Page 22 of Seen Knot Heard

Oh, Grady. How can you be dead?

Tears roll down my cheeks, and I settle onto my side on the carpet, curling into a ball as I grieve.

I barely sleep that night, tossing and turning until the pale light of dawn filters through the curtains. I rise and pace around the room.

Will he really leave me alone until my Heat begins? I lift my collar, trying to detect the sweetness he claimed was there, but I’m immune to my own pheromones.

The lock clicks, and the door thunks against the dresser. Someone shoves harder, sliding the furniture out of the way. Afraid that Louie has come for me, I back myself into the corner. But it’s only the guard and the maid with my breakfast.

While she sets the tray on the small table, the guard drags the dresser from the room, taking away even that small chance at protection.

Once they leave, I walk on shaky legs to investigate the plate of food. Dismay fills me at the sparse meal of plain toast and a small apple.

Is this what Louie meant by punishment? Does he plan to starve me into submission?

Lunch hour comes and goes without the maid’s return, and hunger claws at my stomach. Is he trying to revert me back to the half-dead Omega he first met? The girl so desperate for help that she reached for him?

I shudder at the memory, wrapping myself tighter in the blankets as if they can shield me from his schemes.

No matter what he tries, I will never be that weak again.

The days drag by in a blur of hunger, boredom, and simmering rage. With each passing hour, my hatred for Louie intensifies, fanned by the gnawing emptiness in my belly and the knowledge of my helplessness.

Between meager meals, when the maid takes my glass away, I drink water from the sink faucet to ease the ache of emptiness. With nothing else to do, I sleep to conserve my energy.

At first, I ignore the symptoms of my approaching Heat, the insistent need to adjust the pillows just so, the fidgety anxiety that I have nothing from my Alphas to build a proper nest. I dismiss the signs as a manifestation of my discomfort and stress.

On the fourth day, the truth can be denied no more. I wake to a fever spreading through my body, the comforter itchy against my skin. When I push it off and try to stand, dizziness hits without warning. I collapse back onto the bed, panting as warmth pools between my thighs.

Whimpering, I hug a pillow to my chest, willing the heat to subside. In a few hours, my pheromones will be strong enough to slip under the bedroom door, seeking to lure an Alpha to me.

Louie will come to take what he wants, and I’ll be so out of my mind with need that I won’t care that I hate him.

No, not now. Not like this. Panic surges through me as I stare at the door, expecting it to open any second, for the wrong Alpha to step inside.

Licking my parched lips, I fumble with my cast, tugging free the bottle of stolen suppressants. My hands shake as I struggle with the cap, and it pops off without warning, spilling pills onto the white sheets.

I pluck one up and crunch it between my teeth. These are the emergency ones, designed to be fast-acting. They’ll stop what’s happening.

As the minutes tick by, though, the fever only grows.

I scoop up more, weighing the tiny blue pills in my hand. There’s the risk of an overdose, but I fear embracing Louie during my Heat, of being permanently Marked as his even more.

I toss back a handful, chewing them into a paste and choking on them. The chemical flavor makes me gag, but I hold it down.

A bitter taste coats my mouth, but the pills work their magic, and the fever recedes.

I exhale a shaky breath, tears of relief pooling in my eyes.

A shiver wracks through me, and I fumble to pull the blanket over my body as my temperature continues to drop.

Oh, no.

I don’t want to die here, not without seeing my Alphas again.

My arms shake as I push myself out of the bed, tumbling to the floor, pills spilling around me.

Cold spreads through my veins, turning my limbs to lead, and I collapse to the carpet. If I don’t pull through this, at least Louie didn’t win.