Chapter 83
Chapter Eighty-Three
ONE WEEK LATER
~Harlow~
My life is nothing but repetition, except for this week, when I have the ultrasound. The doctor came here to the Den. That was my breaking point, when I lost all hope that Thane is ever going to come to his senses and let me out of here.
He told me about the ultrasound last week. I was so excited to be leaving the Den; I was almost bouncing on my feet as I waited by the stairs for him to come get me. Only when the door opened did I realize he was bringing the ultrasound to me.
The doctor uses a portable device, and I try to tune out what he says to Thane. I no longer care. This is not my baby; I am merely its incubator. He’s made that perfectly clear.
“Have you booked her in for regular midwife appointments?” the doctor asks him. I pretend not to listen, staring at the screen full of moving limbs. A stupid smile on my face as I watch my growing bump from a new perspective. One that makes the movements inside of me so much more real.
“No, she will be birthing at home; Raidon’s parents will help with the delivery,” Thane tells him, and my head turns to look at him.
He expects me to give birth in the Den? With a woman who has made it very clear she wants me dead as soon as the baby is born? What about pain relief? What if something goes wrong?
“Oh, well, she is in competent hands then. Do you want to know the gender?” he asks Thane, who nods his head. The doctor moves the device around, pressing harder and making me want to pee, before he declares, “It’s a girl!”
The doctor is beaming happily. Thane huffs, but I don’t miss the ghost of a smile on his lips. I am surprised at his excitement. Most Alphas want boys to carry on their name.
“Okay, you have her birth plan sorted, but what about afterward? Harlow will need a six-week check-up after delivery. Or will Elaine handle that too?’
“We are unsure as of yet. If not, the rotation facility may handle it,” Thane tells him. The doctor’s brows furrow in confusion, and my head turns to stare at Thane in horror.
“Mr. Keller?” he asks, glancing down at the mark on my neck. It doesn’t go unnoticed that the doctor never once addresses me. This is typical with Omegas; the doctors always speak to their Alpha, not them. This is hierarchy at its finest.
“Once the baby is born, we will be rejecting her, and she can either go into rotation or face the consequences of her actions,” Thane says, looking at me pointedly. I don’t know which option is worse—death or being forced into rotation.
“Her actions?” the doctor asks, glancing down at me suddenly, as if I am some crazed criminal.
“That is none of your concern, Doc. Pack business, and I am free to do as I please with my Omega,” Thane says, while I just blink at how insensitive he is being.
I am the mother of his child, and those are the only two options he is offering me?
I shake the thoughts away, my arms wrapping instinctively around my belly.
I listened to them argue and fight all week. Rhen and Thane fight constantly now.
I spend the vast majority of the day asleep. I wake up around lunchtime to the sound of the door opening. When I see it’s just a sandwich and fruit, I turn away, not bothering to climb the steps.
Thane is no longer forcing me to eat the same thing every day.
Raidon, I know, convinced him that I need more than what he was feeding me.
I need a larger variety of foods. Yet I can’t be bothered with climbing the stairs to eat the bland, tasteless crap he serves me today.
I will lose my mind if I have to eat one more damn apple.
Any fruit other than apples, but I am sick of apples.
I return to my Den and drift back to sleep.
Later that afternoon, I wander over to a window.
I drag a chair over and try to peek out.
I try in vain to open it, but it doesn’t budge.
With one last heave, I growl, becoming angry, and I punch it.
To my astonishment, the glass cracks. I stare at my bleeding hand for a second before looking at the fractured window.
Adrenaline pumps through me at the thought of escape, and I punch it again.
I don’t even feel when it cuts into my hand, but I do feel the breeze outside as the glass continues to break.
Now I just need to find a way to climb up high enough to squeeze through it. It will be a tight fit, extremely tight with how large my belly has gotten, and I hope I don’t get stuck. I probably won’t escape unscathed, but my freedom is right on the other side of this busted window.
Looking around, I grab whatever I can to get myself as high as possible.
Breaking the window is one thing, but I don’t have the strength to lift myself up and through it.
With blood dripping everywhere, I stack cushions and boxes on top of the chair.
I get that little bit closer until finally, I dare to climb up. I am still shocked that I broke it!
I have been trying to smash, break, and open it for weeks. Nothing I did worked. Yet, in a moment of pure frustration, I did it. Maybe the window felt sorry for me and my pathetic attempts from earlier.
Trying to balance on the stack of crap I piled on the chair, I have to turn my head sideways to fit it through the tight gap.
Gripping the sides of the window frame, I pull myself through.
The glass digs into my hands as I try to heave my body through the small opening.
I hiss in pain as glass shards, still stuck in the frame, slice through my back.
As I hang from the window, my head, arms, and chest outside in the cool afternoon breeze, I discover another issue: how do I get my stomach through?
My skin is tight, and my belly is bulging.
Kicking my legs, I manage to twist on my side and grip the top of the tiny window frame. Glass tears through my sides and hips as I force myself through the window. Once I’m out, I peer down at my body to ensure I didn’t cut anything vital.
I’m free!
My skin is slippery as I brush my hands over my legs and hips to get rid of any remaining glass. My skin is slick with the warmth of my blood. Yet my belly is unscathed. Glancing around, I can hear the gardener mowing the lawn on the other side of the house.
I can’t run down the long driveway; it’s too exposed and I would be spotted easily. In my state, someone will definitely call the authorities, who would only drag me back here.
So instead, I step out past the wall and peek around the corner, only to stop dead in my tracks.
Thane is standing in front of me, looking extremely angry with his arms folded across this chest. I pivot to run in the opposite direction, only to find Rhen walking up from the other side of the mansion, with Raidon close behind him.
I was so sure they were at work.
“Harlow,” Leon breathes, coming up behind Thane. His disappointment is loud and clear through the bond. But what did he expect me to do? What are the chances of finally breaking a window the moment they are due home?
I couldn’t have waited. They would have noticed the broken window, which makes me wonder if Thane was watching me through the camera the whole time. Thane waves for me to come to him. I shake my head. He growls as I give a wistful glance to the forest on the edge of their property.
“Think about it, Harlow. You can’t speak unless asked a question. You have no money, no place to go, and no way to get there even if you did,” Thane tells me. Tears burn my eyes at his words, knowing he’s right.
“I should make you go back in the same way you got out,” Thane tells me. I press my lips in a line glancing over my shoulder at the broken window. There’s shattered glass all over.
“So, what will it be?” Thane asks.
Instead of answering, I turn back to the window. Rhen’s shriek of panic and Thane’s fear rattle through the bond as I move toward the window. Going in will be a lot worse than crawling out. Hands grab my hips as I bend down, but I’m not going for the window frame.
No, I want the massive shard of glass I saw. My fingers wrap around it just as I am yanked backward by Thane. I struggle in his grip as he snarls, turning me around. Aiming for his chest, I stab him.
I stare at the glass protruding from him in shock as blood begins to soak his shirt.