My fingers tighten around the phone 165

Aria’s POV
I furrowed my brow, something feeling off about this situation. If this meeting was truly important, David should have
been the one to inform me directly.
“Did you clear this with David first? Why hasn’t he contacted me about it?” I asked. These days, caution wasn’t just for me
anymore.
The guard nodded quickly, his posture just a little too stiff. “Of course, ma’am. I was told Old Alpha took a turn for the worse. Both David and Alpha Ethan had to rush to the hospital, so there wasn’t time for them to notify you personally.”
I pulled out my phone and checked the screen. No missed calls or messages from Ethan. He’d been unusually quiet
today, which aligned with what the guard was saying. His father’s condition had been deteriorating rapidly over the past
few weeks, constantly being rushed in and out of intensive care. My heart ached thinking about what Ethan must be
going through right now.
“Alright,” I said with a reluctant nod. “I don’t have much time, so let’s go.”
My hand moved in small, soothing circles over my belly as we walked. The twins responded with gentle kicks that both
comforted and distracted me. Eight months pregnant and feeling every ounce of it, each step was becoming more of a
challenge. The hallways seemed longer than I remembered.
When we reached the detention area, the usual hum of activity was strangely absent. No guards at their stations, no
sound of radios or conversation. Just empty desks and vacant chairs.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, that prickle of unease growing stronger. “Are you the only one watching Sarah?”
The guard’s smile spread across his face with practiced ease, yet something in his eyes didn’t match the casual gesture. He tapped his wristwatch with a finger that trembled almost imperceptibly.
“Dinner shift,” he explained, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness beneath the casual tone. “They all went to grab
something to eat.” He glanced at me, his gaze flickering away when it met mine directly. “They’ll be back by the time we’re finished. I’ll head to dinner myself after you’re done.”
I forced my lips into a polite smile even as my heart rate accelerated a little bit.
“I’m sorry to keep you from your meal,” I replied, striving to maintain a normal tone. The empty hallways too silent.
As we ventured deeper into the detention area, shadows seemed to reach for us from every corner. The lighting dimmed
with each step, fluorescent bulbs overhead flickering in an erratic rhythm that made the walls appear to pulse and
breathe. One bulb buzzed angrily before extinguishing completely, plunging a section of corridor into darkness.
My human eyes—still frustratingly limited without Cassandra’s enhanced vision—struggled to penetrate the growing
gloom. I squinted, blinking rapidly as if that might somehow improve my vision. My footsteps slowed, becoming hesitant,
my swollen ankles protesting with each careful step. The concrete floor felt uneven beneath my feet, or perhaps that was
just my growing disorientation.
“Is it always this dark down here?” I called out, my voice bouncing back at me from the concrete walls, returning with a
hollow quality that heightened my unease. “Can you turn on some more lights?”
Nothing but silence answered me.
Not even footsteps.
The guard had vanished.
A chill swept through me that had nothing to do with the temperature. My mouth went dry, heart hammering so loudly
against my ribcage that I was certain anyone nearby could hear it. The twins sensed my distress, their movements
becoming more agitated within me, tiny feet and elbows pressing outward as if trying to protect me from the outside.
I pivoted as quickly as my pregnant body would allow, one hand pressed against the small of my back for support, the
other cradling my belly. My breathing came in short, shallow gasps as I tried to retreat the way we’d come, my eyes
desperately scanning the darkness for any sign of movement.
Too late.
A sharp pinprick of pain at the base of my neck made me gasp. The sensation was so unexpected, so precise, that for a
split second I couldn’t process what was happening. A hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my startled cry as I felt
something cold and metallic press against my skin, followed by the distinct pressure of an injection. 1/2
Almost instantly, a spreading warmth flowed outward from the injection site—a syrupy heaviness that traveled through
my veins like molten lead. My limbs grew heavier with each passing second, muscles refusing to obey my increasingly
frantic mental commands.
“No,” I whispered, my tongue already feeling thick and uncooperative in my mouth. The word emerged slurred,
frightening in its weakness.
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I attempted to fight, to summon the strength that had brought down opponents twice my size in the training ring, but
my body betrayed me. My knees buckled, no longer able to support my weight. My shoulder hit the wall first, a dull thud
that barely registered through the creeping numbness, before I slumped fully against it.
One hand desperately clutched my belly, fingers splayed wide as if trying to create a shield for the precious lives inside.
The twins kicked frantically now, their movements sharp and erratic. I imagined them sensing my fear, responding to the
flood of stress hormones surging through my bloodstream. Tears welled in my eyes.
Through the encroaching fog of whatever drug now coursed through my system, I heard the guard’s voice emerge from
the shadows. His tone had transformed completely—no longer professional or even nervous, but unctuous and eager,
dripping with anticipation.
“Sarah, can we now…?” The question hung in the air. His breathing was heavy, excited, the sound making bile rise in my
throat.
A wet, slicing sound cut through the air with sickening clarity—the unmistakable sound of metal parting flesh with
practiced ease. A spray of something warm and sticky splattered across my face and neck, the metallic scent of fresh
blood filling my nostrils. I flinched instinctively, eyelids fluttering as droplets caught in my lashes.
The guard made a strange, gurgling sound—part surprise, part pain—before his body crumpled to the floor with a heavy
thud. The impact sent vibrations through the concrete that I felt more than heard as my senses continued to dull. His
body twitched once, twice, then went still, a growing pool of darkness spreading outward from his throat.
My vision tunneled, the edges darkening like an old photograph burning from the outside in. Colors faded, shapes
blurred, sounds became distant and distorted. Through this sensory soup, I registered Sarah’s voice—cold,
contemptuous, and terrifyingly clear despite my fading consciousness.
“Pathetic fool,” she sneered, the words cutting through my mental fog like diamonds through glass. “You were just a tool
to help me catch this bitch Aria.” A humorless laugh followed, the sound echoing strangely in my drug-addled mind. “Did
you actually think I’d sleep with you?”
I tried to speak, to call for help, to beg for my children’s lives if not my own. My lips moved, but no sound emerged. Then
the darkness swallowed me whole, taking my