Wren nodded her head and bit the inside of her cheek. “Yes.”
The alphas cuffed her and led her back to the dreadful house. Once inside her room, the men retrieved plates of food, cups of liquids, and fruit. Then, they cuffed her a second time to a chain lock. She wasn’t their prisoner, but they couldn’t have her walking into the city. It was, as they told her, for her own good.
“Eat,” Killian said.
Setting the plates in front of her bedding, the men sat and watched intently. Wren’s stomach shifted. She hadn’t been vomiting lately, but she still didn’t feel used to the strict regimen of eating for four.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, flexing her tongue.
Lucas fisted a piece of egg and presented it to her lips. “Eat.”
Reluctantly, Wren parted her mouth to let the egg prop against her front teeth. She bit down and chewed, grimacing the entire time. “Disgusting,” she whispered.
“She’s still not herself,” Vash groaned.
Wren’s eyes flashed with wrath. “I know who I am!” she screamed and reached for him. Luckily, her chains held her back. She fell, deeply exhausted.
“Just be good,” Killian said.
“I want out of these chains,” Wren whined.
The clicking from the clock on the wall’s hands sent shivers down Wren’s spine. “It’s not time for your walk,” Vash said.
Wren would cry, had she any tears left. Pregnancy was a nightmare. Unable to make any decisions, she felt lost again. Yes, once she had the children, she could be free. But they had to stay hidden from Cassian for her nesting period. That was the only rule.
Nothing was safe or sacred. The revelations Wren experienced were constantly undermined. Though the alphas tended to her with love and care, she could not even sit to go to the bathroom without them collecting a sample.
“I won’t leave the house,” she whispered. “I’ll stay in the room. Just let me be free.”
The men gave a look to each other. “You won’t run?” Vash asked.
Wren shook her head and exhaled. “No. I am yours, alphas.”
“We’ll see.”
The men turned and walked out of the room, locking the heavy door behind them. Glancing at the plates of unappetizing food, she felt her salivary glands swell against her tongue. Her stomach soon followed.
Exhumed from within her gut, chunks of thick liquid and mucus sprung out of her like a fire hydrant. She thought the sickness was over. She was weak, and her body must have weighed as much as a truck. Swollen and alert, she closed her eyes and lightly placed her palms across her rounded belly.
She was going to be a mother. A good mother. If she failed at everything else, she would not fail at that.
But as Wren lay nicely tucked into her bedding, she couldn’t imagine bringing three innocent children into a world as heinous as hers. Even if Cassian and his slave traders were decimated, she’d never see a less painful landscape.
Days passed, and Wren calendared the time as best she could. When she saw a new sun, she would scratch the angle of her nail into her belly. Swiveling for minutes, she waited until she felt the flesh break into wet. After each mark healed, she was left with a calendar of scars across her stomach.
She was getting closer. Only a few more weeks.
She was constantly in a state of flux. The molecules in her body bent for the others inside her womb. Alpha to alpha. Cell to cell. She would not let herself whine about her incessant emotions and triggers that seemed to come out of nowhere. She would simply hold on for the ride.
Not much later, the men eased the door open. They gathered the plates and placed a small tub next to her bedding. “Your bath,” Vash said.
“Thank you,” Wren said.
Killian ran a hose into the plastic container and released the water valve. Vash lathered a sponge silently.
“We need to discuss something,” Lucas said, eyeing him.
Wren eyed the flowing, steamy water. It seemed to calm her nerves. “What would that be?”