gone into heat at the wrong time, in the wrong place, with the wrong alpha. They were paying for my choices, suffering in exile while I’d built this small life in Millbrook.
He read the defeat in my face, satisfaction flickering in his eyes like a predator recognizing wounded prey. “That’s what I thought. Carlton will accompany you.”
The climb to my third-floor apartment felt like ascending to execution. Each step weighted with the knowledge that I was walking away from the only stability I had found since my exile. My legs shook by the second landing, whether from emotion or the twins’ increasing demands on my body, I couldn’t tell.
Mrs. Bane poked her head out as we passed, her clouded eyes somehow still sharp enough to catch the suited security operative trailing me. Her face creased with concern at the sight of Carlton in his expensive suit and earpiece, everything about him screaming authority in a building that usually saw probation officers at best.
I managed a weak smile, trying to convey reassurance I didn’t feel. “Just packing up a few things, Mrs. Bane.”
My keys shook as I fought with the sticky lock, Carlton’s presence behind me making my fingers fumble worse. When the door finally opened, I saw my apartment through his eyes, water stains spreading across the ceiling like diseased clouds, furnitureheld together with duct tape and prayer, the obvious poverty of someone scraping by on minimum wage.
Carlton’s professional mask slipped for just a moment, his eyes widening at the conditions. A patched hole in the drywall where previous tenants had punched through. The hot plate that served as my kitchen. The bed that looked like it would collapse any minute now. And the peeling wallpaper across the room.
I wanted to scream that this was what banishment looked like, but saved my energy for packing.
“I’ll wait in the hall,” Carlton said, his voice carefully neutral. “Give you privacy.”
“Right.” The words tasted bitter. “Because he’s so concerned about my dignity.”
Everything I had tried to build was destroyed in minutes. The thought circled as I stared at my few possessions. History was repeating itself, within a mere span of four months, and I had no control.
I threw belongings into my old backpack with shaking hands, the same bag that had carried me here months ago. The prenatal vitamins Meredith had given me, carefully rationed to last as long as possible. Each bottle represented weeks of planning, of making impossible choices between food and medicine. They rattled accusingly as I shoved them deep into the bag.
The few maternity clothes from thrift stores folded into tight rolls. Three shirts that actually accommodated my growing belly. Two pairs of pants with elastic waists. All of it secondhand,carrying the ghost scents of other women’s pregnancies, other lives I’d never know.
I reached for my journal, hidden beneath the mattress like contraband. Inside, tucked between pages of desperate calculations and survival plans, was the ultrasound picture. Two tiny forms, curled together like they were protecting each other even in the womb. The secret that could give Damon even more power over me.
“This is taking too long.”
I spun to find him in the doorway, impatience written in every line of his body. He filled the frame completely, making my already small space feel like a cage. His presence here, in the sanctuary I’d carved from nothing, judging my survival, broke something inside me that had been holding on by threads.
The rage came up from somewhere deep, somewhere primal. I launched myself at him with my claws extended, my rage making my movements clumsy but fury lending strength I didn’t know I possessed. My nails found his chest before he could react, raking across expensive fabric and the flesh beneath. The silk shredded with a satisfying rip, and I smelled blood, his blood, for the first time since that night.
