Accepting My Twin Mates

Chapter 112

Accepting My Twin Mates Chapter 112

Chapter 109 – Soon?

Evgeniya

Badru’s fingers played with the round swell of my stomach, whispering little words in Arabic to my bump forming. My head rested on Astennu’s lap as he stroked my hair, letting the strands fall through his grip. We were on the deck of a wisteria-covered patio, looking over a lake with a warm breeze surrounding us and a soft floor of pillows beneath.

“Soon…” Astennu whispered.

Soon?…

…But before I could question it, a clanging metallic scrape jolted me upright with a start. My hand flew to my lower stomach, the ghost of my mates’ hands lingering across my skin.

Dammit, it was all a dream.

Across the corridor from me, Bastiaan had staggered awake too, rubbing his forehead where he had smacked it on his cell wall in his haste. It took a few seconds for the sleepy fog in my eyes to clear and realise what the sounds were.

The fighters, they were back.

I scrambled up to see if my father was back, safe and sound, my heart swelling and falling as the few fighters that returned weren’t the one I wanted to see most. Diego’s figure was missing as well.

“Where the hell is my father!” I shouted, pounding my fists on the glass, knowing I would receive no reply. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

“He’s most likely been taken to the clinic, Diego too,” Bastiaan yawned, wiping at the stubble on his bruised jaw.

“But what if he’s not…” I muttered under my breath.

I knew he was alive, my bond with him said as much.

‘That’s not all the bond is saying,’ Evva shook off her sleep, adrenalin and alertness bleeding into her pose.

I started to feel what she was alluding to. My chest constricted and expanded rapidly in irregular palpitations and my mate bond was beginning to tingle the hairs at the back of my neck, like an electrical charge hissing in the air around my ears. I felt like this once before, two and half months ago, when I walked into Astennu’s room with a basket of laundry.

My mates… were near? Or was this an after-effect of my dream?

‘It isn’t. They’re nearer than they’ve ever been,’ my wolf was so rigid in my mind, she could have been picked up like a solid block by her tail.

All day long, I had thought of my possible escape plan, my one and only shot to break myself, and others, out and now I didn’t know what to do. My escape plan involved my father being here. I didn’t need him for it, but I wasn’t about to leave him behind. I had to strike while the guards’ fear was still fresh. If I faked any sort of injury or illness, they’d come running or risk facing Marceau’s wrath. How could I make a move when I didn’t know where my father was? The idea of waiting like a good little damsel for my mates to rescue me made me want to vomit, and not from my pregnancy, but was there even a choice anymore?

‘Who the f**k knows how near they are!’ Evva yelled, bellowing a pounding echo into my forehead. ‘We get out now and when we do, we release everyone at once. They’ll overwhelm the guards and we can find dad.’

‘Jeeze, ok. Take the volume down a few levels though.’

My stomach lurched, caught in a whirlwind like my vision. I rushed to the toilet and emptied out the meagre contents.

Morning sickness, first. Escape from a high-tech prison run by a psychopath, second.

“Lieverd (poppet),” Bastiaan called out to me, his brows pinched together.

I waved my hand in his direction as I rinsed my mouth out, splashing the running water on my face to chill my heated face and neck. Bracing my palms on the edge of the small sink, I heaved myself up from my knees, leaning over the basin in case a round two decided to make an appearance.

I looked up into the small mirror meeting my reflection. Between Bastiaan’s show of concern and my throwing up, both would have been caught on camera, which, as far as I knew, recorded no audio.

‘Play act that ass off, muffin.’

‘Thanks, Evva, for the rousing moral speech.’

‘Less lip, more folding over with stomach pains. It’s the oldest and cheesiest trick in the book, but I like cheesy.’

Clutching my stomach and feigning an issue, I faked a wobble in my step, finding the glass to ‘keep me up right’.

“Bastiaan, no matter what happens, don’t react,” I connected my gaze with his confused molten honey irises.

Before he could say another word, I shouted out, putting as much of a pitiful wail into my voice as possible.

“Guard! Something doesn’t feel right.”

I gripped my lower abdomen, faking a wash of pain for the cameras.

‘Ease up a little,’ Evva advised. ‘We want one guard to drop in, not the whole compound.’

“Evie-” Bastiaan winced, over-stretching his bruised side.

The right side of his ribs showed a heavy green and yellowing colour, threaded with blue from his last match yesterday. The swelling under his left eye had retreated and the contusion had lost its harsh appearance from when I had first seen it. I hoped he wasn’t too injured for what could possibly occur.

I heard a swift set of boots, thudding on the hard floor. One set, but approaching at speed. As quickly as would look natural, I slipped down onto my mattress, right where I would be out of sight.

The door to my cell swept open and a single guard hurried around the corner, entering all on his own.

“I can’t get up,” I gave my best innocent face, needing the wolf as near to me as possible to keep him out of the camera’s range.

I had to be quick, efficient and, most importantly, successful. There would be no second attempt for me. It was this or nothing.

As he knelt down directly in front of me, to grab me and haul me to my feet, I struck. I swung my arm around his neck and trapped his windpipe in the crook of my elbow, using my free hand to pull on my

wrist and tighten my headlock hold. I wrapped my legs around his waist, catching his arms by his side to keep him from fighting back. With a final show of force, I squeezed with all my might, hearing a snap and feeling the guard’s body slump in my grip.

…I had never killed before… Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

‘Have a conflict of morals later,’ Evva commanded. ‘Like when we’re outside the four walls of this cell. Strip the guy and saunter off already.’

I pushed the body off of me, unable to keep the sordid crawl of my skin at bay, and began to strip his outer layers off. Pulling the man’s jacket up my arms, I gave Bastiaan a warning look as he watched on, his eyes popping out of his head. I knew what he wanted to say, it was written all over his face.

What are you doing?

Are you insane?!

They could kill you!

Stop!

I knew because they were my fears also, thundering in my head, right up to the moment I pulled on the man’s boots. Thank the moon above I was so tall and a similar height to the dead guard. For once, it would be of service rather than just being handy for reaching things from the top shelf.

The last thing to complete my subterfuge was the rifle loaded with wolfsbane darts. I had never fired any sort of weapon before, so I could only pray that it was a case of aim and shoot.

I pulled the jacket’s hood over my head, slung the strap of the rifle over my back, just as the guard had worn it, and walked out, stopping to wait for the glass door to swing shut. I blew a small exhale of

victory; so far, so good.

Bastiaan’s hard stare bored into mine, his jaw ticking wildly.

“Be careful, please,” he mouthed, emphasising his plea.

I had watched the guard enough to roughly know his gait and adopt it as close as possible. Most of the other rogues raised no brows at my impersonation and the few that did stayed quiet, as did the vampires. I fumbled around the jacket pockets trying to locate the card. Every second I wasted would give me away as an imposter. Finding the card in the breast pocket, I pressed it to the pad, praying I had used it right. As I had seen a hundred times before, the heavy black metal door swung open and shut behind me.

The sliding door to the surveillance room was open and I readied the rifle from my back, knowing there would be a guard inside.

“Why didn’t you respond to my mind-link?” A voice spoke from the open door laced with suspicion and a European accent I couldn’t quite place.

I had never heard one of the guards speak before and I was beginning to think Marceau had taken their tongues.

“What’s wrong with the she-wol-”

I fired before he could finish.

“Pregnant and pissed off is what’s wrong with me,” I shoved my hood down and fired three more into the knocked-out guard. That should keep him comatose for a while.

‘You could’ve aimed one in his nutsack.’

I rolled my eyes at my wolf and aimed away, right at his groin.

‘There, happy?’