Chapter 4

Cherry 

The moon is beginning to wane. My heat starts to come back on as the wolfsbane wears off, making me throb with need. We're only a few days away from the climax, which typically occurs during the full moon and lasts for roughly five days. Although my hands are still restrained behind me, my body is itching to be caressed.

He stole me, and even though I ought to be upset and shouldn't be feeling this way, all I can think about is Jack.

The way he caressed me when he was concerned that I may get wounded on the boat, his green eyes looking into mine, and his hold on my arm. I roll around in the sheets chasing pleasure while the recollection of his hands on me sears like a brand.

Just something to keep me entertained tonight. He only needs to be that.

I close my eyes and don't think about the painful rope burns on my wrists or how damp my garments still are. Every touch is Jack, whether it be in the water, rolling, or drifting wildflowers. As I enjoy the final traces of the full moon, I gave in to this peculiar yearning despite knowing nothing about him other than his name and the color of his eyes.

I eventually went to sleep.

The world I wake up in is not my home, even if I was born here.

The community center does not have a hot breakfast ready for patrons.

Silence and low murmurs.

There is no Omega Bathhouse where we are secure and alone. No friendly words, no tea with Lissa, no accompanying Thiba to her weekly exam at the clinic.

This location is icy, bare, and damaged.

My arms hurt, and my body is trembling as I lie motionless on the cot. This is not my cup of tea. I'm not courageous, strong, or tough.

In Texas, I was gathering flowers from a field, and now I'm here. Alone…afraid.

When I heard someone ascending the metal stairs, I sat up and focused on the door. Even if I wanted to escape and hide, there is nowhere to do so, which triggers my prey instincts. I should be able to handle everything; I should be stronger than this.

My father and brother arrive at the door as the door swings wide, with Henry hiding behind Arthur like his petty servant.

The same as it was when I departed.

"Good," says Arthur.  

"You're awake."

 "What do you want?" I say. My voice is so faint that I can hardly hear myself when I ask.

"To ensure that you are fed, clothed, and taken care of". Arthur frowns." After all, it's my responsibility as a father".

I'm not sure how to reply. I can't say anything because I'm too afraid, even though I know he's lying. Not here, not on the Rig, I don't have a voice.

"Please let me go," I beg.

"Not just yet, Elsa," he responds. Bring her here, Henry."

By passing Arthur, Henry grabs my arm and helps me stand up. My body is still shaking so terribly when Henry grabs me that I almost fall over. I'm dirty and still trembling. The fact that he resembles me so much makes it worse as his freckled face glares down at me.

Being here annoys me. These folks infuriate me. I detest them, I detest them…

"Get her downstairs," Arthur commands. 

"We must prepare her."

"Prepared for what? "I inquire as I stutter past my dad.

He says nothing at all. He simply observes and chuckles. Henry almost takes me back down the stairs to the sitting room where I last saw my father's friends. As we pass the hearth, the fire is still crackling, and the heat from the flames is making my skin itch. Off to the side is another chamber, a lavish bathroom that makes me think of the swimming pools in the Austin den at home. I get thrown inside by Henry.

"Clean her," he commands.

A timid voice, emanating from a woman I didn't even see standing in the corner, emerges from my right. Her pale blue eyes darted around as though she were terrified that someone might emerge from the shadows. She is petite with short dark hair. The answer is "Yes, my lord."

What…? Did she just call him that?

Arthur never allows his mates to call his sons names like that

"If she raises any trouble, I'll be waiting outside," Henry mutters.

He then closes the door after himself.

I wait for her to direct me while I cast a broad gaze at the woman. She is roughly my age, in her early twenties, and has a somewhat bloated stomach. I have to assume that she is carrying my sibling if she is pregnant. Thinking about these women being imprisoned here and knowing it's my fault they're treated so badly makes my stomach turn. I ought to have stayed. It wasn't worth the penalty.

She circles behind me and starts working with the ropes at my wrist, carefully untying them. If it weren't for the fact that she was releasing my ties, I wouldn't even be aware that she was there because she hardly makes any noise.

I mumble, "Hello." 

"Cherry here". 

"Tell me your name".

She takes a brief moment to reflect before continuing to unravel the rope's knots.

"You may call me Two," she replies.

It feels like a gut punch. Even their names are blank. Even that was appropriated from these omegas.

"Who are you?" I ask.

No response.

Without ever looking at me, she circles in front of me and runs a bath in a large clawfoot tub on the opposite side of the room. With nothing covering her body other than what appears to be a white sheet, Two simply stares at the flowing water. When I see what she is wearing around her neck, my guilt only grows. I initially mistook it for a necklace, but now I see that it is actually a thin leather band with a silver loop wrapped around one side.

A collar.

"I'm sorry".

She is still not responding.

As I tell my old life farewell, I slip out of my trousers and sweater and throw them in a stack by the door. Even my favorite pink sweater, which I found in an old department shop, I don't think I'll ever see those garments again. I give it a quick glance and permit Austin to enter my mind. I then approach the bathtub.

I had to put my pack away for the time being.

Attempt to survive right now.

Two assist me in entering the soap-filled, wonderfully warm bath. I breathe out as I sink into the water and let it reach my nose. Two suddenly reach out and, with her eyes wide open, gently raises me.

She warns, "Don't breathe in the water." 

Her hand is in mine. "It's alright", I say. "I'm only trying to clean up,"

"We almost lost someone that way," she responds. Her voice still sounds raspy, as though she is having trouble breathing.

a person lost that way?

"I'm not trying to hurt myself," I reassure her.

"Don't worry about me."

I guess my father's wives are willing to take the required precautions when there is no other way out.

I wash myself off and plunge my head back into the water, wishing I could wash away the memories of the previous two days—or even of doing this at all. All of this would not be taking place if I had simply stayed closer to the lair and maintained greater security. I'd be back at home, swimming in the pool with Lissa and Thiba, having breakfast with Philip and Justin, talking with Paul about poetry, and taking stock with him. I'd be secure.

I briefly cry into the water while bending my head to the side. I want Two to be unconcerned. She extends a towel to me as I exit once I'm finished. She appears determined to handle everything, perhaps because Henry instructed her to keep an eye on me, even if I could handle it myself.

 In this windowless room, there isn't someplace to run, and I'm not going to hurt Two to do it. She hands me the towel, which I use to dry off my hair before encircling myself and waiting for further directions. She grabs something from a chair next to the bathtub and offers it to me.

"You're to wear this", She instructs. I take it and scowl as I inspect the turquoise fabric. It's hard enough to conceal my curves—certainly not enough to be more than a slip of fabric. I scan from Two to the garment in search of further justification.

 "You wrap it like this." She says

I blush as I blushingly let my towel fall to the ground as she takes the cloth and makes a gesture toward it. My face is flushed scarlet from my incapacity to take care of myself, and I feel like a child getting dressed by my mother. Two knots the cloth with a thread at my waist and my right thigh after draping it over my shoulder. All over my body, it rips huge holes, exposing pale, freckled skin. Once more, I reach for the towel, but Two stops me by shaking her head.

"No use," she remarks. For the ceremony tonight, you must wear this.

"The ceremony?" I ask." Please explain "

"Your dad..." Two sputters out, biting her lip. A few whiles later, with her eyes glistening with unshed tears, she takes my hand. She replies, "I can't, I'm sorry."

Henry is immediately visible on the other side of the door when she rapidly backs away and advances toward it. When he sees how I'm dressed, he gives me a disgusted-looking ugly glare and turns away.

 "Elsa, come here," he calls out

I advance like the weak, foolish girl I am.

"Back to your room," he commands. "You won't do anything; just wait there until the ceremony starts."

What ceremony?