Page 62 of Rescued By Four Alphas
He hands the tube to his assistant with the care of someone handling precious artifacts. "Rush this to the genetics lab. I want preliminary results within six hours, and the full analysis within twenty-four."
As the technicians clean up their equipment, Reid heads towards the door. He pauses and looks back at me with what might almost be curiosity. "You might be interested to know that Subjects 7 and 9 expired yesterday during our induction trials."
The room seems to tilt sideways. "What?"
"Two of our other pregnant Omega subjects," he clarifies, as if I didn't understand. "We attempted to induce labor at approximately six months of gestation, but their bodies couldn't withstand the strain. Cardiovascular collapse in both cases."
Two more women are dead. Two more mothers who will never hold their babies. Two more families were destroyed by this man's monstrous ambition.
"You're murdering them," I whisper, tears burning my eyes. "Those women, their babies... you're killing them..."
Reid adjusts his glasses, looking almost offended. "I'm advancing human knowledge about shifter reproduction. Those subjects' contributions will save countless lives in the future when we perfect these techniques."
"You're a monster."
He appears to consider this for a moment, then shrugs slightly. "History will judge my work differently, Dr. Baldwin. Pioneers are often misunderstood in their time." He checks his watch. "I'll return this evening to review the ultrasound results."
As he leaves, I turn my face to the wall, letting the tears flow freely. The worst part of this nightmare isn't the physical discomfort or even the terror of what Reid plans for my babies. It's the aching, gnawing emptiness where the bond with my mates should be.
Since the first day here, I've felt phantom limb syndrome of the soul. My Omega nature cries out for them constantly, a primal part of me that doesn't understand why they aren't responding to my distress. The drugs they pump into me suppress my shifter biology, but they can't completely sever the bonds I share with my Alphas.
Instead, I experience the most torturous teasing of those connections like flashes of emotion that might be theirs or might be my desperate imagination. Sometimes I wake from fitful sleep, convinced I've caught Axl's scent or heard Evan's voice. The absence of the real thing sends me spiraling into a state that mimics my heat but offers no relief.
Reid explained it to me yesterday. "Your biology is fighting the suppressants and trying to signal your Alphas. It's fascinating how your body prioritizes the mating bond even over your comfort. We're documenting exactly how the separation affects your hormonal balance to help design more effective control methods for future subjects."
Future subjects. As if there will be more women like me, trapped and violated for his precious data.
The door opens again, and a technician wheels in the ultrasound machine. She doesn't speak as she squirts cold gel onto my belly and begins the procedure. I've been through this daily since arriving here. The first time, I tried pleading with the technician, begging her to help me or at least tell me why she was participating in this cruelty. She never responded, and her eyes remained fixed on the monitor as if I were nothing more than an interesting specimen.
I look at the screen drawn with images of my babies. They're so much bigger now than they should be, their features more defined. I watch their hearts pulsing rapidly on the screen and fight back a sob.
"Are they healthy?" I ask, my voice cracking.
As usual, there's no answer. The technician finishes her work, wipes the gel from my stomach, and leaves without a word.
When the door closes behind her, I break. The sobs wrack my body, making my swollen belly heave. I think of my home, of my mates, of the life we were building together. I think of the nursery we were designing, the family we were creating. I think of never seeing any of it again.
"Your daddies are coming," I whisper to my babies through my tears. "They won't let this happen to you. They're coming for us."
I must believe it. I must cling to that hope or lose myself completely.
In my more lucid moments, when the drugs temporarily thin in my system, I try to plan. The restraints are tight, but they adjust them daily as my body changes. If I could time it right and create a distraction during one of these adjustments, I might be able to overpower a technician. But then what? I have no idea where I am in this facility, how many guards stand between me and freedom, or even which direction would lead to an exit.
The door hisses open again, startling me. Instead of another faceless technician, Dr. Marianna steps into the room, and my heart lurches at the sight of her.
She looks terrible. Her usually immaculate appearance has deteriorated. Her hair hangs limp around her face, dark circles shadow her eyes, and her hands tremble slightly as she clutches a medical chart. But she's not restrained as I am, and she wearsa lab coat with an ID badge, suggesting she's moving freely through the facility.
"Dr. Baldwin," she says, her voice quavering. "I'm here to... to check your vitals and adjust your medication."
"You," I whisper. "You did this. You betrayed me."
Marianna flinches as if I'd slapped her. "Dahlia, please... You have to understand. I didn't have a choice."
"We always have choices," I spit, straining against my restraints, wishing I could wrap my hands around her throat. "You chose to drug me. You chose to help them kidnap me. You chose to condemn my babies to this."
She moves to the monitors, checking the readings with shaking hands. "Reid took my mother," she says quietly, not looking at me. "Three months ago. He said he'd kill her if I didn't cooperate. I thought I could feed him information, keep him satisfied with small details. The timing of your appointments, routine test results..."
The betrayal cuts deeper with each word. "You've been spying on me for months? Everything I told you, every test I trusted you to perform, you shared them with him?"
