Jessa sat on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Not bad. I’d have slept easier without all the noises and odors these two made,” she glared at Dante and Gentry. “But my arm’s better. I feel good.” She glanced at Jessa, her smile fading. “You’re keeping me?”
Jessa frowned. “You saved me. I couldn’t leave you there.”
Ellen nodded. “And I thank you for that.”
“But?” Jessa probed.
“But I want to go home,” she said. “To my pack.”
“Not that there’s much left but a large patch of scorched earth,” Gentry said, sipping coffee. “You’d have been part of that barbecue.”
“That place wasn’t my home.” Ellen frowned, her hands clenching in her lap.
“Where is home?” Jessa asked.
Ellen looked at her. “That’s not really any of your business.” She wasn’t hostile, just matter-of-fact. “Will you let me go?”
Jessa looked at Dante. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen. He stood, all but barring the door, his arms crossed over his chest. She didn’t know what had been said or decided as far as Ellen was concerned. She was with the Others, someone the pack listened to. It made sense to question her, to glean any information she might have before they freed her.
But the idea of holding Ellen captive––Jessa’s stomach churned. She swallowed, pressing a hand to her belly.
Ellen smiled. “Ah, the joys of breeding.”
Jessa’s smile was thin, the threat of throwing up very real.
“She needs water,” Ellen said to Dante.
Dante sighed, glared at Ellen, and did as she said.
The water helped. A little.
“Thank you,” Jessa said. “You have children.”
The pain in Ellen’s eyes was unbearable. “No.”
Jessa studied her, willing to beg for what she wanted. “Ellen, I need your help. Please. I’d like to think you’re wrong, that I’m fine. That I won’t die. But I don’t want this baby to die. I think you can help me, help the baby.” She sucked in a deep breath, fighting off tears. “I’m begging you to stay. After that, I give you my word you’re free to go.”
Ellen’s eyes blinked in surprise. She hesitated, chewing on her thumbnail and studying Jessa for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she slid forward, pressing her hand against Jessa’s stomach. She sighed, her rigid posture—her fight—fading before Jessa’s eyes.
“For the baby, Jessa.” Ellen looked at her, her gaze hard. “Not for you. Not for him. He is my enemy. You all are. But for the survival of our kind, I will help you.”
Jessa smiled. “Thank you Ellen. Thank you.” She clasped Ellen’s hand in hers, squeezing it softly. Her gaze fell, noting the scars that wrapped around her forearms. Some old, white and thickened, others new—not quite healed. Ellen yanked her hand away, making Gentry leap to his feet and Dante tower over them both.
Ellen leaned back against the headboard, smiling.
But Jessa saw the way the woman’s gaze darted nervously around the room. She pulled her hands into her robe. But it didn’t cover her neck. And Jessa saw just as many scars there.
The pounding on the door made them all jump.
“Open the fucking door now,” Finn’s growl.
Dante opened the door. “Morning to you, too.”
But Finn was staring at Jessa, his expression almost haunted as he crossed the room and tugged her onto her feet. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“What—”