by Merel Pierce
She lay like this for some time, feeling so weak that she idly wondered if the end had finally come. She could hear two of the men talking outside, Ivan and Dante. She was too miserable to pay much attention to them and caught only the occasional word or fractured sentence as the men spoke.
As the minutes ticked by, the men seemed to draw nearer as they spoke. Finally, the lock clicked back, and the door was pulled wide, forcing her to squint against the flood of light from the room beyond. One dark silhouette motioned down at her. “You see? The girl will die before the week is out if it continues on this way.” Dante declared in his almost flowery lilt, his voice tainted with annoyance and disgust. “It is a shameful waste, treating the creature in such a way.”
The other man shrugged, the buzzed and boxy shape of his head confirming her former identification. Ivan. “She is theirs to do with as they please. I agree it is a waste, but I’m not sure what can be done. You know how Riktor is, he’s liable to lose his mind if anyone questions it. One little female isn’t worth upsetting what we’ve planned.”
“She is pregnant, Ivan! With Petrovski’s child!” Dante declared angrily. “For god sake, would it not be better to keep her alive and use that as leverage than let both she and the child die?”
The larger man sighed, shrugging his shoulders a second time. “It would only make him more determined to see us all slaughtered, my friend. I do not see how it could benefit us, and neither will Riktor or Sergei.”
Dante cursed, slamming the door and flipping the latch before he stalked away, continuing to argue with his companion as they returned to the table some yards off. December lay in mute shock where they’d left her, eyes wide and brow knit with distress. Dante claimed she was pregnant. With Nikolai’s child no less.
Realization broke through the haze of her fever, and memories of the day they’d originally brought her here came flooding back. Dante had known even then that she was pregnant. It’s why she hadn’t smelled as the young beta expected. Her heat was already fading because Nikolai had managed to impregnate her their first 24 hours together. A lump rose in her throat, and she made a strangled noise as she struggled to sit up.
She remembered now. Dante had answered the boy’s inquiry about her scent in French, and the other men had seemed surprised that it had happened so soon. ‘One less thing for us to worry about.’ Sergei had said. He’d meant they wouldn’t have to worry about impregnating her. Thinking further back to when Nikolai had left that morning, he’d been so angry…Until he scented her. Then his demeanor had changed altogether. Had he known too? December gave a tortured sob, her limbs shaking from exertion as she propped herself up on the heels of her hands and sent a frantic glance around her darkened cell.
Could it be true? Was it possible? December’s fever relinquished its hold just enough for panic to clamber to the forefront of her mind. If there was even a chance, she couldn’t just lie here and let herself die. She had to escape. She couldn’t let her baby die here at the hands of these men, before it had ever even had the chance to draw breath. An unexpected rush of warmth unfurled in her chest, a fierce sense of protectiveness making her stiffen and bristle when she heard the great metal door of the warehouse open and close.
The two alphas already present had gone quiet, speaking in subdued tones to the third who’d just arrived. December bared her teeth at the sound of his voice. Riktor. He wasn’t supposed to be here. It wasn’t his shift. No doubt he’d come with the intent of getting time alone with her before the others arrived for their normal shift. As she listened, he dismissed the other men.
With a strength she didn’t know she had, December pulled herself slowly to her feet, her entire body shaking now for an entirely different reason than before. She stumbled to the toilet and removed the heavy ceramic lid, red rage filtering into her field of vision as she limped back to the front of the bathroom and pressed herself against the wall with the lid raised before her. She was coiled and ready for when the lock slid back, and the wretched male dared to step inward.
He was never going to touch her again.
***
December gasped, agony searing her lungs as she drew her first full breath in days. Eyes wide in horror, she stared up at the darkened ceiling as she struggled to blink through the tears that were already falling. She clutched at her chest uselessly as her heart galloped beneath her fingers, her free hand instinctively lowering to cover her belly. “Oh God.”
Chapter 16
Waiting was the worst part of the curse she’d been birthed with. If this dream were another premonition and not just a hallucination, she’d receive all the same signs of the approaching event as she normally did. But she had to wait. In this instance, she hadn’t seen how things ended, only how they’d begun. It left a lot to chance, but at this point there wasn’t much left for her to lose.
Hours ticked by. Her fever continued to wreak havoc on her body, and she became so weak that she grew nervous she wouldn’t have the strength if the fated moment finally came. She sang to herself and petted her now concave stomach anxiously as she tried to pass the time.
One more nameless alpha came, used her, and went, and finally Dante and Ivan arrived. The Frenchman came to her as soon as the first shift alphas had gone, kneeling beside her to change her bandages and check for new injuries. He sat her up when he’d finished, producing a small pill from his pocket which he placed on her tongue before opening a bottle of water and helping her take a drink.
December didn’t question the medication. If he gave her anything, it was usually for pain.
She wasn’t scared of Dante. Not like the others. She did think it was unusual that he’d insisted on caring for her before Ivan had used her. Generally, he didn’t waste his time seeing to her more than once in a night and always waited until the end of his shift after his companions had finished with her. Not tonight, apparently.
“What’s wrong?” She croaked weakly as he assisted her in laying down and covered her with the blanket. She watched him closely in the dim lighting, catching the hint of worry in his eyes easily enough when he smiled gently and patted her shoulder.
“Nothing, sweet girl. Rest now.”
Brooding and nervous, December allowed herself to be shut in without protest. She scooted closer to the door, drawing her blanket tighter around her shoulders as she struggled to hear what was happening beyond her prison. She could hear the men talking, but it was difficult to tell what about when her teeth had started chattering so loudly that she was forced to push her fists beneath her chin to stop the noise.
It was the cold sweats of her fever that eventually stole her attention from the task at hand and had her drifting between a nightmare filled slumber and brief fits of consciousness. How long she hovered in this state was difficult for her to say, but the medication he gave her finally seemed to kick in and level out the effects of her illness. She was able to stay awake, though only marginally so.
December tried to focus, tried to remember what she was supposed to be doing. “Listen,” she muttered softly to herself, frowning unhappily as she pressed her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. “You’re supposed to listen.”
They spoke so infrequently at first that it was all she could do to keep her mind from straying. She forced herself to open her eyes, blinking against the light beneath the door that seemed to burn each time it hit her pupils. The discomfort helped her stay in the moment.
When the men’s conversation became more animated, something in December’s subconscious snapped to attention. She bit her lip and continued trying to eavesdrop. As the moments passed and the situation began to take on eerie similarities to her dream, the hair all over her body prickled and goosebumps raised an alarm across her skin.
Wide awake now, it took every ounce of strength she had to be still and wait. It wasn’t long. Soon enough the voices grew louder, and the lock flipped back just seconds before the door was thrown wide. She squinted up at the pair of shadowed figures, shie
lding her eyes against the light as her heart began to race nervously. The Frenchman motioned down at her in a gesture she’d seen once before, his body language showcasing his frustration.
“You see? The girl will die before the week is out if it continues on this way.”
December moaned softly when her ears began to ring and her vision blurred dangerously, the continued conversation above her becoming little more than muffled noise as she fought the urge to faint. It was happening. It was really happening. The slamming of the door seconds later startled her back to reality, and she covered her mouth to smother the sob that had risen so suddenly she couldn’t choke it back.
Adrenaline surged as she forced herself to sit up, finding the task slightly less difficult than it had been in her dream since she already knew what had to be done. Thankfully, the knowledge that she truly was carrying a tiny life allowed her to respond just as fervently in her need to protect it and save them both from the fate she had only hours ago been resigned to.
December forced herself to think about the willful abuse the males had inflicted on her, knowing all the while she was pregnant. Riktor had committed the most heinous crimes against her body and looking back on it now as she took a breath and lifted the heavy ceramic lid, she had to wonder if he’d been trying to make her abort. That, or he’d been trying to kill her slowly for what she’d cost him.
Either way, December trembled with the sort of anger that gave power to her weakened body, determined that she would use the last of her strength to try and make sure that bastard paid for what he’d done.
By the time the door to the warehouse closed behind the alphas who’d just been dismissed, the little female was already in position. Beneath the dirt and dried blood that stained her skin, her knuckles turned as white as the ceramic as the footfalls of the beast approached. Her body vibrated with the repressed rage and hurt she’d accrued over the past two weeks, all of which was about to be unleashed on the unsuspecting male who was sliding the lock back on the door to her prison.
Time stood still. As she watched the thin sliver of light expand with the opening of the portal, the proverbial dam broke. The wild beating of her heart filled her ears with deafening noise as she reared back, her eyes darting briefly towards the shadow the man cast on the wall opposite her. He was looking down, expecting to find the omega where he’d left her suffering on the floor. She bit her tongue against a rabid scream of rage, determined he should have no warning as she swung with all the might of the dreadful alpha himself.
He hadn’t seen it coming. The dull thunk of the ceramic colliding with his face was followed by the crunch of bones breaking and a gurgled cry. The force of the blow echoed through December’s arms, but she refused to give up her hold on the only weapon she had. As the male stumbled from the doorway she followed him, coiling back to strike him again and again.
She followed him to the floor when he fell, gurgling and flailing, where she continued to slam the slab into his face repeatedly until well past when the male had ceased to move. It was then that she realized that the awful noise she was hearing was her own devastated wail.
Her body heaved and shook as she looked down at the horrific mess at her feet through tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. For several moments she remained tense, watching for signs of movement with her weapon at the ready in case the male would rise again. Her mind was too muddled to immediately work out that there was no way he could still be alive. The front half of his skull was completely caved in, mushed to an unrecognizable, bloody pulp by her blows. Blows that had thrown gore-filled splatter over every surface within an eight-foot radius, including the omega herself.
Finally feeling certain that he was gone, December warily lowered the lid. A quick assessment of the dead man revealed he was wearing his gun, and as she gingerly knelt to pull it from its holster, a nagging voice in the back of her head told her to take the phone as well. She was panting by the time she’d dragged the device out of his back pocket, still trembling when she got to her feet. Irrational fear had her impulsively cocking the weapon and firing two rounds into the alpha’s chest. Still, he didn’t move.
The sound of more than one vehicle door slamming outside nearly undid her. She spun a frantic circle, desperately trying to find a place to hide. Finding none, she ran towards the door, veering to the left where there was an alcove in the wall. She pressed herself into the recess, cocking the weapon and holding it ready against her chest.
She desperately wished she could catch one of them in the doorway and make an escape, but she knew if she didn’t get them both at once it would give the survivor a chance to call for reinforcements. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she could survive a full-fledged attack by armed alphas.
Instead, she took a deep breath and held it, tears rolling silently down her cheeks as she listened to the echoed beeps of the code being punched into the lock outside, she prayed to a god she’d never believed in to show her mercy.
The benefit of arrogant men keeping one tiny female prisoner is that they weren’t ever expecting trouble. The men were talking casually as they came through the door, so caught up in their argument about a football game one of them had lost money on that they were both through the entrance before either noticed the body sprawled on the floor. The metallic clang of the door closing, and the buzz of the lock resetting were her cue.
One of the men cursed, drawing his weapon as he rushed towards his fallen comrade without bothering to clear the room. December took aim and sent up another prayer as she pulled the trigger. Later, she couldn’t remember how many shots she’d fired. The only thing she knew for certain was that the man went down like a sack of flour without so much as a noise.
She immediately turned her attention to the second male, the muzzle of her gun swinging towards him the very same instant he realized where she was and drew his own weapon. They fired simultaneously, and in her fear December somehow managed to unload the rest of her clip.
She gave a shriek of pain as heat blew through the widest part of her outer thigh, insinuating that his aim had been true before her own haphazard shots caught him in the wrist and shoulder and forced him to drop his weapon. They both watched transfixed as the gun bounced and skidded across the concrete until it came to rest midway between them.
Desperate eyes met his an instant before she exploded from the alcove. Sobbing and breathless she darted forward, ignoring the excruciating pain that burst anew with each step she took as she tried to beat the staggering male to the gun he’d dropped.
When she thought she was close enough she threw herself to the floor, snatching the gun and pulling it beneath her body just before the male landed on top of her. The breath was forced from her lungs with a miserable grunt as the bulk of the alpha twisted about on top of her, until he was astride her hips where he could use his one good arm to turn the female over beneath him. But he hadn’t thought it through. Luck was on her side again as she gripped the pistol tightly when he forced her onto her back, and before the male could wrestle it away, she’d shot him center mass. December kept shooting until the male fell back, sobbing as she dragged herself out from beneath the crumpled body and scooted as far away as she could manage.
When her arms gave out, she stopped, falling backwards on the cold floor where she lay gasping for air and wailing pitifully as she covered her eyes and let the tears fall freely.
***
She wasn't sure how long she'd been laying there. December stared blankly at the light above her, sniffling softly as the ragged rise and fall of her chest finally fell back into a relatively normal pattern. Groaning, she forced herself upright despite the pain that continued to throb and pulse through her body. She blew out a weak sigh as her eyes settled on the phone she’d discarded in the fray, laying nearby on the floor. With a whimper, she rolled to her belly and dragged herself towards it, leaving a blood trail in her wake.
When she reached the device she sagged, propped unsteadily on her elbows as
she swiped the screen to wake it. She couldn’t help the grateful bark of laughter that she expelled when the electronic screen lit up to welcome her. It wasn’t password protected. December pulled up the phone option with shaking hands but paused before she’d dialed anyone.
She frowned. Who could she call? Emergency? Her stomach rolled at the thought. If she called emergency, they would take her to a public hospital where it would be difficult for the police to keep her safe. Even if they assigned a guard, she knew it wouldn’t be hard for the alphas to pay or blackmail one into giving them access to her. They’d kill her now, for sure. No. December couldn’t call the police.
The answer was obvious, as frightened as she was to admit it. She had to try to reach Nikolai. He could get her the best care and keep her safe as well. Knowing what she did about the men who had betrayed him, she tried to assure herself that she had something of value to barter with. She wouldn’t tell him about the baby, though. She couldn’t do that.
Uncertain of how to contact him, she scrolled through Riktor’s contact list. Of course, his number wasn’t in it. Frustrated and woozy, she pulled up the internet browser and typed in the name of the first club she could remember that she knew Nikolai owned. She punched the ‘call’ button on the website and pressed her ear to the phone when it began to ring.
Her pulse fluttered nervously when someone answered, and December cleared her throat and tried to sound stoic. “I need to speak to the manager, please. It’s very important.” The girl who answered didn’t even ask why she was calling, and her hopes soared as she pictured some ditzy new waitress answering the phone as a favor to the bar tender and actually relaying to the manager that they had a call.
Her silent prayers were answered moments later when a gruff sounding man with a Russian accent came on the line. December took a deep breath.
“I know that you work for Nikolai Petrovski. I am his omega. I do not have my phone, and I am in trouble. I need for you to contact him and give him this number.”