Page 25 of Betrayed Knocked-Up Mate (Rosecreek Special Ops Wolves #8)
The room they're holding me in reeks of old blood and older violence, layers of story written in scent that make my enhanced senses recoil. Not fresh pain—no active torture chamber this—but something almost worse: the kind of ingrained suffering that speaks of history, of countless acts of cruelty soaked into the imported marble floors and mahogany walls.
Beneath the sharp bite of industrial cleaners, my wolf picks up the chapters of this place's story: copper and fear, gunpowder and death, the particular acrid smell of shifter blood spilled in violence. Notes of something deeper, too—the lingering traces of desperate bargains and broken spirits that make my stomach turn.
Or maybe that's just the morning sickness, hitting even now, even here. My body doesn't care that I'm tied to a chair in a monster's lair. It has its own agenda, its own priorities. The child growing inside me demands attention regardless of circumstance, making itself known through waves of nausea that I fight to control.
I can't show weakness. Not here. Not to him.
My head throbs where I struck it against the window as the car rolled, the wound still seeping blood down my neck. Stars dance at the edges of my vision whenever I move too quickly, but I force myself to stay alert, to keep working the zip ties against the rough edge I found on the metal chair frame. They weren't careful checking the furniture—probably because they'd never had a prisoner who spent five years learning survival skills in war zones.
The zip ties bite deep enough to draw blood as I work them against the metal, but I've had worse. The key is patience, steady pressure, using the restraint's own tension against it. Like sawing rope, wearing down resistance, and everything I've learned about surviving impossible situations.
Kane paces before me with precise steps, every movement calculated for maximum effect. His suit remains immaculate despite the violence, like he's attending a business meeting rather than holding a pregnant woman captive.
"Protective already," he notes, voice dripping false concern. "I can tell by your scent. Just like Marcus's mother was. Did he ever tell you about her? About how she tried to shield her stomach when I killed her, thinking I might spare her unborn child?"
Ice floods my veins. "What?"
"Oh yes." His smile holds no warmth. "She was carrying Marcus's sister when I finally caught up with them, though to this day, I’m not sure he knows. All those dreams of continuing their tainted bloodline, of spreading their poison about cooperation with humans." He adjusts his cuffs with deliberate precision. "She begged, you know. Not for herself, but for the child. For Marcus. Such maternal instincts."
Bile rises in my throat, but I force it back. Keep working the zip tie against the metal edge, letting his voice wash over me as I search for weaknesses, for opportunities, for anything I can use.
"Marcus was there to find their bodies," Kane continues, clearly relishing the story. "I made sure of that—made sure he understood exactly what happens to traitors who think we should bow to humans instead of ruling them."
The zip tie frays another fraction.
"His father was the worst kind of traitor," Kane's voice drips contempt. "An Alpha from an ancient bloodline, choosing to contaminate his legacy with human collaboration. Building bridges instead of maintaining boundaries. Teaching his son that we should integrate rather than dominate."
He spits the word like a curse, but I barely hear him. My mind races with implications, with understanding, with five years of questions finally finding answers.
Marcus pushing me away after his parents' deaths, the way he became hollow and closed off. His denial—his rejection, how I never saw him again. His desperate need to protect everyone he loves. The weight he's carried alone all this time.
"The suppression weapon was designed for creatures like them," Kane continues, warming to his subject. "Shifters who forget their true nature, who choose weakness over strength. The serum doesn't just strip their abilities—it reminds them what they are. What they've lost through their own choices."
"You're insane," I breathe, unable to help myself. The zip tie parts another fraction.
His laugh holds genuine amusement. "That's exactly what Sophia—Marcus's mother—said, right before I opened her throat. Right before I made him watch as his family's legacy bled out across imported marble floors." He leans closer, inhaling deeply. "You even smell like her, you know. That same taint of civilization beneath shifter blood. But you carry something far more precious, don't you? The next generation of Hillmarton weakness, growing beneath your heart."
My wolf snarls at the threat to our child, but I keep my voice steady. "If Marcus is so weak, why haven't you killed him yet? Why play these games?"
"Games?" Kane's eyes flash gold. "This isn't a game, my dear. This is a cleansing. A purging of corrupt blood from our species. Marcus's parents were just the start—now I'll end their line completely. No more diplomatic missions, no more human cooperation, no more dilution of what makes us strong. The other traitors will follow. None will be spared. It’s the most humane way to do this—prune the weak and rotten, and the tree grows back healthier.”
A crackle of static makes us both freeze.
Through the white noise, from a radio perched on a nearby table, I catch Elena's voice, sharp with command, though I can’t make out what she’s saying.
I raise my voice. “Elena! They’re on your frequency, you’re tapped—”
Kane's expression darkens as he springs for the radio, flicking it off. Elena’s voice and the static end abruptly.
He backhands me hard across the mouth. I’m proud of myself for hardly flinching, keeping my eyes cold, sharp, and alert even as my face burns.
“Stay,” he warns, and retreats to the door.
The moment he leaves, I redouble my efforts on the restraint. The zip tie finally snaps, my wrists bleeding but free. Five years of running taught me more than escape techniques—it taught me to read rooms, to spot improvised weapons, and to think three steps ahead of anyone hunting me.
For once, it feels like it might have been worth it.
The lamp on the side table is heavy crystal, expensive like everything else in this monument to Kane's twisted ideology. It shatters satisfyingly against the wall, leaving me with a jagged weapon that catches the light like teeth.
My other hand presses against my stomach, feeling for the tiny spark of life that changes everything. Marcus's child. Our child. Everything Kane wants to destroy, everything he thinks weakens us, growing strong beneath my heart.
Through the walls, I hear the distant sound of fighting. Marcus is coming—I know it like I know my own heartbeat.
But this time, I won't wait to be rescued. This time, I have something worth fighting for.
The crystal shard feels right in my hand as I move toward the door, letting my wolf rise closer to the surface. Five years ago, I ran from love because Marcus pushed me away. Now I understand why—understand the weight he carried, the choices he made, the desperate need to protect that drove him to break both our hearts.
But I'm not running anymore.
Kane thought he could use my pregnancy as a weapon against us. Thought he could destroy Marcus's bloodline, erase his parents' legacy of cooperation and hope. Figured he could break us with the very thing that makes us strongest.
He has no idea what a mother wolf will do to protect her child.
The door opens silently as I press my ear against it, listening for movement in the hallway. Footsteps echo from multiple directions—guards moving with military precision, responding to whatever havoc Marcus and the teams are wreaking outside. Through the broken window, I smell woodsmoke and cordite, hear the sharp retort of gunfire moving closer.
My time is now.
The crystal shard catches dying sunlight as I adjust my grip, feeling my wolf rise with protective fury. They think pregnancy makes me vulnerable. They're about to learn how wrong they are.
I bare my teeth in something that isn't quite a smile and move into the hallway like smoke, like shadow, like everything Kane fears we might become. Let them come. Let them see what love, legacy, and the promise of a future can do.
I'm done being afraid.