Chapter 157
Kara
My fingers trembled as they closed around the pregnancy test Viktor had tossed at me like I was some lab rat. The casual cruelty of it made me want to scream—that something so intimate, so life-changing, was just another tool to determine my value as a hostage.
Boots on concrete stairs. Viktor's massive silhouette filled the doorway as he descended with that predator's grace. His scent—vodka, machine oil, and something darker that spoke of violence without hesitation—rolled over me like a physical force. I hated how my body instinctively tried to curl smaller even as my mind screamed to stand tall.
"Well?" His voice was flat, emotionless. The tone of someone who'd asked this question a thousand times before and never cared about the answer. "Boss needs confirmation. You give result, or I take test myself."
My fingers tightened reflexively around the plastic stick. A surge of protective fury cut through the fear— mine, my choice, my body, my potential child —and before I could stop myself, I was moving. I flung the test toward the drain with every ounce of strength my weakened muscles could muster. The white plastic bounced once, twice, then skittered toward the dark opening where I prayed the building's plumbing would swallow it whole.
"Stupid bitch." The words came out conversational, but the explosion of his Alpha pheromones was anything but. A tsunami of aggression and dominance that would have driven any normal wolf to their knees, the vodka-and-oil scent turning sharp enough to choke on. "You think you can play games? You think Boss doesn't have ways to find out?"
I couldn't breathe past the overwhelming pressure of his scent pressing down on every nerve ending like invisible hands trying to force compliance. The suppression collar meant I couldn't even summon my own wolf's defenses, couldn't push back with the Luna pheromones that should have been my birthright. I was exposed and vulnerable in a way that made my skin crawl with remembered helplessness—every moment of childhood abuse, every time I'd been powerless against bigger, stronger wolves who'd decided I was nothing.
But I was done being nothing. Done being the scared little girl who swallowed her screams.
"You want to know the truth?" The words ripped out in a voice that cracked and trembled but didn't break. I braced my hands against the freezing floor and forced myself to look up at him. "Fine. Here's your fucking truth—I've been sick, throwing up, locked in this freezing hellhole you call a safe house, and you want me to piss on a stick and smile about it? You want me to make this easy for you?"
Something flickered in his cold eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or the faintest hint of respect from a man who'd probably forgotten what that felt like. His hand moved to the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt, and I caught fragments of rapid Russian— "Target possibly pregnant... need medical personnel... prepare transfer protocol..."
Target possibly pregnant. Need medical personnel. Prepare transfer protocol.
Transfer. They were going to move me, take me somewhere even more hidden, somewhere my mates would never find me. The knowledge settled like ice in my stomach, colder than the concrete, heavier than the collar.
"You lie to me," Viktor said quietly, turning back with that emotionless mask in place, "you regret being alive. Understand?"
I understood. God help me, I understood perfectly—that this was just the beginning, that whatever Konstantin wanted was worth keeping me breathing but not safe, and the difference between those two states was a chasm I might not survive.
The door clanged shut behind him with finality, the locks sliding home one by one like nails in a coffin. I was alone again with the test I'd tried to destroy, with the question I couldn't escape.
The mate bond flickered weakly in my chest, that connection to Asher, Blake, and Cole that should have been a blazing sun but felt more like distant stars through the collar's interference. I reached for it anyway, throwing every ounce of will I possessed into the attempt— southwest, Evergreen Heights, ten miles, I'm here, please find me —but the collar's magic was too strong, reducing my desperate message to barely a whisper in a hurricane of static.
Please, I begged silently, tears finally spilling hot against my frozen cheeks as I clutched that test like a lifeline. Please let them feel this. Please let them know I'm trying to tell them where I am.
---
Blake
The room Dmitri led us to was exactly what I'd expected from a man running an underground gambling operation as a front for Eclipse Court business—dark wood paneling, old incense mixing with something metallic that made my wolf's hackles rise, ancient totems carved into walls alongside symbols I didn't recognize but instinctively distrusted. Black candles flickered in wall sconces, and the air felt heavy , like the weight of too many secrets compressed into too small a space.
"Sit," Dmitri gestured to a pair of leather chairs, but I remained standing, every muscle coiled tight.
He's going to test us, Asher's mental voice was ice-sharp. Everything he says will be calculated. Don't let him see how desperate we are.
Too late, I shot back. My scent was probably screaming desperation loud enough for Dmitri to taste it, the sour edge of fear for Kara mixing with rage at everyone who'd put her in danger—myself included, myself especially .
"Before we talk," Dmitri's gravelly voice cut through my spiral, his pale blue eyes sharp despite the shabby appearance, "you understand I can hear your mind link, yes? The three of you, talking in your heads. Very loud, like shouting in empty room."
I went absolutely still. Through the link, I felt Asher's shock mirror my own, Cole's sharp intake of breath as we all realized simultaneously that every strategy we'd discussed, every doubt we'd shared, every moment of vulnerability—this stranger had been listening to it all.
"How the fuck—"
"Eclipse Court gift," he said simply. "We call it Moon Speech. Can feel... resonance, yes? When wolves talk in their heads, especially strong bonds like yours. Not words exactly, but emotion, intention, truth or lies." His smile was thin. "Very useful for knowing when someone bullshits me."
Christ, Cole breathed. He's a living lie detector. Everything we're thinking, everything we're feeling—
Then we use it, Asher cut in, his strategist's mind already adapting. If he can sense truth, he'll know we're not lying about Kara. He'll know exactly how serious we are.
"Blake was just thinking," Dmitri continued conversationally, settling into his chair, "that I might be Konstantin's spy. Asher reminds him to watch every word. Cole is writing down everything I say in his mind." That pale gaze fixed on me. "All true. Also true—you love her very much, your Kara. Love and guilt, twisted together like rope. You hurt her for many years, and now you would burn world to get her back."
The accuracy stole my breath. I stood there with fists clenched and my wolf snarling just beneath my skin because how dare this stranger see into the ugliest parts of me, the parts I could barely stand to look at myself—
"Sit down, Blake Sterling." There was something almost gentle in his tone now, like he understood what it cost me to be seen so completely. "We have much to discuss, and you standing there vibrating with murder helps no one. Especially not your pregnant mate."
He believes the lie, Asher noted. Or he's pretending to. Either way, use it.
I forced myself to move, to drop into the chair even though every instinct screamed to stay on my feet, stay ready to fight. "You said you're Kara's grandfather," I bit out. "Prove it. Tell me something only family would know."
Dmitri's expression shifted, something raw and painful flickering across those weathered features. "Celeste had birthmark," he said quietly. "Small crescent moon, right shoulder blade. Used to tell her it meant she was blessed by goddess, destined for great things." His voice cracked. "She believed me. Trusted her papa to keep her safe from darkness. I failed."
That's... specific, Cole murmured. But we can't verify without—
We don't need to verify, I interrupted. Something in Dmitri's scent, in the genuine grief that rolled off him in waves, told me he was speaking truth. He's not lying. He really is her grandfather.