Page 36 of The Alpha Under My Bed

The plug.

Still there.

Still filling me.

My stomach curled in on itself, dread twisting sharp and deep in my gut. My thighs squeezed together on instinct, but the pressure did nothing to ease the reality of it—the way mybody clenched around something firm, unyielding, deliberately placed.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. I should have been used to it by now.

It had been days.

Days of waking up like this. Days of shifting under my blankets, only to be met with that same dull fullness, that same cool press of metal locked tight around my waist.

A chastity belt.

Afuckingchastity belt.

A sick wave of nausea rose in my throat, but I forced it back down. I couldn’t do this again. I couldn’t spiral.

Not yet.

I needed one second—just one fucking second—to pretend like I still had control over something.

I forced myself to exhale, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest, the softness of my nest, the familiar scent of my own space. The things that should have made me feel safe but only reminded me that safety had been a lie.

Then, just as my pulse started to settle, my phone buzzed.

I flinched.

The sound was too sharp, too real, slicing through the heavy fog in my head like a blade. My stomach turned over, panic twisting tight beneath my ribs, because I already knew.

I already knew.

My fingers trembled as I reached for my phone, barely able to swipe at the screen, my vision too blurry, my thoughts too tangled.

I forced my eyes to focus.

Unknown Number: Baby, you’re doing too much.

Unknown Number: Take it easy today.

My breath caught in my throat.

Every hair on my body stood on end, my skin breaking into a cold sweat even as my nest felt too hot, too suffocating.

No.

No, no, no.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers tightening around my phone like I could crush the words out of existence, like I could unsee them if I just willed it hard enough.

But the nausea didn’t pass.

Because this was real.

He was real.

And he was watching me.

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