Page 142 of Traded

When I don’t move, he sighs and takes a seat beside me on the couch. “Liam said he’d talked things through with you.”

That’s one way of putting it. The only words I have are ones I can’t voice, so I say nothing. Jonas clears his throat. “Look, Rosie. This pack… we can make this as easy or as hard as it needs to be, alright?”

Un-freaking-believable.“What do you want me to say, Jonas?”

He reaches for my face and my hand shoots up, slapping him away. His face creases in irritation he has no damn right to. “What, so I can’t touch you now?”

You lost the right to touch me when you forced my jaw open and shoved soap down my throat.

“I don’t feel well,” I say instead. “The others are waiting for you.”

He pats his hand over my blanket-wrapped, fluffy-socked foot. I’m assuming it’s supposed to be comforting, but all I want is tokick him in his perfectly chiseled face. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re staying home. A bit of space to think things through. Think about what you really want.”

He reaches forward, and I flinch back, face twisting as he scoops up my phone. “What are you doing?”

“Like I said.” He holds it out of my reach. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Have a think about it while we’re gone.”

“Give me my phone.” I make a grab for it, but my arms are shorter than his. “Jonas, seriously. I need my phone!”

“You’re at home.” He stands, pulling it back out of my reach as I fight to free myself from the tangle of blankets Carter wrapped me in. “There’s food in the fridge. Plenty to keep yourself entertained.”

He takes a deep breath as I stare at him wildly. “You are not to leave this apartment.”

The tone registers a half-second late. My body slams back against the couch, a whine slipping from between my parted lips as he tears another page from the Daddy Kessler playbook of discipline.

But this feels different.

As if I’m being yanked in two separate directions. Two alphas. Two sets of orders, both of them pressing me down until I can’t breathe. I claw at my neck, a keen crawling up my throat and coming out in choking, pleading fragments.

It doesn’t feel right.

Jonas’s face twists. “Calm down. It’s two days. You’ll be fine.”

I don’t feel fine. I try to stand, but the blankets get in my way and my knees hit the floor. Jonas backs away, his face sallow but determined.“You will not say a word about this to anyone.”

My body curves over, my stomach revolting and my nails digging into the floor as a stab of pain strikes. “Please—”

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic.” He picks up his bag as I try to drag myself forward. But the pain is getting worse. I curl over again, my arms wrapping around my stomach. “Now you’ll understand what the consequences can be when we’renotfriends, Rosie. Consider this a taste.”

He leans over me, and my hand reaches out for his ankle.

He can’t trap me here. He can’t leave me like this. Another stab hits my stomach and I cry out, my hand pressing over phantom pain.

Not right—

Jonas’s feet disappear from my line of sight. When I try to crawl after him, my legs shake so badly that I crumple back down.

Something is seriously wrong with me.

Something more than a bark.

The elevator sounds, and I start dragging myself in that direction. The doors slide closed, and my last glimpse is of Jonas’s face as he slides my phone into his pocket.

He doesn’t look at me.

The pain worsens as I haul myself down the hall and reach for the button to call the lift back up.

My hand hovers over the button. But it won’t move. Won’t go closer, won’t pushinno matter how hard I try. My body refuses to let me disobey Jonas’s order.