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bob up and then down. “Nothing. They don’t keep me shackled anymore.”

“Do you ever get to go outside?” I fish, wondering if we’ll ever get a chance to escape.

“No,” she shakes her head.

“Then we’ll have to get our exercise in here.” I stack my tray on top of hers and carry them to the corner by the door. “You ever learn to fight?”

She shakes her head. “I’m only twelve.”

I snort. “I knew a twelve-year-old who could kick my butt. Come on, I’ll show you some moves.”

I crouch down into a fighting stance, knees bent, hands facing toward her. We are an army of two, with me as the default commander. I don’t know how long Astrid and I will have together, but I plan to at least teach her how to defend herself. It might pay off in the long run.

After a moment, she copies me. “This won’t hurt the baby?”

Fake baby. “As long as you don’t kick me in the stomach.” I wink. It’s not a gesture I would have made before. Winking and laughing, two habits I’d picked up from Aiden.

Her eyes round and she shakes her head with vehemence. “I won’t, I promise.”

“Good. Now, try and grab my wrists, to hold me still.”

She does and I break her hold almost at once.

She squeaks and leaps back.

“That’s good, you have fast reflexes.”

“I’m not very strong.” Her tone is apologetic.

“The best fighter I know is the fastest.” In my mind’s eye, I can picture Nahini, moving like a blur. “Strength only matters if you can lay hands on your opponent. Now this time, I’m going to grab you.”

I lunge and she darts back. I’m fast too though and I manage to get a hold of her wrists.

She struggles and then steps away.

“Not back. Don’t retreat,” I tell her. “Step into me.”

She does.

“Now, circle your arms in and around, the way I did, to break the hold.”

Astrid does, though not fast enough to get free.

“Try again, but move faster so that I don’t have time to adjust my grip.”

The speed of her movement increases and I fumble my hold enough that she can spring back.

“I did it.” Her eyes are alight with excitement.

“You did. Let’s try again.”

We work for hours. I show her how to break different holds and use whatever is on hand to break free and put distance between herself and her attacker. I don’t bother trying to teach her to attack. Astrid is too worried about hurting me. Our goal is to escape, not take down an army.

She may never become one of Nicneven’s Nymphs but as I watch her move, I feel good that I’ve taught her a valuable skill that might one day save her life.

We’re taking a breather when a hiss stems from the air vents. I leap to my feet, but there is nowhere to run.

“Nic,” Astrid grabs for my arm, panic wild in her eyes.

“It’ll be all right,” I say, even though it isn’t.

But when our eyes meet, I see hers are swirling silver gray. A tear slides down her cheek. Dread fills me.

“If you get the chance to run, Astrid. Don’t wait for me.”

Her lips part but then her eyes roll back in her head. I catch her before she hits the ground. Lowering myself so that I don’t fall, I cradle her in my lap.

“Bastards,” I exhale, swearing that I will one day kill Agent Hanson and all her cronies if it’s the last thing I do.

I awake with the damned hood over my face. Agent Hanson is looming over me, dark gaze laser-focused. My terry sarong is gone. My flesh is covered in goosebumps against the cold metal gurney. My arms are pinned at my sides by the metal bits again.

“You’re an interesting young woman, Ms. Rutherford. A stone-cold killer who spent the last several hours teaching a girl she just met to defend herself. I half expected you would kill the girl, especially when she knew about your offspring.” Her gaze travels down to my stomach.

Fake baby. Mindfuckery. I want to ask her where Astrid is, but speech is impossible with the hood covering my mouth. It dawns on me then that this is going to be a different sort of interrogation. Agent Hanson still wants her answers, but if my mouth is covered, we’ve moved beyond talking.

A medical tech moves around her, putting a sensor down by abdomen.

My eyes go wide as I hear the rabid little thrum thrum thrum from the microphone.

“Your baby’s heartbeat,” Hanson says. “In case you didn’t believe our report.”

Tears sting my eyes. Oh, gods, it’s true. It crashes down on me with the weight of an avalanche. I really am pregnant. Up until this moment, I had ignored it, pushed it aside. But I really am going to have a baby.

Aiden’s baby.

The tech places more sensors, at my throat above my breasts. My adrenaline spikes, the sound of my own rabid heart drowning out the little flutter of the infant. She said she didn’t want to hurt the child. What is she going to do to me?

Hanson dons latex gloves then reaches for my hood’s fastenings. She uncovers my face.

I suck in a lungful of air. “You know not only does the food suck in this place, but the hospitality leaves a lot to be desired. My Yelp review is going to be scathing.”

She ignores my tone. “Tell me where Aiden Jager is.”

“Oh good, an easy one.” I pretend to think about it then hold her gaze. “I have no idea.”

She gets close, not close enough for the kiss I’m longing to give her, but still in my face. “I will break you, Nic.”

I hold her gaze in silent challenge.

“Last chance. Tell me where to find the wolf.”

I force myself not to react. She knows what Aiden is, or at least that he can transform into a wolf.

“I already told you, it wasn’t my turn to watch him. So, what are you going to do to the pregnant teenager?”

In answer,

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