Chapter 44
After the Grand Patriarch’s terrifying announcement about the fate of my life, he’d calmly set the tray of food aside and left.
His second-in-command—the big man who’d kidnapped me from the parking lot—entered the room. Calvin held up leather and iron shackles attached to chains. He undid the brown strap around one ankle and even though I tried to kick his face, all he did was laugh and catch my small foot in his hand before shackling me. He made short work of the other one.
There were no shackles for my wrists, not that they were needed. I wasn’t going anywhere with iron around my ankles.
I nearly collapsed to the floor when I got off the exam table. Calvin caught me and all but dragged me to another room. A room with a cot, a single window, a wood stove chimney, and two old-fashioned chamber pots and a wash basin with some toiletries.
“I’m pregnant,” I pointed out. “I need a bathroom and?—”
“Take it up with the Grand Patriarch,” he quipped.
I snarled at him and ripped my arm from his grasp.
“I like it when women fight,” he taunted. “So much more rewarding when they finally break. And you will break.”
He stared at me for a moment after making that declaration and then he left, locking the door behind him.
I sat down on the cot and gripped the edges of the mattress, wondering how I was going to get out of this mess.
I had no light in the room except for what came through the window. I attempted to lift my legs, but they were heavy because of the chains, so I had to use my arms to raise them. One after the other, I got them onto the bed. I even managed to elevate an ankle to my thigh so I could examine the iron shackles.
If I could find something long and thin, there was a chance I’d be able to pick the locks and free myself.
And then what?
I shut that line of thought down. I didn’t need to think that far in advance. The first order of business was finding something to help me remove the shackles.
The room was bare, devoid of anything useful.
I wondered if the Grand Patriarch was going to keep me locked in this room for the entirety of my pregnancy.
Swallowing, I shoved that thought away, too. I’d managed to escape once.
I’d have to do it again.
I would do it again.
My legs were heavy as I set them on the floor. My steps were slow, but I combed every inch of the room. I ran my hand along the windowsill, hoping for a loose nail that I could pry up. But there was nothing.
I got down on all fours and peered underneath the cot. I moved the chamber pots out of the way and grazed my hand along the wooden floorboards that were in desperate need of a refinish.
My palm caught on something.
A raised nail that was sticking slightly out of a plank.
I immediately attempted to grab it and yank it from the floor, but I didn’t have enough strength.
Dejected, I pulled my hand back and sat on the floor.
If only I had something to leverage against it . . .
My eyes dropped to the iron chains between my legs.
Was it possible?
I heard the tromp of footsteps on the stairs and hastily scrambled up. I was standing by the time the door opened.
The Grand Matriarch held a tray in her hands, and she paused when she saw me. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled up into a tight bun. Her gaze dipped down my body, resting on the slight swell of my stomach.
“You need to eat,” she said in way of greeting. “For the babies.”
“For the babies,” I said snidely.
“If it were up to me, I’d let you starve,” she said, her eyes glazed with pain. “You took my son from me. It seems only fitting that I take your children from you.”
Any sympathy I had for the Grand Matriarch withered inside me and died in that moment.
“Do you know what your husband and son were planning?” I didn’t give her a chance to reply. “They were plotting to kill me because I wasn’t pregnant?—”
“ Lies ,” she spat. “You never loved my son. You weren’t a good wife to him, no matter how much I tried teaching you. But that’s what happens when my husband decided to let outsiders join us. If you’d been born here, you would’ve known your duty from birth. You always had too much . . . spirit.”
“And your goal is to beat the spirit out of us, isn’t it?” I demanded. “Your son tried that . . . several times.”
She slapped me across the face. The sound of her palm hitting my skin echoed in the room. “Clearly he didn’t try hard enough. You never should’ve left us. The world isn’t safe for a Reaper.”
I laughed through my watering eyes and stinging cheek. “And you think it’s safe here? Have you spoken to your husband? Do you know what he plans to do with you?” When she didn’t reply, I stated, “Your husband plans on taking me as his new wife. You know what that means for you, don’t you?”
“I have been the wife of the Grand Patriarch for thirty years,” she sneered. “He protects me, he cares for me, I gave him a son. A son you took from me!”
“I feel sad for you. Sad that you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”
I turned away from her to stare out the window.
“Don’t expect your savage biker to come rescue you. If by some miracle he isn’t dead already, he won’t come for you. You’re not worth the trouble.”
She strode from the room and slammed the door shut behind her.
The light was dying. It would be dark soon.
After I ate my meal, which was bland yet filling, I curled up onto the bed and waited for night to fall. Though it was dark, there was enough light from the moon shining through the window that I could see inside the room.
At some point, someone returned to fetch the empty tray. I heard the snick of the lock and waited for the footsteps to retreat.
When I was sure no one was loitering outside my door, I got up. I grimaced when the sound of chains hit the wooden floor. I expected to hear footsteps coming to investigate, but it was quiet. I lowered myself to my hands and knees and used the chain between my legs to catch the nail sticking out of the wooden plank. I leveraged the chain and attempted to pry the nail loose. I lost my hold on it and the chain clunked against the floor. My frustration grew with every setback, and I thought about moving the cot to make access to the nail easier, but if someone came to check on me, I wouldn’t be able to get the cot back into place quickly enough.
I worked tirelessly even as my fingers went numb, but eventually the nail wiggled far enough out of the wood that I could remove it.
A cry of triumph nearly escaped my lips, but by some miracle, I managed to keep it in. I began to try and pick the lock on my shackles with the nail.
My mind finally slowed down enough to think about Savage. The Grand Matriarch knew what Calvin had done to him and she’d taunted me with it.
Fear spiraled through my stomach.
She didn’t know Savage like I knew him.
Even injured, Savage would be relentless. But what if there were no miracles? What if Savage was dead?
That line of thought brought tears to my eyes, but I hastily brushed them away. I couldn’t lose my focus. I couldn’t tumble into a fog of grief like I’d done after my parents’ deaths. I needed to stay alert, determined.
I’d get to safety and then I could fall apart. But not before then.
I worked through the night, my mind turning sluggish as the hours went by. After a while, I wasn’t even paying attention to what I was doing, but then I heard a click.
Holding my breath, I pulled at the shackle on my ankle, and it came apart.
It had taken me hours to pick the lock. I didn’t have time to pick the other. Dawn’s early light painted the sky purple.
Knowing the Grand Patriarch, he’d send someone to check on me before full daylight. I hastily clamped the shackle back around my ankle, but this time it would remain unlocked. I lifted the fitted sheet off the mattress and shoved the nail into the corner of the bed stuffing before securing the sheet over it to conceal it again.
The nausea started and I was retching into one of the chamber pots as a key slid into the lock.
I didn’t even bother to look when the door opened.
“You’re sick,” the Grand Patriarch commented as he came across the threshold.
“It’s called morning sickness.” I sat up awkwardly and wiped my mouth.
“Glorious,” he murmured. “Did you sleep well?”
“Hard to sleep in a prison.”
His expression flattened. “I’d hoped a night back with your family would change your attitude.”
“You’re not my family. None of you are my family.”
“We are your family,” he countered. “When your parents joined the Seed Reapers, we became your family. You married my son. We are bonded. Forever.”
“Family loves and cares for each other. You want me to produce offspring. I’m just a broodmare to you.”
His gaze narrowed. “And you think those heathens are your family?”
“Yes,” I said automatically. “They’re my family.”
“And where are they? Have they come for you?” His grin was smug. “You’re with us now, where you belong. You have nothing to do but rest. Rest and grow ripe.”
His eyes slid to my belly. He stepped forward and reached a hand out to touch me.
I batted him away.
He clenched his hands into fists and rage swept across his face.
“Just like your son,” I murmured. “You hate being denied.”
My words landed. He opened his hand and slapped me hard across the cheek. The pain was instantaneous and my eyes watered.
“You get to choose how you want me to treat you, Evie. You can either cooperate and bite your tongue, or I can make things very unpleasant for you.”
I pointed to the shackles around my ankles. “More unpleasant than this?”
“If you think this is unpleasant, you’re in for a rude awakening.”
I began to laugh which only made him angrier. “You’re so deluded.”
My laughter turned maniacal. He’d already told me my fate—a fate worse than death.
My brain was on the fritz.
“The chamber pot,” he stated.
“What about it?”
“I need to see it.”
“What? Why? You just saw me throw up in it.”
“Not that one. The other one,” he insisted. “I need to know if you’re getting enough fluid.”
The Grand Patriarch didn’t wait for my reply. He crouched down and reached for the chamber pot that was underneath the cot.
He looked into it and shook his head. “You need more liquids.”
“Tell that to your wife. She’s in charge of feeding me, isn’t she?”
He clenched his jaw. “Breakfast will be up shortly. You will eat every bite.”
The Grand Patriarch marched toward the door and when his hand was on the knob, I spoke.
“You told me they weren’t my family.”
He froze but didn’t turn around to look at me.
“You said they wouldn’t come for me. I don’t believe that, and neither do you.” I moved my legs, the chains clinking together, reminding us both of my position. “You better hope he’s dead. Because if he’s not, you’re going to find out why he’s named Savage.”
I grinned when he slammed the door behind him.