Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
HANNAH
“Thing,” I say, keeping my voice soft because I don’t want to startle my gentle giant protector, who’s standing like a wall between me and the monster I thought I knew. “What did you mean when you said I bear his kit?”
I still can’t look at Abaddon. Can’t even think about him right now without my hand automatically going to my throat, where his fingers left invisible bruises on my trust.
God, I was such an idiot. I actually thought—
Nope. Not going there.
I’ve had my heart broken before, but this hits different. This isn’t just betrayal—it’s the shattering realization that the man I was falling for, the one I thought was learning to be better, just showed me exactly who he really is when he can’t control his emotions.
And now Thing is potentially telling me something that makes my stomach drop to the dungeon floor.
I focus on what he said instead of the trainwreck of feelings threatening to drown me. Even though I’m pretty sure I’m about to get hit by another emotional freight train.
Thing doesn’t turn around—smart move, keeping his eyes on the threat—but his voice is matter-of-fact when he explains. “Kit. Brother’s seed planted in belly. Grow now and become kit.”
The words hit me like ice water.
Oh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh SHIT.
My hands fly from my neck to my stomach, pressing against the rough fabric of this makeshift apron. “You mean I’m pregnant?” My voice cracks on the last word. “How can you even—”
“He can scent it,” comes Abaddon’s broken voice from behind Thing, and honestly? I want to punch him in his perfect monster face for interrupting this moment. “It is one of my imperfections. I cannot scent as well as my brother. Hannah-consort, I did not mean to—”
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharp as a blade. “You meant exactly what you did. Your actions spoke loud and clear.”
I still can’t look at him. If I do, I might completely lose it, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.
Is this really where my wish for a miracle brought me? To some fucked-up fairy tale where Beast actually is a beast, and I’m carrying his baby after knowing him for like five minutes?
This is not how I imagined my life going.
“Give me the keys to Thing’s chains,” I say, proud of how steady my voice sounds.
“You cannot—” Abaddon starts, and that’s when I completely lose my shit.
“You’re the only one who’s EVER hurt me in this place!” I scream, my voice echoing off these god-awful stone walls. “He’s the one who protected me! So guess what? I choose him as my protector now. Give me the damn keys!”
The echo of my words bounces around us like angry ghosts, and in the silence that follows, I can hear my heart hammering against my ribs.
Then I hear Abaddon getting up off the floor. I keep my face turned away even when he says, “I will go get them.”
The bastard actually sounds sad. Good. Maybe now he knows how it feels.
“I am sorry,” comes Romulus’s voice from his corner of eternal punishment. “He will not know how to ask for forgiveness.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that right now,” I snap, because I’m so done with making excuses for grown-ass men who can’t handle their trauma without hurting other people.
“No,” Thing agrees, his voice like gravel. “No forgive.”
“I said I don’t care!” I’m fighting back tears that want to turn into full-blown sobs, and I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood rather than let either of these monsters see me cry.
Abaddon returns way too quickly with a ring of keys that look like they belong in a medieval torture museum. The clanking sound they make feels obscene in this horrible place.
“Please take them from him,” I tell Thing, still refusing to look at the male who just proved that everything good I thought about him was wishful thinking. “I’ll free you, and we can find you a better place upstairs. Somewhere with actual light and fresh air, like a civilized being deserves.”
Thing rumbles his agreement, and I watch Romulus’s tail whip forward with surprising grace. The keys dangle from the leathery tip like some twisted Christmas ornament.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Romulus, hating how shaky my voice sounds. I hate that Abaddon gets to see how much he’s broken me.
The locks are absolute monsters: huge, brutal things that look like they were designed to break spirits as much as contain bodies. It takes both my hands and all my strength to work the first key, my fingers clumsy with anger and shock.
Pregnant. I’m pregnant.
The thought keeps hitting me in waves as I work. Each lock that clicks open feels like a small victory against the nightmare my life has become.
Thing shakes each freed limb, testing his range of motion like he can’t quite believe it’s real. When I finally kneel at his feet to unlock the last shackles, I look up into those red eyes and whisper, “Please don’t attack him once you’re free.”
I’m probably being just as stupid trusting Thing as I was trusting Abaddon. Maybe he’s just playing me to get loose. But you know what? I’m done judging people by what they look like on the outside, because the pretty monster behind me just showed me that appearances mean exactly nothing.
Usually, I pride myself on reading people. I sensed Abaddon’s trauma and volatility from day one, but I thought—
God, I’m such an idiot.
I thought I could help him heal. I thought what we had was special. I thought he was different.
But Thing? Despite everything he’s been through, despite being chained in this hellhole for who knows how long, I sense something genuine in him. Something protective and kind that hasn’t been tortured out of him yet.
My hand drifts to my stomach again as the last shackle falls to the dungeon floor with a sound like breaking chains.
A baby. I’m going to have a baby.
And I have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m going to do about any of this.
Before I can spiral further into panic mode, I’m suddenly swept off my feet. My eyes snap open, ready to tell Abaddon exactly where he can shove his apologies—
But it’s Thing. His middle arms lift me easily while his powerful legs carry us toward the door and freedom. For the first time since this nightmare started, I feel genuinely safe.
“Thing!” Abaddon calls out, and I feel Thing’s whole body tense as he turns to face his brother.
“What?” Thing barks, and I can hear centuries of pain in that single word.
There’s a pause that stretches like a held breath. Then: “Thank you, brother.”
Thing makes a sound that might be an acknowledgment or might be a dismissal. Either way, he carries me out of that dungeon and up toward the light, and for the first time since I arrived in this cursed place, I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, I might survive this after all.
Even if I have to do it without the monster I thought I was falling in love with.