23. Alexis

23

Over the next few weeks, I can't stop thinking about what happened at the Carter house. How could I have been so stupid as to go back there?

I cringe as I remember the terror I had felt when Mark grabbed me and dragged me into the house. But the part that weighs heaviest on my heart is the memory of pulling that trigger, of taking a life, even if it was Mark's.

I'm not sorry that Mark is gone. He had been a vile, abusive man who had been planning to sell me to The Brotherhood. At that moment, I knew I had no choice. It was either kill him or he would kill me.

And yet, the guilt still gnaws at me. I had never taken a life before, not even in self-defense. The weight of that responsibility is crushing. I know that taking a life—even a wretched one like Mark's—will change me forever. I wonder if I'll ever be able to forgive myself.

Damian had found me trapped under Mark's body, terrified but alive. He held me and soothed me, trying to tell me that the first kill is always the hardest.

Like he expects me to do it again.

I can't shake the feeling that I had crossed some invisible line, that I lost a piece of my own humanity.

As much as I know my actions had been justified, I can't silence the voice in my head that keeps asking, what kind of person am I now? The thought of having to take a life again, to defend myself or the people I love, fills me with a deep, unsettling dread.

I need to learn how to protect myself, to be strong and capable. That moment in the Carter house where I became the wolf feels like a fluke, like it was just a survival instinct.

But the price of that power now feels far too high. With a heavy heart, I resolve to find another way, one that doesn't require me to become a killer.

I seek out Damian first. Since that night, I feel like our relationship has changed. He seeks me out more, and I've started spending some nights in his room. My cheeks turn red as I recall how many times Damian and I have had sex since then, too. He's insatiable, but I also can't get enough of him.

"I need you to teach me how to defend myself," I tell Damian in his office.

He looks up at me, an eyebrow raised. To my dismay, he flatly refuses. "Absolutely not. I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again. You're staying right here where it's safe."

I bristle at his patronizing tone. "That's not a good enough reason! I was able to defend myself against Mark?—"

"That was luck, Alexis," Damian says sharply, setting down his pen. "Not skill."

"I'm not a child, Damian! I need to be able to take care of myself. I can't just rely on you to protect me all the time."

But Damian's unmovable.

Gritting my teeth, I storm out of the office and run into Nat. Thankfully, once Nat hears my request, she immediately acquiesces.

"Of course you should learn how to shoot a gun! You can't just rely on the men to save you, especially my idiot brother."

Nat wastes no time in roping Edo into helping teach me some self-defense moves. "Edo's the best person I know when it comes to this stuff," Nat says confidently. "He's going to show you some killer techniques."

We meet in the home gym, and Edo gestures for me to stand facing him. "Okay, let's start with some basic strikes. The key is using your whole body, not just your arm." He demonstrates a sharp jab, pivoting his hips to generate power. "You try it."

I mimic the movement, my fist snapping forward.

"Good, but really put your weight into it. Use your legs to drive the strike." He repeats the motion, his powerful muscles contracting. He nods approvingly as I repeat the punch, my eyes narrowing in concentration.

Next, Edo shows me how to block an incoming strike. "When someone comes at you, don't just try to stop their hand. Redirect the force." He has me practice parrying his own strikes, guiding them safely aside.

"Now let's work on escapes. You've had way too many fucking people grab you recently. If someone grabs you—" Edo suddenly lunges forward, his hand closing around my upper arms. In one fluid motion, I pivot, pulling free and striking the side of Edo's neck with the heel of my hand.

"Nicely done!" Edo praises, a wide smile on his handsome face. "You really got the movement down. Remember, the key is using their momentum against them."

We continue drilling various self-defense techniques, Edo offering constant feedback and encouragement. My movements grow sharper, more confident as I commit the motions to muscle memory.

Doing this makes me feel like I'm reclaiming my power. Like I'm not weak anymore.

After a while, Nat grows bored watching Edo drill me on self-defense techniques.

"Alright, that's enough of the martial arts stuff," she declares, grabbing my arm. "Time to work on some real firepower."

She drags me down to the lavish indoor shooting range hidden in the basement of the mansion. "This is where the real action happens." Nat grins, gesturing around the state-of-the-art facility.

I feel a flutter of unease in the pit of my stomach as Nat begins thoroughly explaining gun safety and handling. The memory of squeezing the trigger to end Mark's life flashes vividly through my mind, making my breath catch in my throat.

Nat pauses her speech, seeing my growing distress. "Hey, you okay?" Nat asks gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "We can stop if you're not ready for this."

I shake my head rapidly, swallowing hard. "No, I need to do this," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "That's exactly why I need to learn—so I'm never that helpless, that unprepared, ever again."

Nat and Edo share a glance before Nat shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Nat demonstrates a proper stance and fires the gun. To my surprise, Nat proves to be an incredible shot, hitting the targets with impressive accuracy. She makes it look so easy.

The shock and awe in my face must be apparent because Edo chuckles, amusement clear in his eyes. "Yeah, Nat's a better shot than even Damian. Don't tell him I said that, though. You know how he loves to be the best at everything."

Nat preens, clearly pleased with the comparison. "What can I say? I'm a natural. Alright, Alexis, let's see what you got."

They watch me apprehensively as I grasp the handgun Nat handed me. My fingers are shaking slightly, but my grip is firm. Taking a deep breath, I raise the weapon, sighting down the barrel.

The memory of that night floods my senses—the tang of gunpowder, the deafening crack of the shot, the awful, final thud as Mark's lifeless body fell on top of me, his blood surrounding me. I feel bile rise in my throat, my chest constricting painfully.

But then, something shifts. The terror and revulsion give way to a steely resolve. I steady my stance, exhaling slowly. I will not let that moment define me. I will take back the power that had been stolen from me.

With renewed determination, I squeeze the trigger, the gun bucking in my hands.

The bullet strikes the target dead center.

"Holy fuck," Edo breathes while Nat stares at me with something like admiration in her eyes. I lower the weapon, my eyes shining with a newfound strength.

"Let's do that again," I say, my voice unwavering. I'm done being a victim. From now on, I will be the master of my own fate.

I spend the next few hours diligently practicing my shooting, determined to gain proficiency. Nat offers helpful tips and suggestions, occasionally barking at me when I hold the gun wrong. But as time goes on, I begin to feel increasingly fatigued and nauseous.

Chalking it up to the stress and shock of recent events, I finally call it a day, my arms trembling from not only Edo's self-defense lessons but from holding a gun for hours.

"Keep practicing," Nat tells me as we head upstairs. "And there are cameras everywhere in that gun range. If I see you with an improper stance, I will fight you."

Somehow, I don't doubt that Nat would.

After a long, hot shower, I sink into my plush bed, Biscotti immediately curling up beside me. Biscotti's approval of me was the subject of much amusement from Edo and Damian and consternation from Nat.

As I lie there, idly petting Biscotti's fur, a nagging thought suddenly occurs to me.

When was my last period?

With everything that had happened, the trauma and upheaval, I hadn't even been keeping track. Closing my eyes, I mentally try to retrace the calendar in my mind.

Suddenly, I bolt upright, my heart pounding. Seizing my phone, I frantically scroll through my period tracking app, my eyes widening as the data confirms my suspicions.

It has been eight weeks since my last cycle. Right before I escaped the Carter house and found myself tangled in Damian's web.

Panic grips me as I contemplate the implications. Damian, Nat, and Edo have been vigilantly watching over me, not allowing me to leave their sight. How am I going to get the test I need to confirm my fears?

Swallowing hard, I make my way to the door, peering out cautiously. One of Damian's guards is stationed nearby. Steeling my nerves, I approach him.

"Excuse me, I need to go to the store. It's… an emergency," I say, my cheeks flushing.

The guard eyes me skeptically. "I can't let you leave the mansion. Boss's orders."

"Please, I really need to go," I plead. "I need to get… feminine products."

The guard's expression immediately shifts, a look of discomfort washing over his face. "O–oh, I see. Well, in that case, let me escort you to the nearest convenience store."

I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the guard hadn't questioned me further or asked why I don't borrow items from Nat.

As we make our way out of the mansion, I silently pray that the test will confirm my suspicions are wrong.

The security guard waits in the car as I rush inside the convenience store, snatching a pregnancy test and making a beeline for the bathroom.

I'm just not feeling well, I tell myself as I set the test on the counter, setting a timer on my phone for three minutes. I'm probably getting sick.

This is going to be the longest three minutes of my life.

I pace back and forth in the cramped bathroom, my heart racing. This can't be happening, it just can't. There's no way I can be pregnant, not after everything I had endured.

I try to rationalize it in my mind—the stress of finding out the Carters and Mark wanted to sell me to The Brotherhood, the upheaval of being brought into Damian's world, the trauma of killing Mark. Surely, that's enough to throw my menstrual cycle off track, to make my period skip a month or two.

It happens to women all the time, right?

Clasping my hands together, I close my eyes and take a shaky breath. I have to stay calm, stay positive. When I look at the test, it'll be negative.

It has to be. I can't handle the alternative, the terrifying implications of a positive test.

Slowly, I turn my attention to the test stick sitting on the edge of the sink. The wait is agonizing, each second feeling like an eternity.

My phone's timer suddenly goes off, indicating the three minutes are up.

Feeling like I'm going to my doom, I peer at the test, my heart pounding in my ears.

"No, no, no…" I whisper, staring at the test in disbelief. This can't be happening. Not now. Not after everything I have been through.

Two pink lines.

I'm pregnant.