Chapter 23: Rowan
Ishould have admitted how imminent my heat was before we left. Some part of me knew I wouldn’t get far before it took over. But I was terrified of what would happen if we stayed. The nightmare of being restrained on a medical bed with Zolkos hovering above me clung to my thoughts. I needed to get as far away from the doctor as possible.
Heat contractions started before we even reached the decommissioned base, about an hour into the journey. At first, they were faint, easy to ignore. I told myself it was nothing. Maybe stress or nerves.
But the moment we stepped inside the old base, they intensified. Rolling low through my stomach and groin, each wave stronger than the last. They became sharp, demanding, and impossible to ignore. It felt like my body was turning against me, pulling me apart from the inside.
I couldn’t keep walking.
I had to stop.
Bending forward slightly, I forced myself to breathe slowly and deeply, trying to ride it out.
When I fell behind, Killian noticed immediately. He was at my side in an instant, hand steadying me, eyes searching my face with concern.
He scented the air.
And knew instantly.
“Cade,” Killian said sharply, “she’s in heat.”
“She’s not going to make it to the safe house,” Talon added. “Her scent will call everything within a few miles straight to us like a beacon.”
“Fuck,” Cade muttered. “Alright. Change of plans.”
He yanked the printed schematics from his pocket and scanned them quickly under his scope light.
“Here,” he said, stabbing a finger at the page. “Residential wing. We barricade the dorms and ride it out. Killian, carry her. Let's move.”
Killian scooped me up without hesitation, cradling me against his chest. I tried to keep my eyes open, to track where we were going, to follow their voices, but the pain surged again and my eyes squeezed shut. It had shifted lower now, from my stomach to between my legs, sharp and relentless.
I remembered the last time I went into heat, and how fast control slipped away once instinct took over.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
Killian’s grip tightened, solid and protective. “Don’t be, Little Bird. We’re here. We’ll take care of you.”
We burst through a set of double doors, Ryker slamming them shut behind us. The sound echoed down the empty corridor. Every noise seemed amplified in the quiet of the abandoned base.
“Ryker, barricade everything,” Cade barked. “Nothing gets through those doors.”
I forced my eyes open as Killian carried me down the hall. It stretched long and narrow, lined with identical doors, each marked with a rusted metal number bolted to the front. The air smelled stale, and specks of dust floated, creating a haze. Soldiers had not occupied these dormitories in decades.
As we passed an open door, I glanced inside one of the small bedrooms. Two narrow, rusty beds. Thin mattresses coated in dust. A dresser with peeling paint and a dented metal locker hanging open. Everything frozen in time, abandoned in a hurry.
“Clear,” Talon called as he swept a room.
“Clear,” Cade echoed from the next, his movements sharp and practiced.
Behind us, furniture scraped loudly as Ryker shoved dressers, desks, and bed frames into place, wedging them against doors and reinforcing them with his brute force.
Cade emerged from the last room at the end of the hall. “All clear. We’ll set up in dormitory seven.”
Then he shifted fully into command mode. “Talon, find linens. Blankets, pillows, anything usable. Check closets. Ryker, help me pull the mattresses.”
They moved fast.
Talon disappeared down the hall, opening storage closets. Most were empty, but a few still held folded army blankets, stiff with age, and thin pillows sealed in plastic that had yellowed. He shook the dust off them as best he could before carrying them back.
