Chapter Fourteen
Jessa had been in and out of consciousness for some time. The rhythmic spin of the wheels, the low hum of the engine, lulled her back into the dark. But the occasional bump or stop jolted her awake, bracing, waiting for someone to come get her. Then what? Cyrus’s words offered some sort of comfort—if he honored them. But being kept prisoner until her baby was born… It was a good thing she was too scared to cry, or she’d have made herself sick.
She tried not to think about Brown. Or her brothers. Or Oscar. Or Finn. She tried to focus on staying calm. She needed to be strong for the baby in her belly. Finn’s baby. A wolf, strong and proud, loyal and fierce.
She had no idea how long they’d been driving, only that her left arm was completely numb from being pinned beneath her. Her back stung. Her body throbbed, the bag over her head stuck to her temple, sealing in the heat, sweat, and smell of her own blood.
The car went over several bumps, slowing considerably. She heard voices and a door opening, but the engine was still running. What now?
Cold air. The car door was open. She pushed away, trying to press herself into the other side of the car. But that door opened too and a huge hand encircled her upper arm and tugged her from the car. She stumbled, uncertain in the darkness that still covered her.
“Why did he bring her here?” a voice asked, softly—nervous.
“He wants Dean. But if he can’t get him, his offspring is the next best thing,” another voice, hard and gruff, answered.
“She’s breeding?”
“Shut up, he’s coming.” The hard voice snapped.
“Look who’s up and on her feet?” Cyrus’s voice.
She wanted to run, to curl in on herself. But the hand was tugging her forward, uncaring when she tripped or stumbled.
“Any news?” Cyrus asked.
“Thomas is on the run,” the other voice answered. He must be the one dragging her along. “The angry one is following him. Thomas is not sure he can outrun him.”
“And he’s bringing him here?” Cyrus asked.
“I guess so—”
“You guess so?” Cyrus repeated.
They came to an abrupt stop.
“Find out,” Cyrus growled, making the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up.
“Yes, sir,” the voice said. “What do I do with her?”
There was a long pause. “Take her to Ellen. I want a full work-up before she goes below.”
“Yes, sir,” the voice repeated.
“And find out about Thomas,” Cyrus snapped.
They were moving again, so quickly her feet barely touched the ground. “Stairs, going up,” the voice said before pulling her up the steps.
She was out of breath, aching and miserable, when they stopped again.
“Ellen,” the voice said. “Cyrus wants a full work up on her. She’s breeding.”
“She’s breeding?” the woman’s voice was incredulous. “Is she one of us?”
“No,” Jessa spoke. “I’m not a werewolf.”
The bag was snatched off her head, tearing the scab free. Jessa winced, covering the wound on her temple and blinking rapidly from the overwhelmingly bright light.
“You’re the mate?” The woman, Ellen, stared at her, circling her slowly.