Alpha’s Possession By Jessica Hall Chapter 83
Alpha’s Possession By Jessica Hall Chapter 83
5 Weeks Later.
My life became nothing but repetition, and I was growing extremely bored and angry with Thane’s sick and twisted games. This week, I did have an ultrasound. The Doctor had come here to the Den. That was my breaking point, and I lost all hope that Thane was going to come to his senses and let me out of here.
He told me last week, I was having an ultrasound. I was so excited to be leaving the Den; 1 was almost bouncing on my feet as I waited by the stairs for him to come to get me. Only when the door opened did I realize he was bringing the ultrasound to me.
The Doctor used a portable device, and I tried to tune out what he spoke about with Thane. No longer caring. This was not my baby; I was merely its incubator. He made that much clear.
“Have you booked her in for regular midwife appointments?” the Doctor had asked him. I pretended not to listen, instead staring at the screen full of moving limbs. A stupid smile on my face as I watched my growing bump from a new angle. One that made the movement inside of me more real.
“No, she will be birthing at home; Raidon’s parents will help with the delivery.” Thane told him, and my head turned to look at him.
He expected me to give birth in the Den? And beside a woman who hated me just as much as he does? What about pain relief, or what if something goes wrong?
“Oh, well, she is in competent hands then. Do you want to know the gender?” he asks Thane, and he nods his head. The Doctor moves the device around, pressing harder and making me want to pee before he declares. “It’s a Girl,” Doc tells him, beaming happily. Thane huffs excitedly, and I don’t miss
the ghost of a smile on his lips. However, I am surprised he was excited because it is a girl. Most Alphas want boys to carry on the name.
“Okay, since you have her birth plan sorted, what about afterward? Harlow will need her Six–week check-up, or will Elaine handle that too?’
“We are unsure yet. If not, the rotation facility may handle it,” Thane tells him. The Doctor’s brows furrowed in confusion and my head turned in horror to stare at him.
“Mr. Keller?” he asks, glancing down at my mate’s mark on my neck. It didn’t go unmissed how the Doctor never once addressed or asked me. This was typical with Omegas; the doctors always answered their Alpha, not them. This was 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 for her actions,” Thane says, looking at me pointedly. I suddenly didn’t know which option was worse-death or being forced into rotation.
“Her actions?” Doc asks, glancing down at me as if I am some crazed criminal suddenly.
“That is none of your concern, Doc. Pack business, I am free to do as I please with my Omega,” Thane says while I just blink at how insensitive he was being. I am the mother of his child, and those were the only two options I was being offered.
I shake the memory away, my arms wrapping instinctively around my belly. I had listened to them arguing and fighting all week. Rhen and Thane fought constantly. I listened to their footsteps above me. And now I listened to that breaking silence that came with them being at work. I spent the vast majority of the day sleeping. Yet when I woke up after lunch to the sound of the door opening, I sat up. Walking to the stairs, I find my sandwich and fruit and turn away, not bothering to climb the steps.
Thane was no longer forcing me to eat the same things daily. Raidon, I knew, convinced him I needed more than what he was feeding me and a larger variety of foods. Yet I couldn’t be bothered climbing the stairs to eat the bland, tasteless crap he served me today. I would lose my mind if I had to eat one more damn apple. Any fruit other than apples, I was sick of apples.
Wandering over to the window, I tried to peek out it. I tried in vain to open it after dragging a chair over to it. With one last heave, I growl, become angry, and punch it. To my astonishment, it broke. I stare at my bleeding hand for a second before looking at the fractured glass. Adrenaline pumps through me at the thought of escape, and I punch it again. I don’t even feel it when it cuts my hand, but I feel the breeze outside as the window breaks.
Now I just need to find a way to climb up high enough to try to squeeze through it. It would be a tight fit, extremely tight, and I hoped I didn’t get stuck. I definitely wasn’t coming out unscathed, but my freedom was right on the other side of the busted window.
Looking around, I found whatever I could to make myself as high as possible; hitting the window was one thing, but having the strength to lift myself through it was impossible. With blood dripping everywhere, I stacked cushions and boxes on top of the chair; I got that little bit closer until finally, I was daring enough to try to climb up on it. I was still shocked that I had broken it
I had been trying to smash, break, and open it for weeks. Nothing I did worked, yet a moment of pure frustration did. Maybe the window felt sorry for me and my pathetic attempts to open it.
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 dug into my hands as I tried to heave my body through. I hiss in pain as glass shards stuck in the frame slice through my back. Yet as I hung from the window, my head, arms, and chest outside in the cool afternoon breeze, I had another issue: how do I get my stomach through? My skin was tight, and my belly was bulging already
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 hip. As I force myself through the window, I peer down, ensuring I didn’t cut anything vital.
My skin was slippery as I brushed my hands over my legs and hips to brush off any remaining glass, my skin slick with the warmth of my blood. Yet my belly was unscathed. Glancing around, I could hear the mower man doing the lawns on the other side of the house.
I couldn’t run down the long driveway; I would be too exposed and spotted. And in my state, someone would definitely ring authorities who would only drag me back here.
So instead, I step out past the wall and peek around the corner to stop dead in my tracks when find Thane standing on the grass, looking extremely angry with his arms folded. I pivot to run in the opposite direction, only to find Rhen walking up from the other side of the mansion. Raidon walks out behind him.
I was so sure they were at work. “Harlow.” Leon breathes, coming up behind Thane, his disappointment loud and clear through the bond. But what did he expect me to do? What were the chances of breaking the window when they were due home?
Yet I couldn’t have waited. They would have noticed the broken window instantly, which made me wonder if he was watching the camera when I broke it-Thane waves for me to come to him. I shake my head, and he growls as I give a wistful glance at the forest edge.
“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 burned my eyes at his words, knowing he was right.
“I should make you go back in the same way you got out,” Thane tells me, and I press my lips in a line glancing over my shoulder at the broken window. Glass was shattered on the © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.
grass.
“So what will it be?” Thane asks. Instead of answering, I walk back to the window. Rhen’s shriek of panic and Thane’s fear rattled through the bond as I moved toward the window
and bent down. Going back in would be worse than crawling out. Hands grab my hips as I bend down, yet I wasn’t about to go in the way I came out.
No, I wanted the massive shard of glass I noticed. 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 stabbed him.
I stare at the glass protruding from him in shock as blood began to soak his shirt