Page 52 of Born to be Broken

“Why do you say son? How do you know it’s not a girl?”

He sniffed the air but did not alter his expression. “I had two sons once… the subtlety of the scent is specific.”

She echoed, “Had two sons?”

His voice never wavered. “My children were murdered when my wife was taken from me.”

Everything in his statement was exactly what was wrong with this whole damn situation. “Children are dying in Thólos now, others’ sons and daughters!”

Jules answered blandly, “It is unfortunate your people prey on the weak, but what we allow is necessary.”

Claire stood, she railed at the Beta. “Necessary? Explain it to me, then! Explain yourself to the woman your master has ruined because he didn’t know how to handle his hurt feelings!”

“Discuss it with Shepherd.” Face blank, Jules left, locking her back in her cage.

Discuss what part with Shepherd? The part about how she was superfluous and he just had not figured it out yet, or the dead babies part? Lying back on her space of concrete, Claire stared at the ceiling and felt like she was drowning in all the fucked up mess of things, the twisted histories, and the pathetic chain that was forged by a man with the emotional intelligence of an adolescent.

She would talk to him all right. She would make him look straight at what a hypocrite he was. She would show Shepherd what she’d discovered, the truth of what he was doing through her eyes… not his distorted vision. The Gods had even directed her to the signpost of what a sad joke everything seemed to be. That boy. That curled up child she had rested on, the corpse with no name and nothing in his pockets. He would be her mascot, and Shepherd would have to look at him and answer to her.

Claire mixed her paints and began to recreate that lonely moment in the alley. There were hours to spend on the work, hours wherein she detailed the brick, the cold, the withered child, and herself… fast asleep against the cadaver’s stiffness.

She had never painted herself before, used the memory of her black hair on her cheek to mask most of her face, but it was her. The same curled up slender form, the bone structure that screamed Omega, all in the clothes she’d stolen from Maryanne.

Mindless tears were falling on the painting as she worked, mixing the colors as her hand moved in a frenzy. Shepherd was sitting across from her, she blithely recognized the fact that he had arrived, but ignored him in her fervor to remember her boy perfectly—to not miss a detail of the grotesqueness of his withered face and milky, shriveled eyes. It was not until the hand holding the brush started to shake that he reached forward and stilled her. The brush was taken from her fingers, the painting turned so Shepherd could see. With his hand encasing hers, he viewed what had eaten up the hours of her day.

His rich voice stated fact. “This is you.”

Stuck in the artist’s haze, that blurry moment where one knows they are creating something monstrous but still mentally indistinct, she muttered, “I was tired and alone. I had been wandering Thólos for hours because I needed to see what had happened, what had been taken when you locked me in this room. I found this boy who’d died alone and sat at his side, feeling as dead as he was… I couldn’t go any further so I leaned against him and fell asleep.”

Shepherd tightened his grip on her hand, growling, “You could have frozen to death.”

Claire nodded. “As that child did. That boy died with no one to care for him… alone and frightened in a trash strewn alley.”

The hand on hers suddenly withdrew. The behemoth stood from the chair and moved something new into her line of sight. “You did not eat your lunch.”

Claire looked at the cold plate of fish and knew better than to argue. Reaching for the fork, she started to push trout past her lips. After shoveling down half the meal without tasting what was probably a divine recipe, she looked at the looming Alpha. “I carried that boy’s corpse on my back all the way to Lower Reaches… So I could bury him with the Omegas. So he would not have to be alone.”

Shepherd sighed, fisted his hands at his sides. “You are upset over the child you carried back to the others.”

With an open expression, Claire admitted, “I am confused as to how you went from a boy dedicated to a mother who loved you no matter the circumstances, to a terrorist who is the cause of the death of thousands of innocent children in Thólos. Why did you change? What justified this, Shepherd?”

He pulled her to stand, and moved them both towards the bed. “You are tired and I suspect you did not nap as your body requires. We will lie down.”

Her words were not slung in cruelty, but curiosity. “Do you not have an answer? No long-winded explanation of legends and greatness to make up for the death of that nameless boy?”

He took her dress, put her in the bed, and followed as soon as his own clothing was shed. Pulling Claire above him, to the place she could feel the purr the strongest, a place that was minorly dominant for the Omega, Shepherd arranged her for sleep. “There is no answer I could give that you would find satisfactory.”

But that in itself was an answer.

When her eyes were falling closed and the purr was moving her to stillness, the male shared his frustration. “Did you never wonder that I may have kept you segregated so that you would not have to be exposed to what is taking place outside these walls?”

Half asleep, Claire hummed. “I am a grown woman, pregnant with your son… a baby no different than that little boy who died because of what you inspired here.”

Fingers rubbed her scalp and he reminded her, “A baby you almost murdered by attempting suicide. A baby you no longer nest for or touch.”

Putting her chin to his chest, knowing the words were true, she did not balk. “After what I witnessed and learned of your nature… the things she said you’ve done… did you never wonder that I would rather kill myself and the unborn child than allow the likes of you and Svana to ruin him as you ruined one another?”

Shepherd’s chest swelled, and it was clear from his expression that the man was incredibly pissed off. Rolling her onto her back, looming over her, his large hand closed over her lower belly. “I am not at all happy with your current mindset or accusations.”