Chapter 17
Gustall
Three weeks had passed since the golf course. Three weeks in this cage that Fendwyr called protection. Protection, yeah right. He did that just to make himself feel better.
The room was luxurious, I had to admit—plush carpet, comfortable bed, even a small library. But it was still a prison, and I was still a prisoner. I hated staying in one place for long periods; it made me feel paranoid.
I pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching raindrops trace patterns on the bulletproof glass. My reflection showed how much I'd changed: dark circles under my eyes, hollow cheeks despite the carefully planned meals they brought me. The baby bump was more prominent now, a constant reminder of why I was here.
No matter what they tried doing to make me feel better here, it would never work.
"Your breakfast, sir." The daily routine began with Marcus, one of Fendwyr's most trusted men, bringing my morning meal. He was always polite, always careful, as if handling something fragile. I hated it.
I wanted him to treat me as the person I was, not as the person he thought I was.
"I'm not hungry." The morning sickness had mostly passed, but depression had taken its place. I went from bad to worse. Some days, I could barely get out of bed.
"The doctor insists you need to eat." Marcus set the tray down. "For the baby."
Always for the baby. Everything was for the baby now. Fendwyr visited daily, touching my stomach, talking about our future, and acting as if this was normal. As if keeping me locked up was an act of love rather than control. And in the meantime, I saw myself becoming like Elias more and more.
"Fine." I turned from the window, catching something odd in Marcus's movement as he arranged the plates. A small piece of paper, slipped under the napkin. My heart raced, but I kept my face neutral.
Whatever it was, it was important, and I didn't know if I was going to like it or not.
"The boss will visit after his morning meetings," Marcus informed me. "He wants to know if you need anything."
Freedom, I thought bitterly. Trust. A mate who understood the difference between love and possession, but I didn't think he would anytime soon.
"No," I said aloud. "Nothing."
Only when the door locked behind him did I reach for the napkin, fingers trembling as I unfolded the hidden note. The handwriting was elegant, familiar from that USB drive that had started all this:
"The necklace isn't what he thinks. Its power comes from trust freely given, not taken by force. Look in the book 'Ancient Bonds' on your shelf, page 394. -R"
Rodriguez. Even now, he was moving pieces on this chessboard. But why help me? What did he gain? I had no idea, but he also had his own agenda, and it couldn't end well for me.
I found the book easily—it had appeared in the library collection a few days ago. Had this been planned? How deep did Rodriguez's influence run in Fendwyr's organization?
The thought sent shivers down my spine. If he could do what I feared he was capable of, then I was in even greater danger than I already believed.
Page 394 contained a detailed illustration of the necklace, but with text I hadn't seen before. My hands shook as I read:
"The Binding Chain's power manifests only through mutual trust between true mates. Force negates its effects; control renders it dormant. Only when both parties choose to trust freely can its full potential be realized."
The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. All this time, Fendwyr's obsession with controlling the necklace's power had been ensuring it would never work. Just like his need to control me was destroying what we could have had.
But he didn't understand that, and even if presented with new information, he still wouldn't.
The baby kicked, strong and insistent. I rubbed my stomach, whispering, "I know, little one. I know. He needs to know too, but he's stubborn."
A sound at the door made me quickly hide the note and close the book. I was initially taken aback, but then I realized it was just the doctor.
He entered for my daily checkup, another part of Fendwyr's controlled routine for me. He wanted to make sure I was okay, even though he couldn't grasp the simplest truth: I needed time away from him to better reflect on everything happening in my life.
"How are you feeling today?" He asked, setting up his equipment.
"Fine." The same answer I always gave, though we both knew it was a lie. The confinement was taking its toll—my blood pressure had been elevated lately, causing concern about pre-eclampsia. And that was one of the reasons why I felt paranoid.
As he checked my vitals, I thought about the necklace's true nature. Trust freely given. How ironic that Fendwyr's attempts to possess its power were the very thing preventing him from accessing it. Just like his attempts to possess me were destroying our bond.
"Your blood pressure is still high," the doctor said with a frown. "The alpha won't be happy."
"The alpha is the cause," I muttered.
He pretended not to hear, but his expression softened slightly. "Try to rest today. Stress isn't good for the baby. I know it's difficult, but you can do it."
After he left, I returned to the window, mind racing. Rodriguez's message had to have a deeper purpose. Was he trying to help or setting up some larger scheme? And how many others in Fendwyr's organization were working with him? I had no idea, but the truth couldn't be anything good.
The baby kicked again, harder this time. I winced, remembering Elias's story. Would history repeat itself? Would the stress and confinement put my child at risk too?
No. I pressed my hand against the glass, watching another raindrop trail downward. Something had to change. If the necklace's power truly came from trust and free will, then perhaps that was the key to everything—not just the supernatural aspects, but our relationship too. It had to be and I had to be to do something. I just didn't know what yet.
And how could I make Fendwyr understand? How could I reach the mate I knew existed beneath the controlling alpha? The one who'd shared visions with me, who'd been destined for me across lifetimes?
The sound of footsteps in the hallway announced Fendwyr's approach. My heart raced as I quickly returned to the bed, sitting down just as the door opened. I had to find a way to make him understand about the necklace, about trust, about everything.
Before it was too late for all of us.
Fendwyr entered, his presence filling the room as it always did. I remained seated on the bed, one hand resting over our child. Our child. After everything that happened, it didn't feel right to remember that he was also one of the parents.
Despite everything, the baby responded to its father's proximity, kicking with greater strength. I couldn't help but think that it was a sign, but was it a good one?
"You look pale," he said, studying me with those calculating eyes. "The doctor mentioned your blood pressure... I'm worried."
"I know something about the necklace," I interrupted. No point in dancing around it anymore. "Something you need to hear, and it's important and it can't be delayed."
His expression shifted, interest warring with suspicion. "What could you possibly know about it from in here?"
I hated he didn't trust me, even now.
"It's about trust," I pressed on. "The necklace's power—it only works through mutual trust between mates. Not control. Not force. Trust, but only when it's fully given." I watched his face to find out what reaction he was going to have. "That's why you've never been able to use it properly in your past lives. That's why—"
A burst of gunfire outside cut me off. Fendwyr moved almost like a flash of light, positioning himself between me and the door. His phone buzzed with multiple alerts.
"Stay behind me," he ordered, but for once, his commanding tone carried genuine fear. Not for himself, I realized, but for us.
The door burst open. Marcus entered, but not alone. Three other men followed, all with weapons trained on Fendwyr. The betrayal was clear on their faces.
"Sorry, boss," Marcus said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "Change of management. I'm sure you're not going to take it personally."
Fendwyr's laugh was cold. "Rodriguez finally showed his hand. And you, Marcus? How long have you been his?"
"Long enough," Marcus smirked. "Long enough to see how you treat your allies. How you break them. Rodriguez offers a different way."
More gunfire echoed through the compound. I could hear fighting, screaming, chaos. This was Rodriguez's play—infiltrate from within, strike when Fendwyr was distracted by my confinement. And yet, somehow, I knew it wasn't going to work.
"Different way?" Fendwyr's voice dropped. "Like using my pregnant mate to get to me? Tell me, Marcus, how is that better?"
I saw it then—the slight shift in Fendwyr's stance, the way his hand moved incrementally toward his concealed weapon. He was going to fight, right here in this confined space, with me trapped in the middle.
"Don't," I said, surprising everyone, including myself. "This is what Rodriguez wants. Us fighting, destroying each other over control."
"Smart omega," Marcus commented. "Smarter than your alpha, apparently. Rodriguez is waiting. He'll treat you better than—"
He never finished. Fendwyr moved with supernatural speed, drawing and firing in one fluid motion. Marcus dropped, but his men responded in the same instant. The room erupted in gunfire.
Fendwyr tackled me off the bed as bullets shredded the headboard. We rolled behind a heavy dresser, his body covering mine protectively.
"Trust me," he whispered, and for the first time, it sounded like a request rather than a command.
More of Fendwyr's loyal men arrived, engaging Rodriguez's infiltrators in the hallway. The fighting was brutal, close-quarters. I could smell blood, gunpowder, and fear.
"The necklace," I gasped, clinging to him despite everything. "It's trying to tell us something. About trust, about choice. This isn't about control—it never was."
A grenade rolled into the room. Without hesitation, Fendwyr grabbed it and hurled it back through the door. The explosion rocked the building.
"I'm trying to protect you," he growled, firing at a shadow in the doorway. "Both of you."
"By keeping me prisoner? By controlling every aspect of my life?" I touched his face, forcing him to look at me. "That's not protection, Fendwyr. That's fear. Your fear, and you need to be able to do something about it."
Something changed in his eyes then. Recognition, perhaps, or understanding. But before he could respond, more of Rodriguez's men pushed into the room.
The fighting became desperate. Fendwyr was incredible—lethal and precise, commanding his loyal men through the chaos while never leaving my side. But I could see the strain, the impossible choice he faced: maintain control or trust in something deeper.
"We need to move," he said finally, as the gunfire temporarily subsided. "There's a secure route—"
"No more secure rooms," I cut him off. "No more cages. Trust me, Fendwyr. Trust us."
He stared at me for a long moment, conflict clear on his face. Then, surprisingly, he handed me his backup weapon.
"Okay. I'm going to trust you," he whispered. "But stay close."
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't even close to resolving our deeper issues. But as we moved through the compound, fighting our way past Rodriguez's men, I felt something shift between us. Each time Fendwyr let me watch his back, each time he trusted my judgment instead of simply commanding me, the bond between us strengthened.
We ended up in his office, temporarily safe behind reinforced doors. I could hear his men regaining control of the compound, pushing back Rodriguez's infiltrators.
"You were right," Fendwyr said, touching my stomach where our active child kicked furiously. "About the trust. About everything."
"Does this mean—"
"It means we need to talk," he interrupted, but gently. "About everything, but most importantly, our future. And first..." He pulled me closer, protective but not possessive. "First, we need to deal with Rodriguez. You and me together this time. I want someone I can fully trust by my side."
I nodded, understanding that there was still a lot of progress to be made. We had a long way to go—trust wasn't built in a single firefight, and old habits wouldn't die easily. But for the first time since the golf course, since my confinement, I felt a shred of hope.
Our baby kicked again, strong and insistent, as if agreeing. Maybe that's what the necklace had been trying to tell us all along. True power, true bonds, couldn't be forced or controlled.
They had to be chosen, freely and with trust.
Now we just had to figure out how to do that while surviving Rodriguez's next move.