Page 13 of Princess (Marinah and the Apocalypse #5)

We led them to the indoor training facility.

It was large enough to hold them and had bathrooms. Long tables were set up in the corner with steaming trays of food for those hungry enough to eat.

One of the older girls saw the food and led a group of the children toward the tables. Food overrode wariness.

Maria, the island woman who had lost her child, lingered near Missy, hovering, her hands clenched tightly together with an expression of longing. It was mixed with loss, and my heart physically hurt for her. I couldn’t help placing my hand on my belly for a few seconds.

It took about thirty minutes for the children to settle. Some sat with plates balanced on their laps, eating mechanically. Others cradled plastic cups filled with water, staring blankly, unsure of what came next.

Axel examined me, his usual tight-lipped expression on full display as he cleaned my wounds with antiseptic. It burned like holy hell, but I didn’t make a single whimper, or he would have complained more. I sustained some type of injury almost weekly, and he took it as a personal affront.

“How many hellhounds?” he asked.

“Eleven.” I hesitated, trying to keep a hiss out of my next words. “There were twelve, but the four older teens took it down.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Interesting.”

He didn’t say more, but I could practically hear the wheels turning inside his head. Four untrained adult humans would have trouble bringing down a hellhound and living to tell about it.

Axel moved to my stomach, pressing the stethoscope against my skin, listening intently.

“The baby appears no worse for wear.” His lips quirked. “I’ll have an entire medical textbook written by the time this child is delivered. I suppose you rode one of the damned motorbikes.”

“Last ride until after the baby is born,” I said.

“It’s about time,” he grumbled. “After the birth, we’ll know more about hellhound toxins and how they interact during pregnancy.”

He worried constantly about what a hellhound bite or scratch could do to the baby.

At least we knew after several scratches and bites from earlier altercations, they didn’t seem to have an effect.

But he was right, and the definitive answer would come after the baby was born.

Ms. Beast didn’t worry about me shifting form and fighting. I trusted her to a point.

Axel’s tone hardened. “Would you follow orders if I told you to stay in bed tomorrow?”

I simply stared at him with a ‘what are you, dumb?’ look.

He sighed. “I didn’t think so.”

I patted his arm. “Take care of King while I speak to the children.”

Axel grumbled under his breath before muttering, “Yes, my Queen.”

I shot him a glare, but he only smirked. He knew exactly how much that irritated me, especially coming from him.

I stepped toward the children. Their chatter died.

My gaze swept the group. “Hi, everyone. I’m Marinah.” My voice carried through the training center. “I know you’re tired, and you’re worried about what happens next.”

A flicker of unease rippled through them. Several clutched younger children, and their arms tightened.

“I’m aware that the teenagers have been caring for you, and you don’t want to be separated.” I let the statement hang, making sure they knew I understood. “It would help if you could break into groups with those you want to stay with. Please do that now.”

Silence.

No one moved.

The four teens sat on the floor, positioned in front of the group, like a shield.

I directed my question to them. “Is there someone who speaks for you?”

The boy with the attitude stood.

“I do.”

Of course he did.

I nodded. “Please call me Marinah. What should I call you?”

“Desmond,” he said, belligerence laced into the two syllables.

Now that I could see him clearly, I took in the details.

His wavy brown hair hung limply to his shoulders, damp from either sweat or the humid night air.

He was tall, still growing into his frame, thin, but wiry rather than emaciated.

A square jaw framed his face, his teeth clenched so tightly that the ever-present sneer seemed permanently etched there.

I ignored his attitude. “Is it possible for them to divide into groups?” I asked, keeping my tone even.

Desmond spread his arms wide. “This is our group.”

Alrighty then.

“There are three babies,” I pointed out. “Did everyone take care of them?”

He gave a single, firm nod.

I turned my attention to the younger children.

“This is the citadel. It has enough beds for everyone, and we can arrange rooms to fit four of you together. You will all be in the same hall. The citadel won’t work long-term,” I continued, “but for a few days, you’ll be fine.

We have families on the island who want to help.

Maybe if you take some time to think about it, you will see that being on the island will give you a better life. ”

Did the younger kids understand? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t good at this. “You’ll have the chance to meet the families to make your decisions easier. If you decide to stay grouped together at the citadel, we will find a way to make it work.”

A few of the children exchanged glances with the teens, but their expressions remained filled with distrust.

“I do need to warn you,” I went on, “some of the families I’ve told you about don’t have an English speaker in the house. Does anyone speak Spanish?”

Silence. No hands went up.

I turned to Desmond. “Do they need your permission to answer?”

His expression darkened. “No,” he said flatly. “They just don’t want to.”

I exhaled through my nose, keeping my expression neutral.

Hanging Desmond up by his thumbs probably wouldn’t go over well.