Claimed By The Twins Alphas

Chapter 13

~ ROWAN’S POV ~

I woke up with the shredded remains of my favorite silk dress still clutched in my hand. The note from Sabrina was a crumpled ball on the nightstand. My heart was a steady thrum of anger, but my stomach was empty. It was six in the morning. Usually, a maid would bring a tray of tea and fruit by now.

I waited. Six-thirty passed. Seven.

I stood up and walked to the door, pulling it open. A young maid named Sarah was scurrying past with a stack of fresh linens.

"Sarah?" I called out.

She jumped as if I had fired a gun. She didn't look at me. She kept her head down, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Is breakfast late today?" I asked, my voice as polite as I could manage.

"The kitchen is busy, Miss Rowan," she whispered. She hurried away without another word.

I frowned. I went back inside and began to clean my own room. I stripped the bed, wiped down the surfaces, and organized the vanity. No one came to help. No one came to take the trash.

By noon, I was lightheaded. I headed down to the dining room. I expected to see Julian or Marcus, but the long table was empty. A single plate of beef stew sat at the far end.

Sabrina was standing by the window, her back to me. She turned around, a sharp, cold smile on her face.

"Oh, look. The breeder finally crawled out of her hole," she said.

"Where are the Alphas?" I asked, ignored her taunt.

"Out on pack business. They have real things to attend to, Rowan. Not just watching a traitor pace her room," Sabrina stepped closer. She smelled of that heavy, floral perfume that made my head ache. "The staff is a bit tired of catering to you. They think you're bad luck. An 'accused traitor' living in the Alpha’s house? It makes them nervous."

"I can get my own food," I said, moving toward the table.

"Don't be silly. Eat your lunch. It’s the last thing the cook made before he went on break," she gestured to the bowl.

I sat down. I was too hungry to argue. The stew looked fine. I took a large spoonful. It had a strange, metallic aftertaste, but I swallowed it. I took another.

Within ten minutes, my gut twisted. It felt like someone had reached inside me and grabbed my intestines with a pair of pliers.

"Are you okay, Rowan?" Sabrina asked, her voice dripping with fake concern. "You look a little pale."

"I’m fine," I choked out, gripping the edge of the table.

"You look weak. Defective," she leaned down, whispering in my ear. "Maybe you aren't fit to carry an heir after all. What a shame that would be."

I pushed past her and sprinted for the stairs. I barely made it to my bathroom before I collapsed over the toilet. I heaved until my throat burned. My skin felt like it was on fire. I crawled to the bed, my muscles shaking.

I stayed there for hours. Every time I tried to move, the cramps returned. My fever spiked. I felt the sweat soaking my hair, my breath coming in short, jagged pants.

The door opened late in the afternoon. Julian walked in. He didn't come to the bed. He stood by the door, his grey eyes tracking my shivering form.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice harsh.

"I... I’m sick, Julian," I managed to say.

"The staff said you’ve been acting strange. Sabrina says you’re making yourself sick to avoid your duties," he stepped closer, his shadow falling over me.

"She’s lying," I hissed, though it hurt to speak.

"You look like hell. You’re useless to me like this," he growled. He reached out and felt my forehead. He cursed under his breath. "You’re burning up. Marcus!"

Marcus appeared in the doorway a moment later. He looked at me, his baby blue eyes softening for a split second before his professional mask returned.

"She has a fever. A bad one," Marcus said, touching my pulse point. "Rowan, what did you eat?"

"The stew," I whispered.

"The same stew everyone else had?" Marcus asked.

"I don't know," I said.

Julian scoffed. "Sabrina ate the same lunch. She’s fine. Maybe your body is just rejecting the pack. Maybe you really are a cursed omega."

"I am not an omega," I snapped, the stubbornness flared in my chest.

"Then act like a wolf and get better," Julian said. "We have a session tonight. Don't waste my time."

They left. No medicine. No water. Just the cold command to be ready.

I forced myself to get up an hour later. I drank water from the tap until my stomach stopped screaming. I washed my face with cold water. I wouldn't let them see me broken.

That night, they both came to the room. The air was thick with their scent. Julian didn't waste time. He stripped off his shirt, his lean, muscular build glowing in the dim light.

"Sit up," he commanded.

I obeyed. Marcus sat on the edge of the bed behind me, his hands sliding over my waist.

"You're still warm," Marcus whispered, his breath hot against my neck.

"I’m fine," I said.

Julian pushed me back onto the pillows. He moved between my legs, his hands pinning my wrists above my head. He didn't use a condom. He never did.

"You belong to us, Rowan," Julian growled. "Every inch. Every drop of blood."

He entered me with a sharp, forceful thrust. I gasped, my back arching. The pain in my stomach was still there, a dull ache, but it was drowned out by the sheer heat of him.

Marcus leaned over, his mouth finding mine. He tasted of mint and Alpha power. His tongue danced with mine while Julian moved inside me, a rhythmic, relentless pace that made the bed creak.

"Open your eyes," Julian ordered.

I opened them. I looked into his stormy grey eyes. He looked hungry. Obsessed.

"Tell me you want this," he hissed, his pace increasing.

"I want... to survive," I gasped.

Julian laughed, a dark, rich sound. He leaned down and bit my shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin. I felt the sting of it, the rush of endorphins.

Marcus moved his hand down, finding the spot where I was most sensitive. He rubbed circles there, his touch expert and maddening. My head thrashed against the pillow. My body was betraying me again, responding to the friction, the weight of them, the raw animalistic energy in the room.

"You're so tight," Julian groaned. He let go of my wrists and grabbed my hips, pulling me harder against him.

I felt the orgasm building, a tidal wave that threatened to shatter me.

"Please," I whimpered.

"Please what?" Marcus whispered into my ear.

"Finish it," I cried out.

Julian gave one final, deep thrust, his body tensing as he came inside me. I felt the heat of him filling me, a heavy, permanent weight. At the same moment, Marcus’s fingers pushed me over the edge. I screamed into the empty room, my vision blurring as my muscles clamped around Julian.

He stayed on top of me for a moment, his heart racing against mine. Then he pulled out and stood up, reaching for his pants.

"Get some sleep," he said, not looking back. "The cook will bring dinner."

Marcus stayed a moment longer. He wiped a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb.

"Try to eat, Rowan. You need your strength," he said softly.

They left, and the silence returned.

Twenty minutes later, a tray was placed outside my door. No knock. Just the sound of retreating footsteps.

I walked over and picked it up. It was a piece of roasted chicken and some steamed vegetables. I brought it to the bed and took a bite of the chicken.

The metallic taste was back. Stronger this time.

I spat it out. My heart began to race. It wasn't the cook. It wasn't the pack.

It was Sabrina.

She was putting silver in my food. Small amounts of silver nitrate. It wouldn't kill a werewolf, but it would make us sick. It would keep me weak. It would make me look "defective."

I looked at the cameras in the corner of the room. They were watching. They saw me spit the food out. Would they care? Or would they just think I was being difficult?

I walked to the trash can and dumped the entire tray inside. I covered it with the shredded remains of my dress so the cameras wouldn't see the full plate.

"You want me to starve?" I whispered to the empty room. "Fine. But I’m not dying in this house."

I waited until two in the morning. I knew the Enforcer shifts changed then. Silas would be in the surveillance hub, likely distracted by the monitors in the library or the perimeter.

I put on my black leggings and the grey hoodie. I didn't wear shoes; they made too much noise.

I slipped out of the room. The hallway was a tunnel of shadows. I moved like a predator, my back against the wall. I had been watching the house for weeks. I knew the layout. I knew where the cameras were angled.

I reached the kitchen. The smell of cold grease and bleach was strong. I didn't turn on the lights. I moved by the moonlight streaming through the high windows.

I opened the pantry. I didn't touch the prepared meals. I went for the basics. A loaf of bread that hadn't been sliced. A bag of apples. A block of cheese still in its wax seal. These were safe. Sabrina wouldn't have had time to taint the raw supplies without the chef noticing.

I sat on the floor in the dark corner behind the large prep island—a blind spot I had identified yesterday. I tore a piece of the bread and ate it. It was dry and bland, but it didn't taste like metal. I felt the strength returning to my limbs with every bite.

I ate half the loaf and an apple, hiding the scraps in a paper bag I found. I would take the rest back to my room and hide it under the floorboards near the closet.

I heard a floorboard creak in the hallway. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs.

A shadow passed by the kitchen door. It was an enforcer on a routine sweep. He didn't look in. He kept walking.

I exhaled, a long, slow breath.

I wasn't just a breeder. I wasn't just a traitor. I was Rowan Brooks, and I was going to outlast every single one of them. Sabrina wanted me dead. Julian wanted me as a vessel. Marcus wanted me as a project.

I stood up, clutching my stash of safe food to my chest.

"Enjoy the show, boys," I whispered, glancing toward the hidden lens in the smoke detector. "Because you're about to see exactly how stubborn I can be."

I slipped back into the shadows, navigating the maze of the mansion with a new, dangerous purpose. I had found my first blind spot. It wouldn't be my last.