Page 22 of Rescued by Four Alphas (Claimed by the Four Alphas #2)

Since the first day here, I've felt phantom limb syndrome of the soul.

My Omega nature cries out for them constantly, a primal part of me that doesn't understand why they aren't responding to my distress.

The drugs they pump into me suppress my shifter biology, but they can't completely sever the bonds I share with my Alphas.

Instead, I experience the most torturous teasing of those connections like flashes of emotion that might be theirs or might be my desperate imagination.

Sometimes I wake from fitful sleep, convinced I've caught Axl's scent or heard Evan's voice.

The absence of the real thing sends me spiraling into a state that mimics my heat but offers no relief.

Reid explained it to me yesterday. "Your biology is fighting the suppressants and trying to signal your Alphas.

It's fascinating how your body prioritizes the mating bond even over your comfort.

We're documenting exactly how the separation affects your hormonal balance to help design more effective control methods for future subjects. "

Future subjects. As if there will be more women like me, trapped and violated for his precious data.

The door opens again, and a technician wheels in the ultrasound machine.

She doesn't speak as she squirts cold gel onto my belly and begins the procedure.

I've been through this daily since arriving here.

The first time, I tried pleading with the technician, begging her to help me or at least tell me why she was participating in this cruelty.

She never responded, and her eyes remained fixed on the monitor as if I were nothing more than an interesting specimen.

I look at the screen drawn with images of my babies. They're so much bigger now than they should be, their features more defined. I watch their hearts pulsing rapidly on the screen and fight back a sob.

"Are they healthy?" I ask, my voice cracking.

As usual, there's no answer. The technician finishes her work, wipes the gel from my stomach, and leaves without a word.

When the door closes behind her, I break. The sobs wrack my body, making my swollen belly heave. I think of my home, of my mates, of the life we were building together. I think of the nursery we were designing, the family we were creating. I think of never seeing any of it again.

"Your daddies are coming," I whisper to my babies through my tears. "They won't let this happen to you. They're coming for us."

I must believe it. I must cling to that hope or lose myself completely.

In my more lucid moments, when the drugs temporarily thin in my system, I try to plan.

The restraints are tight, but they adjust them daily as my body changes.

If I could time it right and create a distraction during one of these adjustments, I might be able to overpower a technician.

But then what? I have no idea where I am in this facility, how many guards stand between me and freedom, or even which direction would lead to an exit.

The door hisses open again, startling me. Instead of another faceless technician, Dr. Marianna steps into the room, and my heart lurches at the sight of her.

She looks terrible. Her usually immaculate appearance has deteriorated.

Her hair hangs limp around her face, dark circles shadow her eyes, and her hands tremble slightly as she clutches a medical chart.

But she's not restrained as I am, and she wears a lab coat with an ID badge, suggesting she's moving freely through the facility.

"Dr. Baldwin," she says, her voice quavering. "I'm here to... to check your vitals and adjust your medication."

"You," I whisper. "You did this. You betrayed me."

Marianna flinches as if I'd slapped her. "Dahlia, please... You have to understand. I didn't have a choice."

"We always have choices," I spit, straining against my restraints, wishing I could wrap my hands around her throat. "You chose to drug me. You chose to help them kidnap me. You chose to condemn my babies to this."

She moves to the monitors, checking the readings with shaking hands.

"Reid took my mother," she says quietly, not looking at me.

"Three months ago. He said he'd kill her if I didn't cooperate.

I thought I could feed him information, keep him satisfied with small details.

The timing of your appointments, routine test results. .."

The betrayal cuts deeper with each word. "You've been spying on me for months? Everything I told you, every test I trusted you to perform, you shared them with him?"

Tears slip down her cheeks. "I tried to protect you as much as I could. I altered some of the results and downplayed your unique readings. But he already knew how special your pregnancy was. He's been tracking you since before the Crimson Plague."

"Why are you here now?" I demand, my voice hoarse with fury. "To check if your handiwork is progressing according to plan? To collect more data for your mother's jailer?"

Marianna finally meets my eyes, her eyes swimming with tears. "To warn you. Reid is accelerating his timeline. The other Omegas' losses have made him impatient. He's planning to induce labor within the week."

The world seems to shrink to a pinpoint of terror. "No. The babies aren't ready."

"I know," she says, "Even with the accelerants, they're still weeks away from viability outside the womb. But Reid doesn't care about long-term survival. He just needs them alive long enough to complete his initial tests."

The room spins around me, and I struggle to breathe. "Why are you telling me this? What can I possibly do, strapped to this bed?"

Marianna steps closer, lowering her voice to near inaudible. "Because I'm trying to make amends, even though I know it's too little, too late. And because your mates deserve to know what's happening."

My heart stops. "You've contacted them?"

"No," she shakes her head quickly. "That's impossible. This facility is completely isolated. But... Reid records everything. All the examinations, all the procedures. He's building a comprehensive dataset, including video documentation."

I don't understand at first, then it clicks. "The cameras."

She nods slightly. "He monitors everything in this room. Whatever you say, whatever you do… he sees and hears it all."

"Why are you here, Dr. Marianna?" I ask, my mind working furiously beneath my outwardly calm question. "You betrayed me to Reid. You helped him kidnap me. And now you expect me to believe you want to help me?"

"I never wanted this," she insists, checking the readouts on my monitors with trembling fingers. "I just wanted to protect my mother. But what he's doing now, for you, to the others, is too much. I can't be part of it anymore."

"So why not help me escape?" I challenge.

"Escape is impossible," she says. "The security is impenetrable. I'm only allowed here because Reid thinks I'm completely under his control."

"And aren't you?" I ask bitterly.

"I should go," Marianna says, suddenly nervous. "Dr. Reid will be checking my rounds."

"Wait," I say desperately. "Tell me about the induction process. What will happen to me? To my babies?"

She pauses at the door, "The procedure begins with a series of hormone injections to thin the cervix and initiate contractions. Given your advanced state, the process should progress rapidly once started. The fetuses will be removed and transferred to the examination team immediately."

"Will they survive?" I ask, my voice breaking.

Marianna looks away. "Reid doesn't expect them to survive long-term. His primary interest is in their genetic structure and the early stages of bond marker development." She hesitates, then adds softly. "I'm so sorry, Dahlia. For everything."

The door closes behind her, leaving me alone with the terrible knowledge that my babies' birth has become a death sentence. Reid plans to rip them from me before they're ready, study them until they die, and then prepare me to breed more test subjects for his monstrous vision.

I curl onto my side as much as the restraints allow, trying to comfort my swollen belly with gentle strokes. "I won't let that happen," I whisper fiercely to my children. "I promise you. He will not take you from me."

But the promise feels hollow. What power do I have here, strapped to this bed, pumped full of drugs that dull my mind and accelerate my pregnancy? What chance do four tiny, premature babies have against a government-funded madman with a laboratory full of willing assistants?

I close my eyes, desperately reaching for the bonds I share with my mates. If they're coming for me, and I have to believe they are, they're racing against a clock that's ticking faster than any of us anticipated.

Hours later, I'm jolted awake by a sharp, cramping pain that radiates from my back to my abdomen. I gasp, my hands flying to my belly as much as the restraints allow.

The door opens, and Reid enters, flanked by two technicians wheeling in equipment I haven't seen before. He looks unusually animated, almost eager, as he approaches my bed.

"Excellent timing, Dr. Baldwin," he says, checking the monitors. "We've decided to move forward with the extraction process."