"Cynthia." Adam sets me down on the bed, taking off his jacket and covering me with it.
I don't respond, unable to speak. My hands are trembling when he takes them in his.
"Cynthia."
I look at him, but my mouth feels dry. My heart feels like it will burst out of my chest it's pounding so hard. The reality of what was about to happen to me is finally sinking in. The tears that fall from my eyes are useless, but I can't stop them. They drip down one after the other, but not a sound escapes me.
Adam takes me into his arms, worry and fear written all over his face. "You're fine. You're okay. I've got you. Nothing was going to happen to you. I was coming for you."
His lips press against my forehead, his arms tight around me. Perhaps that's what lets my body relax, or maybe it's that Adam would have saved me.
"N-Norman," I finally manage to utter, "took off my clothes. He tied me up. His friends were going to…"
The words get stuck in my throat.
"He was going to let his friends… to me. He––"
Adam strokes the strands of hair away from my face, his voice gentle. "I'll bring you his head."
I realize that he means it when he gets to his feet, his claws unsheathed, and begins striding towards the door.
"No!" I dart toward him, stumbling on my injured ankle and nearly crashing face-first onto the floor. He catches me before I can, though.
"Sit back down," he orders. "I'll be back."
"You're not going!" I raise my voice at him, fear for him pushing my own trauma aside. "He's got at least ten people with him! He'll kill you!"
"I'm not that easy to take in a fight," Adam says, his voice dark. "Stay here."
"No!" I dig my claws into his shirt. "Stop being an idiot and think your brain! He wants you dead. Don't help him do it! I'll be fine! I will." I repeat the last words, mostly for myself. "I'll be okay." I wet my lips. "I need some clothes, something to wear, please."
Adam studies me. "Fine. I won't leave."
He steps into the other room of the suite to make a call, and I stare down at my injured foot.
Jonathon sent me to Adam to turn me into a weakness. He intended me to give birth to a child, most likely to Adam's child.
A slow seed of doubt forms within me. Did Jonathon know that Adam and I are fated mates? Maya told me that female shifters can only get pregnant if they're mated. So, to get a child out of me he'd have to get me mated to someone. What if Jonathon had planned to get me mated to Adam and use the child that came from us against his son? His own grandchild would be a slave.
I pull the jacket around me even closer. I don't know why, but the more I think about it, the more likely this is beginning to seem. Why else would he send me to Adam's office like this? He must have known something, otherwise sending me was a very random choice. My brain hurts as I try to sort all this through my head.
But what I do know for sure is that Jonathon manipulated me. He never intended to give me my freedom. It was all a lie. His plans for me were worse than anything I could have imagined. Now, where does this leave me? My eyes are fixed on the ground. I attacked Norman. Jonathon is not going to let me off the hook for this. The terror growing within me is so vicious that it's hard to draw in air. I can't even think of what he'll do to me. I'll hyperventilate if I think about it.
There's no place to hide.
I have to make sure Adam becomes the alpha. I have to place all my bets on him. He'll release me from my blood debt. I'm sure he will. I have evidence of it. If I show it to him, maybe he'll release me and then I can leave. He and Tina can be together, and I'll just go somewhere. I'll travel, leave this city, and breathe for the first time. I may not get Adam, but I'll get my freedom. I can live with that.
My eyes burn.
I want to be free so badly I can taste it on my tongue.
I have to tell Adam what Jonathon has planned for him. I have to do something.
The door opens, and I look up to see Robert step in.
"Y-You?" I stammer, grabbing the jacket tighter around me. "What're you doing here?"
Just then, Adam steps out. As soon as he sees Robert, he strides over, grabs a blanket, and wraps me in it, his lips bared in a snarl.