Page 77 of Broken-Hearted

I make my way down the back stairs used by the servants Adrian keeps, apologizing when I round a corner and bump into a woman walking down the stairs with a heavy-looking tray of dishes.

“Sorry.” I catch a large white bowl before it can fall and hand it back to her. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

I wasn’t paying attention to anything but the need to escape.

Startled, wide dark-green eyes meet mine for a second, then dart away again. “It’s fine.”

“I’m Clara,” I say.

“Jude.” She does a double take. “You’re Adrian’s new mate.”

“Not exactly,” I hedge. “Do you need help?”

She frowns, clearly reluctant.

“Adrian has a meeting, and I wanted to go for a short walk. I don’t mind.” Before she can stop me, I grab three bowls from the tray and walk down the stairs. “These are going to the kitchen, right?”

After a beat, she follows, “Yes. But you shouldn’t be helping me.”

“I don’t mind.”

The stairs lead directly to the kitchen, a wide open space with thick, heavy-looking wooden counters. I thought this pack was big, given they live in a house the size of a mansion, but I have noidea how many people there are here. I’ve eaten all my meals in my bedroom since my arrival, pretending I was too exhausted to eat in the dining room with everyone else..

The two men and three women who stop their task to stare at me must be servants. They’re all wearing light brown clothes, and all are submissive or lower ranked from their refusal to look me in the eye as they mumble something and dart out of the room.

“I guess I’m not supposed to be here,” I say as the kitchen door slams shut behind them.

“No.” The woman from the stairs takes the empty bowls from me and places them on the nearest counter. “They could get into trouble.”

“For talking to me?”

“Yes. Adrian is possessive.”

Yeah, I got that.

“Any reason why?” I tiptoe over to the kitchen door, open it a crack, then muffle a curse when I spot three enforcers lingering in the hallway. Getting past them won’t be an option.

I scan the kitchen, searching for a window big enough to crawl out of. There isn’t one. We must be on a lower, below ground floor.

Jude lowers her voice. “His father was crazy.”

I snap my gaze toward her. “Crazy?”

She nods. “His mother was an omega. We all thought he only mated with her so he wouldn’t go crazy too.”

I stare at her as it suddenly becomes all too clear why Adrian wanted me.

To stave off a craziness which might be genetic.

“This is not good, Clara,” I breathe. “This is not good at all.”

Jude is watching me closely. “He abducted you, didn’t he?”

Footsteps and shouting from outside the kitchen yank my focus back to what’s important.

The enforcer upstairs must have returned to my room with a needle kit or a seamstress, found me gone, and went to tell Adrian. Because, unless I’m mistaken, that sounds an awful lot like?—

The door swings open, and Adrian fills the doorway, frowning.

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