Alpha’s Black Furred Slave Mate
Chapter 18

"You're pregnant?!" Alex asked, pacing the room frantically.

He was throwing his arms in the air as he spoke. I could see the utter panic in his face as he continued to walk back and forth across the room.

"You weren't supposed to still be pregnant," he hissed, his eyes darkening as he glanced over at me. Still?

What did he mean by that?

Looking at the confusion on my face, he rolled his eyes and stopped pacing so he could fully face me.

"The test results from the other day were positive. I told Olivia to tell you it was negative, so you didn't know. From there, I asked the landscaper to assault you again and make you lose the baby," he told me, as though I should have already known this information. My mouth fell open.

How could one person be so manipulative and dark like that? He asked the landscaper to assault me and make me lose the baby? For a while since residing at the manor, Alex seemed to be the more level-headed and kinder one. But he was the mastermind of pure evil. He didn't care about anything or anyone except for himself.

All he wanted was to get ahead of his brother and become the sole heir of everything Marlon had ever built. It was no wonder Marlon favored Bob over Alex. He didn't trust Alex with his kingdom; he didn't trust Alex with his pack, and he certainly didn't trust Alex with his home.

I could feel the pain returning in my chest. I touched my palm to my chest to feel my heart shuttering.

"Don't worry," I heard myself saying; my voice was low and bitter. "Your inheritance is safe. I have a heart condition. The doctor said I won't make it past 6 months. Both I and my baby are going to die soon." Alex sighed out of relief, which made me angrier.

He came across as a handsome, kind, and social young boy, but in reality, he was nothing more than a greedy and selfish man.

I felt disgusted.

"Okay okay," he breathed. "That's a good thing. That's a really good thing."

My frown deepened; looking over at me he gave me a sheepish, almost apologetic smile.

"I mean come on. It's better for you too. It's good that you're going to die here and not on the slave farm. At least now you'll get a burial of some sort instead of being thrown down a drain," he said.

I thought back to my time at the slave farm when I was talking to Kamala. We weren't allowed to have friends at the farm, but she was the closest thing I had as a friend. Typically, we would sneak in some conversations when the guards weren't around. She was never as optimistic as I was, but she was really smart and knowledgeable when it came to slavery and the roles we played.

Before she was taken to live on the farm, she was on the run with her family. She was born to a couple of slaves who resided in a manor up north. Their conditions were nothing like the conditions I live in currently. They weren't treated civilly; they were treated like

scum.

For a long time, they had to hide Kamala from their masters because if they knew about her, they would have her killed. They were able to get away with the pregnancy from her mother hiding her body in big rags and telling her masters that she had a condition where she was gaining weight. They didn't know the slaves had any relations with one another and besides her mother gaining weight, there was no indication of pregnancy. So, they had no reason to suspect anything.

I always found it amazing that they got away with hiding the pregnancy for 9 months. Then once they had the baby, they had to work to keep Kamala hidden. Once again, it worked for a while. Until Kamala turned into a curious 4-year-old girl and wanted to explore. One night she wandered away, out of the slave shack and into the yards of the manor. One of the master's kids saw her and screamed. It alerted the master and mistress of the manor. That's when they found out about the pregnancy and found out about Kamala. As predicted, they sentenced Kamala to death, along with both her parents.

Kamala doesn't remember all the details of their escape, considering she was so young, and her brain was hardly developed. But she said her parents managed to escape and they lived life on the run for a couple of years.

Once Kamala turned 6, they were discovered, and she was taken. She doesn't know what happened to her family, but the worst has been assumed.

They placed her on the slave farm where she's been ever since.

I remembered meeting Kamala and thinking how beautiful she was. Her long dark hair was braided down the right side of her head; her eyes were an emerald green, equipped with long dark lashes. She had a slight rosy tint to her dark features. She told me at a young age her parents had taught her the roles of slavery and what to be expected from her when she aged. They told her of the slave farm she would live on if they were ever to be caught and the essentials of surviving. We bonded over our love for learning and books. Not that we were allowed either of those things while on the farm; or ever again considering the King and Queen banned it for slaves. But those memories still lived strong in our minds. "You know..." Kamala had said one evening in a low voice as to not alert the others. "Sometimes I feel like it's better on the farm than it is out there."

"How do you figure that?" I asked, matching my tone to hers.

"Because at least in here we are equals. There's no discrimination aside from the ones that keep us shackled," she answered, tiredly.

"If this is your idea of equality, it's absurd," I told her, rolling my eyes. "We are locked in steel cages, chained by our necks and limbs. Beaten daily and starved. At least out there, we would have a chance of survival. A chance to make things better." "Don't you see, Deonna? This is it for us. We either die in here, or we die serving masters out there. There is no making things better. It doesn't get any better. It'll only get worse," she told me.

"I refuse to believe that. There's an in-between. One day we are going to break free from slavery and get a taste of real equality," I said to her.

"Wishful thinking," she breathed.

"It's called being hopeful and being determined. It only takes one of us to stand our ground and others will follow."

"And you're going to be the one to stand your ground?" She asked, there was a bit of humor in her tone.

"Somebody has to," I responded with a smirk.

"Well, I'll pray for you and hope that it doesn't get you killed sooner."

We could hear the light murmurs of the guards making their nightly rounds, which meant we had to stop speaking quickly and pretend to be asleep or it'll be another beating for us. We were way too weak and tired to face another beating. It didn't take long for either of us to fall asleep.

Back in the present moment, I realized Alex was still staring at me. Dismay all over his face.

"Did you hear what I said?" He asked.

I frowned; I completely zoned out.

I gave him a small nod, even though I couldn't quite remember what it was we were talking about.

"I need your help with something," I heard myself saying before I could stop myself.

He rose his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest.

"You do?" He asked, his tone flattening.

"I want a chance to go to school and learn for real. Do you think you can help me do that?" I asked him.

After a brief pause, he laughed lightly. Disbelief was all over his face as he shook his head.

"You're joking," he laughed.

My frown deepened.

"I'm not joking. I want to learn as much as I can before I leave this earth. I'm only here for another 6 months and I want to make the most of it," I told him.

He stopped laughing to stare at me intently. Frowning and assessing my face.

"My father would never allow that," he told me.

"I can find a way to convince him. If I can manage to convince him, will you help me?" I asked him.

After another brief pause, he finally sighed out in defeat.

"Okay, yeah. If you can convince my father to let you attend school and study, then I'll help you do just that," he promised.

Thinking back to Kamala, I had told her I wanted to make a difference and that I wanted to stand my ground to free slaves. To guide them out of these dark tunnels and into a new light. But with my time on earth decreasing rapidly and unforeseen circumstances, it looks like I won't be able to see it through.

Even in death, I will still be bound to these chains.

I wanted to make my final days count and learn what I can. Maybe I can bring this knowledge with me to spread to other slaves and commoners and enlighten them to take a stand when I'm no longer here. Maybe I can influence.