The soft click of the lock sounded again. She tensed, bracing for Jamie, but instead, it was the same quiet woman from before, carrying a fresh pile of clothes and a large, fluffy towel.
"I've drawn you a bath," the woman said, her voice gentle, almost soothing. "It's a bubble bath. I'll escort you." Her tone left no room for argument, a quiet but firm command.
Sarah stared at her, the fight draining from her momentarily. A bubble bath? In the midst of this nightmare? It was a bizarre offer, utterly out of place, yet the thought of warm water, of cleansing herself of the terror and grime of the past days, was undeniably tempting. The realization that she was still being watched, still being cared for in this strange, captive way, sent a shiver down her spine. The woman was not a jailer, but a caretaker within this gilded cage.
Resignation settled over Sarah. There was no escaping right now, not with an escort. And perhaps, a moment of peace, even forced, was exactly what she needed before her next move. The woman led Sarah to a lavish bathroom, larger than her entire apartment. A huge, claw-footed tub stood in the center, overflowing with fragrant bubbles. "Jamie will be in to watch you as I have other duties to attend to," the woman said, her voice soft but firm, before closing the door.
Sarah's brief moment of anticipation for a peaceful soak evaporated instantly. Fury flared anew. Watch her? Like an animal in a cage? She stalked over to the tub and, with deliberate defiance, stepped in, sinking into the warm, foamy water. As she leaned her head back against the rim, trying to find a moment's peace amidst the chaos, she heard a soft knock. The door opened anyway.
Jamie.
He stepped in, closing the door behind him, his presence filling the vast space. He didn't come to the tub's edge but sat down on a plush velvet stool nearby, his dark eyes fixed on her. The directness of his gaze was unnerving, yet Sarah refused to flinch.
"I have a plan, Sarah," he said, his voice low and even, cutting through the silence.
Sarah raised a skeptical eyebrow, bracing herself for another impossible demand.
"You will marry me," Jamie began, reiterating his earlier, horrifying declaration. Sarah's heart sank, but he continued, "But we will play it as if you're with David and it's David's baby. That way, I can keep my relationship with Laura." He paused, his gaze assessing her reaction. "It helps yours with her as well."
The words hung in the air, a cruel, intricate web of deceit. Marry him, but pretend the baby was David's, all to preserve his relationship with her sister. It was a lie built on a foundation of abduction, a forced marriage, and a secret child, designed to protect his "code" and his desires, with barely a thought for the wreckage it would leave in its wake for Sarah. "We will set up a dinner with Laura," Jamie continued, his voice flat and authoritative. "I'll show up with Laura, and you will show up with David. You will tell Laura you're married to David and pregnant." He paused, letting the words sink in, the cold logic of his scheme chilling her to the bone. "Tomorrow, I'd like to get the marriage over with. That's the ticket to your freedom, Sarah. You will live here, with 'David.' You can decorate your room as you see fit."
The word "freedom" echoed mockingly in the lavish bathroom. Sarah's hands balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "So how is this freedom when I have no choice and have to live here?" she demanded, her voice rising with incredulity. "You're telling me I'll be trapped in this house, pretending to be married to a man who drugged me, all while you get to play house with my sister? And I'm supposed to call that freedom?!" The sheer hypocrisy, the twisted logic of his "plan," was an insult to everything she believed in. "Yes," Jamie said, his voice cold and unwavering, cutting through Sarah's outburst. "It's the only way for us both to keep Laura in our life while dealing with this situation." His gaze held hers, an almost imperceptible pressure in his dark eyes, conveying the absolute finality of his decision. There was no room for argument, no space for her feelings.
Sarah stared at him, caught between impotent fury and a crushing sense of inevitability. His logic, as twisted as it was, presented a horrifying path that still allowed Laura to remain in her life. The alternative – revealing the truth, shattering Laura's happiness, and likely cementing her own permanent captivity or worse – seemed unthinkable. She was trapped, caught in a monstrous, impossible bind. After a long, agonizing moment, a heavy sigh escaped her.
"Fine," she said, the word a bitter admission of defeat, forced through clenched teeth.
Jamie's expression didn't change, but a subtle tension seemed to ease from his shoulders. "Perfect," he said, the word a cold, pragmatic affirmation. "I'll get Gretchen to fetch you some attire tomorrow."
"Whatever," Sarah muttered, turning her head away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. The thought of clothes, of anything mundane, felt utterly meaningless. "Can you please get out so I can get out of the tub?" she asked, her voice flat, desperate for even this small measure of privacy and control.
Jamie rose without a word. He gave her one last, unreadable look before turning and exiting the bathroom. She pushed herself up from the tub, the lukewarm water clinging to her skin like a shroud.
She toweled off mechanically, her mind a whirlwind of frantic thoughts. Tomorrow. The marriage. The lie to Laura. The thought of facing her sister, her innocent, happy sister, and spinning such a vile deception, made her stomach churn. How could she possibly look Laura in the eye and pretend this nightmare was anything but an elaborate, cruel manipulation?
She walked to the pile of pajamas Gretchen had left and pulled them on, the soft fabric doing little to soothe the turmoil within. She was trading one cage for another, disguised as "freedom." Living here, in this secluded compound, bound to a man who was both her captor and the father of her child, all while lying to the person she loved most. It was a hellish bargain, but it was the only one that seemed to offer a semblance of Laura's safety and her own continued existence outside a locked room.
Sarah collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The truth was, Jamie had cornered her. The choice wasn't between freedom and captivity, but between a public, shattering truth and a private, suffocating lie. She had to survive this, not just for herself, but for the life growing inside her, a life she still couldn't quite believe was real. The realization that she might actually be pregnant, and the overwhelming implications of that, settled deep within her. It wasn't just her life anymore.
A soft knock on the door broke Sarah's tormented thoughts. She tensed, expecting Jamie again, but when the door opened, it was David, the bartender from The Den, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
"Oh," Sarah said, a fresh wave of anger washing over her. She pushed herself up from the bed, her body rigid with resentment.
"Hi, I'm David," he offered, though his eyes held a knowing, somewhat sheepish glint.
"Yeah, I know," Sarah retorted, her voice sharp. "You're the one to blame for all of this happening." How could you, David?" The accusation was raw, direct.
David shifted his weight, his gaze dropping briefly. "I'm sorry, Sarah."
"Sorry isn't good enough, David," she snapped, her voice rising. "You fucked my life completely up."
He looked up then, a flicker of something in his eyes – genuine regret, perhaps, or just discomfort. "Well, how about some dinner? You can come down and sit with me and chat and eat."
Sarah hesitated. Her stomach grumbled, a stark reminder that, despite her rage, she was starving. The thought of eating alone in her room was unappealing, but the thought of sitting with David, the architect of her nightmare, made her blood boil. Still, the promise of a real meal, and perhaps a chance to glean more information, nudged her. "Fine," she conceded, the word clipped and unwilling.
She followed David downstairs, her anger a tangible shield around her. The house, even more impressive, lit up for the evening, felt less like a prison and more like an alien world. David led her to a large dining room where a single, long wooden table was set.
Just as they sat down, Gretchen emerged from the kitchen, two plates in hand. The aroma that wafted from them was incredible: a perfectly cooked steak, a fluffy baked potato, and a slice of cheesecake nestled invitingly on the side.
"Thank you," Sarah managed, a genuine word escaping her lips despite herself, as Gretchen placed the delicious-looking plate down in front of her. The smell alone was almost enough to make her forget, for a fleeting moment, the impossible circumstances that had led her to this table." So, are you one of them too?" Sarah asked, her voice barely a whisper as she looked at David. He had just laid out a world of hidden supernatural beings, ancient codes, and fated mates.
David nodded, a slow, solemn confirmation.
"Great," Sarah mumbled, sarcasm heavy in her tone. Another werewolf. Another person involved in this insane conspiracy.
David sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Jamie has been so busy, and all I was trying to do was loosen him up... help him relax."
"You went about it all wrong," Sarah cut in, her anger flaring again. You shouldn't meddle in people's lives. Look what you did."
"Yeah, you're right, I made a whole mess," David admitted, his voice genuinely contrite this time. "I am really sorry, Sarah."
"Assuming Jamie filled you in?" Sarah asked, referring to his knowledge of her predicament and Jamie's plan.
He nodded. "He did."
"Are the females wolves too?" Sarah asked, her gaze flicking towards the window where she'd seen the women and children earlier. Her mind was reeling with questions about this hidden world.
"Most, yes, but some are fated human mates," David explained, his voice softening slightly. "Usually when a wolf comes across his mate, they let off a unique scent, like vanilla or something sweet. "The mate is usually mesmerized by the male wolf, and they get married and have 'pups,' or babies as you would call them."
Sarah digested this, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in a horrifying pattern. Laura, the "mate" with the sweet smell. Jamie, the wolf. And her, the "anomaly," the human carrying a "pup" conceived under extraordinary, non-mate circumstances. The distinction between a fated human mate and herself, the accidental human mother, was stark and incredibly painful." So, am I going to give birth to a furry wolf?" Sarah asked, a fresh wave of horrified fascination washing over her. The image was grotesque, terrifying, and utterly surreal.
David chuckled, a light sound that seemed out of place in their grave conversation. "No. They look like normal kids. And they are, until they reach about thirteen. That's when the first shift usually happens. Then the training begins."
Sarah's mind reeled. Thirteen. A normal child for thirteen years, then... a werewolf. The implications were immense, terrifying, and strangely, undeniably real now that she was privy to their secret. Her own body was carrying a being that would one day transform, a child that belonged to a hidden world she was being forced into. The "code," the mate bond, Jamie's wolf form, and now this – it was all part of an impossible tapestry. The initial terror began to intertwine with a profound sense of bewilderment. "So, are we going to be sleeping in the same bed, or?" Sarah asked, scooping up some baked potato, her voice a careful blend of sarcasm and genuine trepidation. The thought of sharing a bed with David, the man who'd initiated this nightmare, was almost as repulsive as being forced to marry Jamie.
"No," David said softly. "This is more for the cover-up. We'll be husband and wife when we have to deal with Laura. Otherwise, we'll have our own lives and rooms."
Sarah felt a small, unexpected flicker of relief. Separate rooms. A minuscule victory in this spiraling disaster. She took another bite of potato, the rich taste doing little to soothe the bitter truth of her situation. "I never thought I'd be twenty-six, pregnant after a one-night stand after being drugged, being pushed into a loveless marriage." Her voice was flat, a weary statement of fact that hung heavy in the air between them. The absurdity, the sheer unlikelihood of it all, was almost too much to bear." Oh, and surrounded by wolves," Sarah added, the bitter irony in her voice sharp enough to cut. She speared a piece of steak, her gaze distant, fixed on a point beyond Jake, beyond the walls of this strange, hidden house. It wasn't just the pregnancy or the fake marriage; it was the total erasure of her old life, replaced by a reality steeped in myth and danger.
David's expression softened, a flicker of genuine empathy in his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice unusually gentle. That too. I know it's a lot, Sarah. "More than anyone should have to deal with." He pushed his plate aside slightly, leaning forward on the table. "I really am sorry for my part in this. "I never meant for you to get hurt, or for Jamie to get... stuck in this way." He paused, searching her face. "But Jamie's right. For the pack, for the child, this is how it has to be. And we will do everything to make sure you're safe here, and provided for. You're family now, in a way."
Sarah scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Family," she repeated, the word tasting like ash. "Seems like a pretty messed-up family reunion." Kidnapping, forced marriage, supernatural secrets..." She trailed off, shaking her head. The steak, once so appealing, now seemed to mock her with its normalcy in such an abnormal situation. "I think I'm going to go to bed," she said, pushing back her chair and standing up. "Big day tomorrow..." The words were laced with bitter irony. A forced wedding to a man who didn't want her, a lie to her sister, and a future entwined with supernatural secrets.
"Could you escort me back, please?" she asked David, a flicker of apprehension returning. Even with her defiance, the idea of walking through the unfamiliar house alone, potentially encountering others, was unsettling.
David shook his head. "Actually, you don't need escorting anymore. Jamie requested the door remained unlocked as well."
"Oh," Sarah said, surprised. The news was unexpected, a tiny concession in a sea of control. Did it mean he was starting to trust her, or was it another form of manipulation, a test? She didn't know, and frankly, she was too exhausted to decipher it.
"Well, goodnight, David," she mumbled, turning towards the door.
"Goodnight, Sarah," David replied softly, his gaze following her as she left the dining room, walking slowly back towards the grand staircase, towards a room that was no longer a locked prison, but still very much a cage.