TALIS
"Where the fuck is Keith?"
Upstairs, in my room, I glance at the locked door from my bed at the sound of Uncle Glynn's snarl.
The level of gratitude I'm feeling right now toward Maria for suggesting I come up and lie down after we'd cleaned the floors is unreal.
When some of the others started complaining, she just shrugged and said alpha had told her to make sure I was locked away.
Of course, none of them were going to risk accusing Maria of lying in case she wasn't, and Uncle Glynn found out they were questioning his orders behind his back.
So, after giving me a dark look, and Maria a long suspicious one, they returned to the football match they'd been watching in the den.
But after we got upstairs, she quietly murmured I should lie down since I looked terrible, and she'd bring up some fruit and crackers.
I could have kissed her.
Although a couple of hours have passed and I've slept for an hour, I wasn't able to eat any of the fruit, and only one of the crackers she snuck up to me.
Which is a problem.
Even though I hate to admit Uncle Glynn is right about anything, he is right about me needing to eat so I can keep up my strength, because it's not just me now.
It can't be good for me or the baby if I'm not eating and constantly throwing up. Mere days since I've been here, I feel weak and half-dazed when I'm on my feet.
So, instead of working on building up my strength in case I get an opportunity to run, every time I'm on my feet, I'm counting down the minutes until I can sit down again. No, scratch that. Lie down. Preferably somewhere soft.
The way I'm feeling, I'd be lucky to get five minutes down the road before I passed out or turned back because the need to lie down was more important than the need to escape.
Yes, it's that bad.
As I continue to lie on my bed listening to Uncle Glynn complaining about something else, or maybe still about Keith, who knows, I pick out Loren's voice and I'm not sure if she's in trouble, or if she's back to snarling at Maria.
When Loren got back, she went full throttle at Maria, and for a second, I was sure she'd hit her for lying about Abel, but before she could, Uncle Glynn was snarling at Loren to shut the fuck up before he did something about her noise.
Which means Uncle Glynn and Abel are back from their little errand.
I'm betting their little outing took them to the bank, which makes me think Dayne must have damn near bankrupted Uncle Glynn for him to be up before nine.
Since he hates being up early-even more than I do-whenever he's had to do it in the past, he has to wake everyone else up so we can all suffer along with him.
Yes, the level of his dickishness knows no bounds.
"Get Talis. She can do it," I hear Uncle snap, and then my stomach sinks.
I'm hoping, praying I'm not about to be asked to cook something since Keith will often work early shifts in the restaurant, then come to the house and make lunch.
When I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, I swing my legs off the bed and wait with a rising tension to find out what's going on and what they want me to do.
As the footsteps come closer, my stomach becomes even more unsettled since I recognize the tread.
When the padlock is unlocked and the door swings open, I'm not surprised to find Loren glaring at me. "Get up. You're cooking lunch."
With that, she turns and starts back down the stairs, not even waiting to see if I'll follow.
Fuck. Why does the universe hate me so much?
Slowly, I rise from my position on the bed as a sick feeling forms in the pit of my stomach. This time it's not because I'm about to throw up-well, at least I hope it's not-but more because of what they expect me to do.
While I'm a little better at cooking than I was before, I'm not Keith. Not even close.
No matter what I cook, it won't be good enough for Uncle Glynn, and it won't be good enough for the rest of the pack who are used to eating meals prepared by an actual chef.
Not someone with literally two weeks' worth of experience throwing together a ten ingredient casserole, and whipping up a batch of chocolate chip cookies.
Then, there's the whole matter of my nausea. I couldn't even stomach eating a peach. How the hell am I supposed to cook a meal and deal with all the smells I won't be able to avoid?
I'm walking as slowly as I can down the stairs to avoid unsettling my stomach when I hear a knock at the front door, which makes me pause.
Since I'm not sure who it is or what they want, it makes sense for me to wait to hear more before I go any further. I figure it's my self-survival instincts kicking in.
If it's good news, then great. But if it's bad, I'd rather be nearer the top of the stairs than the bottom.
I gather it's a courier or delivery driver from Loren snapping at someone to give it to her and fuck off.
Since the mailman has been to the house enough times to learn what sort of treatment to expect, he doesn't knock or ring the bell anymore. Just leaves whatever package that won't fit into the mailbox by the front door and calls it good.
I can't say I blame him. Especially with what I know is coming next.
Still, I can't help but flinch when Loren slams the door hard enough for me to worry about whether the courier was able to get out of the way in time.
Not all delivery drivers do.
"For fuck's sake, what the hell is wrong with you, Talis? Can't you even manage stairs now?" Loren snarls up the stairs, and I start moving again before she comes up and drags me down.
Like the mailman, I've had enough dealings with Loren to know what she's like, and I know she won't hesitate to come up the stairs and drag me down by my hair.
Experience counts for a lot in this house.
I'm just reaching the bottom of the stairs as Loren's stalking toward the den, where the pack spends all their time when they aren't working.
Uncle Glynn is standing in the hallway, tearing into an envelope.
Then he growls low in his throat, and I freeze with one foot down, while the other is still on the staircase.
He lifts his head, and his eyes narrow on me.
Across the hallway, we stare at each other, and the bottom falls out of my stomach.
I have no idea what was on that note, but it has set him off.
"You!" His voice trembles with rage, and I swallow, gripping tight onto the banister as his eyes flash from wolf to man. "I'll show him."
He takes a step toward me, and I don't think. I spin around and sprint up the stairs, because I've seen that look in his eyes before. I know what it means.
A world of pain.
I make it halfway up the stairs.
Between one step and the next, I'm falling.
I manage to get my hands down in time to save myself from smashing my head on the stairs, but I don't even get a second to appreciate it.
A hand locks tight around my ankle, and a violent jerk sends me flying back.
There is nothing I can do, nothing I can grab onto to stop Uncle Glynn from dragging me down the stairs. All I can do is try to protect my face and my stomach as best I can.
"Please, Uncle. Stop, please!" My cries fall on deaf ears as I fight to free myself.
Step by step, I'm dragged down the stairs to whatever fate he has in store for me, and from what I saw in his face earlier, it's going to be bad.
There's no denying it's going to be bad, because that note? Something tells me it was Dayne telling Uncle where to shove his demands.
The desperation spreading through me is enough to choke me, and my fingers scrabble over the smooth hardwood floor.
Why the fuck did I have to polish them so fucking well? I'm literally sliding down them and there's not a hope of stopping my momentum.
I start wondering what other part of me he's going to cut off next?
My hand? My foot? The thing growing inside me?
There's only one way out.
My wolf.
Please help me? Please? I need you. Please?
Tears are soaking my cheeks as I scrabble for purchase because I'm beyond desperate. I've never seen Uncle this enraged before. He looked ready to kill me.
And then I hear it. I go still to listen harder. There. The faintest snarl. The sense I'm no longer alone.
Is that you?
"Looks like we didn't send him a big enough piece. I guess we're going to have to do something about that," Uncle growls as he continues to drag me down the stairs.
I get a sudden spurt of violent rage at the thought of what he intends.
I'm not sure where I get the strength, but I flip around and with my free leg lash out. And then he's falling.
But he's not going alone, he's dragging me down with him.
Shit.
We land in a huddle at the bottom of the staircase, and I'm conscious the pack has emerged from the den to find out what's going on as I try to get to my feet.
A blow on the back of my head sends me crashing down, and crying out, I lay stunned, my head pounding. My stomach roils as I fight not to throw up.
But before I can make another attempt to get up, I'm being dragged across the floor in a direction I know all too well.
I try to grab onto something, anything to stop him, but there's nothing to grab onto.
"Get the door," Uncle snarls to someone I don't see, and panic spreads.
There's no meeting room in our basement. No colorful rugs or chairs or even a window.
The only thing in our basement are rats, cold, and mold.
It's a grave.
It's also the place I spent more time as a rebellious teenager than I spent anywhere else.
So, it comes as no surprise that the thought of being flung back in there is enough to leave me bathed in a cold sweat.
I can't go back in there. I can't. Not again. Not ever.
I'm begging, literally begging, but the dragging never stops.
I scrabble to get away, my desperation lending me strength and speed, but it isn't enough.
Someone grabs me by the back of my neck and, lifts me before hurling me into the darkness.
Into my nightmare.
I don't even have time to scream before I land at the bottom of the windowless, cold pit of a room. My head connects with the stone wall, and everything spins around me.
Then I throw up.
As I'm emptying my stomach of the single cracker I managed to force down earlier, the door slams shut, leaving me buried in darkness so black I can't see my hand in front of my face.
My dizziness gets so bad I lean my head against the wall, and then thankfully, seconds later, I pass out.