Page 36 of Rejected and Pregnant By the Alpha King

“It’s too late for that,” he says, unlocking the door. “You’ve done the damage. It can’t be undone.”

“Daniel, I swear it meant nothing,” I lie. “I promise.”

He throws me into the cell, yanking the door shut behind me. The grinding of the locking mechanism causes me to flinch.

“The next time I see you,” he says, walking back to the stairs, “you’ll be someone else’s problem.”

I scream at him as he slams the door shut, plunging me into complete darkness.

15

Raine

Time passes so slowly that I lose track of the days that roll by.

In the dark recesses of the dungeon that Daniel considers a cellar, I’m left to nothing but my own thoughts.

At first it scares me, being down here with no one but myself. Everything is silent aside from my own breathing, and the only light source I have is a small crack from the cellar door not exactly fitting back into the warped frame, which shines a little light down the steps.

There’s no discernible schedule for when I’m brought food, or how much or how little it’ll be, until I hear the telltale heavy footsteps descending down the stairs and an enforcer tosses me a paper bag with whatever scraps they decide to feed me that day.

There’s no room for talking or questioning when I’ll be let out of here.

For all I know, I’ll never be. I’ll be forced to stay down here until the end of my pregnancy, and who knows what will happen to my baby once I have them.

Will Daniel have them taken away from me? Or will we be forced to live down here for the rest of our lives?

I’ve never seen him so angry before, so there’s no telling what his wrath is capable of.

Even when my father defected and left me behind—that was nothing compared to this.

I don’t cry though. I won’t give Daniel, or the enforcers who toss food at me like I’m nothing more than the livestock we keep for the winter months, the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I’m tired of showing them my weaknesses and having them used against me.

When the door to the cellar is opened, I don’t bother looking up from where I’m hunched in the corner of my cell. There’s no point anymore.

They’ll either throw the food somewhere near enough that I can reach through the bars and grab it, or it’ll be just out of reach and I’ll be forced to watch the paper bag while I starve.

“Raine?” someone whispers.

Leaning over toward the bars, I crawl until I can feel them in front of me. A flare of light flashes from over by the stairs, catching my attention.

My breath is frozen in my lungs while I watch the figure grow closer to me.

“Raine!” they whisper again.

My eyes widen. “Delilah?”

Instantly, I’m pushing myself up onto my feet, but soon fall back to the floor again. My legs burn from the pins and needles racing through them. The cellar floor is pure concrete, making it almost unbearable to lay or sit on comfortably.

The light from the flame in her hand—a candle, I realize as she stands in front of my cell—flickers slightly. “Oh my gods, you really are down here.”

She squats, her eyes panicked and frightened.

I reach for her through the bars. She’s warm under my touch, and finally, after what’s felt like weeks without human contact, I begin to tear up.

“You just disappeared the night you said you were sending that letter.” She’s talking in a low voice, almost a whisper. “I got so worried something happened to you.”

“How long has it been?”

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