Page 24 of Sinful Embers

Her gaze flicks to mine—just for a second—before she quickly looks away and hurries out.

I exhale sharply. Well, that was useless.

The masked man snorts. "You know what to do with the trolley." His gaze rakes over me in a way that makes my skin crawl before he turns and slams the door shut behind him.

Good fucking riddance.

Now alone, I take a deep breath, forcing my frayed nerves to settle.Panicking won’t get me anywhere.

My stomach growls again, and I move toward the trolley, lifting the cover off the dishes.

Jesus.

The food is not what I expected. It’s well-prepared, rich in aroma—like something out of a high-end restaurant. If not for the accommodations, it could almost feel like room service at an upscale hotel.

Almost.

I eat slowly, taking in my surroundings. They’re keeping me well-fed. Why?

Shouldn’t they be starving me, using hunger as leverage to break me down?Unless…

A sharp spike of paranoia jolts through me. Do they know?

Radomir’s voice echoes in my head.You and the baby will become a target.

The thought makes my blood run cold. Is that what this is really about? Not me—but a potential baby?

My breathing turns shallow.Not a fucking chance.

I glance at my stomach, forcing my thoughts to slow.You don’t even know if you’re pregnant yet.There are still twelve days before I can be sure.

There’s no way they could possibly know.

But Timir’s voice whispers in my mind:We’ve been watching you for a long time, Leigh.

I set my fork down, my pulse thundering.No. This is insane. Too far-fetched.

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. What, do they have spies in every pharmacy? Tracking my period like some fucking ovulation cult?

But then, an unsettling memory surfaces.

Two years ago.

The drugstore Sabrina and I had gone to since we were teenagers suddenly had new owners.

New owners who always had our monthly order ready before we even asked for it.

No. No way.

I shake my head. I’m being ridiculous. Everything would have had to align perfectly for them to use me as some kind of breeder.

Still…

I stare at my empty plate, my stomach twisting.

I need to take my mind off this.My eyes land on the stack of journals, but a deep nausea churns inside me at the thought of reading anything Vivienne wrote.

Not yet.

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