Chapter 3 Invalid
INVALID
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Hatred ran thicker than the blood in my veins. A black tar-like sludge painfully seeped its way through the cracks of my system, making me ache for more than just retribution.
I was owed suffering, remorse, and deep fulfilling penance for the little life growing inside of me. They didn’t deserve to be born into this, and yet, here we were anyway. Because our lives were never our own.
Now that acceptance had come and gone, all that was left was my rage. I took it out on so many punching bags, destroying them with my training knives and kicking the sand right out of them.
Sloane had watched fondly from a safe distance while Carla complained about having to order replacement bags.
It was difficult to cool my anger around Darren, and my passive-aggressive attitude was less pleasing to him, exhausting his tolerance of it much faster than usual. He thought I was still mad about the pregnancy, and I was, but Darren was mistaken in my fury.
I had expected him to get me pregnant at some point, or at least try to. What I stupidly hadn’t expected was that he would keep it a fucking secret from me.
I expected he would be forthright with it like everything else he’d ever forced onto me. At least then I would know when it was coming and could prepare for it. But I’d been robbed of that too. For his alleged convenience.
I sat against the windowsill of my gym, my eyes trained on the view outside, and flipped one of my practice throwing knives in my hand.
Darren kept my butterfly knife after I had stabbed him with it, but I was still allowed to train with the ones in my gym so long as I left them there.
Sloane had to pat me down every time I left the room just to make sure.
Watching the glint of the blade, it had dulled after all the times I’d used it to destroy my punching bags, but it was still sharp enough to stab a certain motherfucker.
Camaro lay at my feet, no longer interested in the toy she’d been chewing on for the last twenty minutes.
I felt bad that I hadn’t played with her much in the past couple of days.
The most I did was angrily throw her ball as far as I could, aiming for a tree that I pretended was Darren.
At least the asshole had finally released me from the bed after convincing him that I had accepted what was.
Ever since the sham “celebratory dinner” for my pregnancy two weeks ago, things had felt extra tense lately with everyone in the house. Whatever problem Scott had announced then must have been one hell of a problem for it to affect the house this much.
And it seemed like the whole world might be aware of it since Sloane made sure I wasn’t able to access any public TV like I had before.
Naturally, no one would tell me anything, but when Darren came home that night, he was nothing short of an absolute beast.
He fucked me for what felt like hours, with such animalistic and possessive intensity that I could tell he was making some kind of metaphorical statement to himself. Except this time, it appeared to be more for his benefit than mine. Like he was trying to convince himself of something.
But he never seemed satisfied, and I had to beg him to finally let me sleep because he kept fucking me awake. When the sun finally rose, I could barely walk properly, my legs were so damn wobbly.
Since then, I hadn’t seen him much. Sometimes it felt like he had been gone for days, which I was grateful for since I needed the extra space from him to continue my cooldown period.
What was odder still wasn’t so much of Darren’s deception. It wasn’t like it was out of character for him, but what truly had me hurting inside was Sid.
I knew where his loyalty stood, but over the years, his demeanor around me seemed to change, and sometimes I really did feel like he had my best interests at heart. But clearly, I was wrong.
The man stood there and let me believe that I was getting a brand-new birth control implant and was safe from a forced pregnancy. For now. But he played along with Darren’s deception, and it left me so disappointed.
I shouldn’t be because Darren probably would have killed him if he went against his orders, but still, a subtle warning would have been nice.
At least my nausea was finally starting to subside, but it seemed like I had traded one symptom for another. My breasts were starting to actually hurt a lot, the soreness much more intense than PMS.
Every time I took my bra off, it felt like two ten-pound weights were hanging from my chest, and they nearly looked like it too. I had officially gone up in cup size, so much so that I had to have Carla order me new ones.
My workouts had taken the biggest hit since I could now no longer perform any crazy tumbling or balancing upside down. There was no more contact sparring, and I had been reduced to drills only.
Fancy flying kicks were a no-go, and I couldn’t push myself on the weights anymore.
I had to remain with the same weight amount and could no longer increase it, which was a huge bummer since I had been training with ten-pound wrist and ankle weights.
I wanted to move up to fifteen, but that apparently wasn’t happening anymore.
The training technique had allowed me to strike so much faster than ever before, and with the added muscle gained, my hits were harder too.
But fucking hell was it tiring. Exhaustion would creep up on me much sooner than before, and it pissed me off to no end.
Especially because I was feeling it right now.
The doors to my gym suddenly opened, and Sloane walked in with an easy expression on her face.
“There you are,” she said as she marched toward me.
“I thought I would find you here.” Where the fuck else would I be?
It was the only place I was left completely alone.
Sloane eyed the knife as I continued to flip it in the air, a look of concern on her face.
“Have you worked out your anger for the day?” she asked expectantly.
The only reason I was ever not angry was because I was too damn tired to be.
“Nope.”
Sloane sighed as she placed her hands in her pockets, resigning herself to my current state of mind. She’d been relatively easygoing with me, much less annoying than Clive and Owen had ever been. She seemed to take her job much more seriously than they had.
She maintained a wider distance, spoke rarely, and when she did, it wasn’t some bullshit meant to rile me up. She even helped me hide from Carla when I couldn’t stand to be around her anymore. But the most important factor was that Camaro seemed to like her.
“How did your weekly meeting with my dickhead husband go? You were gone much longer than usual,” I asked, my eyes watching the guards pace along the grounds outside.
She coughed quietly and ran her hands through her dirty blond hair that fell over her brow. “He warned me about your expected behavior changes after your first ultrasound.”
Fury clutched at my chest, tightening itself around my badly broken and bruised heart. “Did he now…”
I was surprised she revealed his thoughts since I wasn’t privy to the contents of those weekly meetings with him. Maybe it was part of his strategy—keep me aware of his behavioral expectations so I can work to please him instead. But he was right to worry.
I was dreading the ultrasound. Sid informed us the device he had procured wasn’t working properly and was commissioned to be fixed. So whenever it was finally available, I’d be forced to witness the little creation of Darren’s deception.
While I had already accepted the subjugation of enforced motherhood, I had yet to develop the motherly instincts and love for the technical parasite currently growing inside me.
“He anticipates you’ll become more combative,” Sloane confessed.
I shrugged at that. “He’s probably right.”
Sloane frowned as she stared down at me. “Wouldn’t you rather prove him wrong?” she asked, cocking a brow.
I scoffed. “And disappoint him? Oh, I could never.”
She paused for a moment, probably realizing that her job was about to become much more difficult. Keeping me in line had never been easy for anyone.
But to be honest, I wasn’t really planning on being that combative. Mostly really, really fucking annoying. I was going to exploit the fuck out of every single pregnancy symptom until Darren couldn’t stand to be around me.
He wasn’t the only one experienced with psychological warfare.
The sudden piercing sound of a short scream quickly muffled caught my attention, the unmistakable noise of an ensuing struggle quickly following. I bolted from my perch, bursting through the double doors of my gym in search of the scream.
“Jaden, wait!” Sloane called from behind me, Camaro’s bark echoing in the hallway.
The sound was coming from behind a door just down the hall. Bursting through the door, I found an unfamiliar guard holding Katherine by the throat with his other hand over her mouth.
With my throwing knife still in hand, I flipped it and threw it hard at the guard, the tip piercing deep into his upper thigh. He immediately released her, but by the time he did, I had already advanced and kicked the knife in even deeper.
“Jaden, stop!” Sloane called as she hauled me away from the guard, pulling me behind her while she trained her gun directly at him. “What the fuck are you doing?” she yelled at him.
He groaned as he ripped the knife from his leg, his eyes shooting daggers at Katherine as she clutched her throat in panic. Observing her closely, I noticed that her shirt had been ripped open at the top, exposing her white lace bra underneath.
“Katherine, are you okay?” I asked her, Sloane still clutching me tightly behind her body while Camaro growled at my side.
“I’m okay,” she gasped, her voice clearly strained as she pulled the remnants of her shirt back together.
The guard stumbled slightly, straining with the knife still in his hand and glared at all of us.