Chapter 122

The days were short yet passed in slow misery. Trapped in the Troy pack manor on the third floor with guards posted everywhere to keep her from escaping, Beth was a canary imprisoned in a gilded cage, never allowed a moment alone even to bathe. Andrew Troy pretended it was to pamper her by assigning her female attendants to attend to her every need, but she knew better. Much better.

He even had the gal to visit her as if she were just some guest being entertained in his home. How dare he have the fucking nerve? She was a prisoner, and yet when he knocked on her door and let himself in, he was all charming smiles and gentlemanly manners. Except how he never explicitly waited until she gave him permission to enter, but maybe that was because she flatly refused to give it. After five seconds of waiting, he came in, ready or not, and it made her want to punch him in the gut for it all the more.

She was fed and well-taken care of, granted, like a captured exotic animal kept for private viewing. Expensive food that wasn't in season came up to her three times a day at minimum, with the staff always offering more every hour as if she were a starving waif.

But that, too, was just part of the vigilant routine. They were making sure she had few opportunities to plot and plan in isolation, always interrupting her and finding excuses to enter her room. Beth had tried several times to twist makeshift ropes out of the drapes and curtains, but that had failed miserably and only gotten them to keep an even closer eye on her.

Damn them! Damn them all! But damn Andrew Troy in particular, and when she had her chance, she was going to pay him back every ounce of humiliation, frustration, and fury.

Too bad that all she could do now was brood in her bedroom-prison, mulling over all the possible ways she might be able to engineer her jailbreak. The plush sheets and bed, the soft lights, the beautiful clothes the staff kept shoving into her closet as if she really had the urge to play dress-up -- none of it mattered. She needed to focus and figure out a way to get free.

And then the knock came. Again.

Beth's gaze hardened into a glare as it moved to the bedroom door. That damn knocking. It was Andrew with his distinctive rap-tap. She hated how she could identify him by such a noise, distinguishing him from everyone else who passed through her room daily.

And this time too she did not answer when Andrew Troy's voice filtered through the door.

"Elizabeth Rokley, I hope you're doing well. I've come to pay a visit."

Come to pay a visit -- if he ever let down his guard, he would find that he would pay something else, and dearly.

Beth squeezed her knee from the chair upon which she sat, forcing herself to calm. Andrew was coming in no matter what she said, but she could control the way she presented herself. The more on guard and hostile her behavior was, the more stringent her imprisonment would become. She had to get him to think she was harmless, or at least make him underestimate her.

The door opened, and she sat stiffly in the chair with her eyes fixed upon Andrew's emerging figure. There he was with that damnable smile, but she refused to answer it with one of her own. It would be suspicious to be so agreeable anyway.

"Elizabeth," he greeted, so infuriatingly warm and friendly. "You have more color in your face today, I'm glad. The cold snap that hit us left all of us a little chilly, but I've had the Deltas making sure the heat is circulating better now. Were you more comfortable this morning than you were yesterday?"

Ugh. As if she would answer such a stupid question. More comfortable, as if. He knew exactly how ridiculous he sounded; he just didn't care.

But that wasn't out of the ordinary. Andrew so did enjoy talking to himself when he couldn't make Beth reciprocate his pathetic attempts at drawing her into conversation.

She stared at him in the silence. When she spoke at last, it was not to answer his question but to ask one of her own, the same one she had asked every single time Andrew dared to show his face.

"When will I be leaving?"

"I'm very sorry, Elizabeth, but circumstances are such that you cannot for the foreseeable future.

And as always, the same answer. Damn him. Damn him to hell and back.

"But I do believe you'll be pleased to hear that tonight will be a delicate serving of lamb for the main dinner course. We also have strawberries and pomegranates, fresh from the greenhouses. You would swear they're in season if you have a taste. How often did you consume greenhouse produce back home, Elizabeth?"

Oh, great. This again. He was going to try to force more conversation. Well, he could try. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing an answer, but she wouldn't let him enjoy the ego trip of making her avert her eyes, either. Beth's stare was flat and granite-hard as she continued to stare at him, not even bothering to try to seem gracious.

If he wanted gracious, he shouldn't have kidnapped her parents and then her, once she was in his grasp. But he had, so all she had for him in return was enmity. Enmity and hatred, though it froze over with frigid wintry winds rather than running hot and impatient.

After all, against someone cunning like Andrew Troy, she needed to be slower to act, cleverer and cautious.

"You must want to rest a little more this morning," he said finally when he failed to eke any further speech out of her on the fifth attempt. "I'll be sure to stop in this afternoon. Have a pleasant rest, Elizabeth."

It took all her willpower not to fling her shoe at his back as he left.

***

Another morning. Another fitful night of sleep... and for the fourth morning in a row, Beth stumbled out of bed and raced for the bathroom so she could retch into the toilet.

For half an hour, she tried in vain to empty the contents of her stomach, but she had gone without dinner last night, so there was little to bring up. Even so, it felt like it lasted an eternity, and by the time it was possibly safe enough to stand up again, her legs were asleep and her thighs ached.

She rinsed her mouth and washed up while she was in the bathroom, pushing away the immediate suspicion that rose in her mind. No. She refused to believe it. This was the worst time for something like that to happen, and she was not going to let a little scare take her off-balance.

Even if her period was late and this was eerily similar to the morning sickness she had suffered when she had been pregnant with Caroline. Even if Beth was becoming more and certain that her body was giving her undeniable signs of budding life. Even if, damn it, she was supposed to be worrying about how to get free, not how to protect an unborn child that had been growing in her belly for the last several weeks!

She covered her eyes, willing herself to calm down. This was not the end of the world. This was not even the end of her day. She just had to figure out a plan to get to Daniel. She had to find a way to reunite with him and tell him he was going to be a father, and that they were going to be a family.

In the middle of all this chaos and terror, this one bright light... So fragile. So small.

She would protect it with her life.

From within the Troy pack manor, for some reason she couldn't mind-link properly, and there was no way to get in contact with Daniel even if he was right outside if things kept going like this. She was going to have to take charge and crash her way out if that was what it came to.

Because like hell was she going to stay a prisoner while a baby grew in her belly. Like hell was she going to let Andrew take these weeks and months from her, the ones she and her unborn child should be sharing in peace with its father.

Beth had overcome before. She had survived everything that came her way, and here she stood on the precipice once again. And she was not going to fall.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror, expression hard.

She was not letting that asshole win. Ever.