The Heart of a Warrior

Chapter 45

Adrian's POV:

We talk through the night, the story ebbing and flowing as it pours out of her mouth in torrents. Every so often she'd stop, the words choking her on their way out. A gentle nudge would be my only contribution, willing her not to stop. Not now.

Other times the words flooded out, as though she couldn't get them to vacate her body fast enough. My wolf and I paid rapt attention, an ironclad grip on our own reaction. Her need dominated whatever response we could have. She was the only one that mattered right now.

She talked about how Royce had not just introduced her to Jesse; she explained how he had sold her to him. How she had been nothing more than a tool to gain power, a bargaining chip, she called it, to join the packs. She explained how it was all just a game to Jesse. How it was a battle, a war waged between them, one that was only over with the other's death. How it was fun for him, and how much he enjoyed her pain. She explained how to show him any emotion, any pain, was a weakness she couldn't afford, was an advantage she refused to give him. She explained his need to constantly be in control, to be in power, and how he would do anything to ensure that was the case. As she talked, I realized just how much she left out of her initial explanation.

She talked about the constant beatings, the unending torture, though she skimmed over the details. She described the silver shackles, always encasing her wrists, her ankles.

The silver injections.

Though my expression never changed, my hands shook with the sea of emotions crashing against me. If she noticed, she didn't comment. Didn't react. Her eyes never left the carpet through the night, seemingly engrossed by images I couldn't bear to see. Images a lifetime away. Tears silently streamed down her face, but I doubted she was aware of their presence.

She explained how the injections burned through her system, not just immobilizing her, but completely disabling her. Completely shutting down not just her body, but her mind as well.

I remembered how Elli had been concerned about the strength of her shifter gene, and finally believed we had the answer.

She described her cold cell, the unforgiving concrete. Explained why that was the reason Sam never felt comfortable in a bed; he had never been in one. At the mention of Sam she stops, caught up in the memories. She seems to debate something before giving in.

"I didn't want him," she whispers, self loathing clear in her tone, "When I first found out - when I first realized that I was pregnant, I couldn't stand the thought of him. What kind of mother thinks that?" she questions, disgust coating her voice, "How could I -"

She stops her abuse right as I'm about to interject. "Jesse had become obsessed with the idea of an heir ever since I was capable of giving him one," she explains, gaze still locked on the carpet, "He always made it clear that it was just another use for me, that my sole purpose was to be his breeder. He made excruciatingly sure from the beginning that I understood whatever offspring we had would not be mine, that they would always be his. His to raise, to train. So when it finally happened, when I realized that he had succeeded, all I could think about was how a piece of him was inside me, growing."

I push away the nausea at the thought, grateful for the infallible grip my wolf is keeping on my own emotions.

"When he was born," she continues, "Everything changed. As soon as I saw him I realized that that was all just another lie Jesse tried to beat into me. I realized that Sam was, and always would be, mine. And I realized that I had to do whatever I still could to protect him. To be enough."

"How long were you pregnant?" I ask quietly.

"About three and half months, I think," she answers, "It was a bit hard to keep track of the time."