Jason didn't need confirmation.
He felt it.
Something had shifted inside the house—inside her. The way she guarded her body now wasn't fear alone. It was instinct. Ancient. Protective.
He noticed how she slept curled inward.
How her hand lingered unconsciously over her stomach.
How her scent had changed—subtle, but unmistakable.
Creation always left a mark.
Jason Watches
He didn't confront her.
Not yet.
Instead, he became attentive in a way that made her skin crawl.
Food prepared carefully.
Her chair pulled out.
A blanket placed over her shoulders without a word.
"You don't need to be afraid," he said one evening, brushing her hair back gently.
She stiffened.
"You've been saying that a lot," she replied quietly.
His smile faltered—for half a second.
"Because it's true."
But she could feel his eyes tracking her every breath, every movement, like he was counting something invisible.
Her Fear Takes Shape
Loraine barely slept.
Her thoughts circled endlessly around the same terror.
A child born in this house.
A child bound to him.
A child she could never protect.
She pressed her palm to her stomach again, tears burning her eyes.
"I won't let you become another chain," she whispered.
The thought that followed made her shake.
I can't let you be born.
The guilt was instant. Crushing.
But fear was louder.
The House Tightens Again
Jason ordered new guards.
More cameras.
Less freedom.
"You don't need the outside world," he told her calmly. "Everything you need is here."
"I need air," she said, voice trembling but firm.
His eyes darkened.
"You need safety."
The word landed like a verdict.
Ethan Draws Blood
Outside the walls, Ethan finally made a mistake.
A guard spotted him.
The alarm didn't sound—but the house felt it.
Jason stopped mid-sentence, head snapping toward the corridor.
"…There you are," he murmured.
Loraine's heart raced.
"You're not going anywhere," Jason told her gently. "I'll be right back."
She knew better than to argue.
A Reminder of the Past
Ethan didn't run fast enough.
Jason caught him in the shadowed edge of the property, gripping his collar and slamming him against stone.
"I told you," Jason said softly, eyes glowing faintly red, "that mercy was a one-time thing."
Ethan coughed blood but laughed anyway.
"She's scared of you," he spat. "She's waking up."
That was the wrong thing to say.
Jason's grip tightened.
"She belongs to me."
Inside, Something Breaks
Loraine felt it.
Not the violence—but the certainty.
Jason wasn't just protecting her anymore.
He was protecting something else.
And that terrified her more than anything she had seen behind locked doors.
When Jason returned hours later, his clothes spotless, his expression unreadable, he knelt in front of her.
"Tell me," he said quietly, "what are you hiding from me?"
Her silence stretched.
Her hand trembled over her stomach.
Jason followed the movement.
And finally—
He understood.
His breath caught.
A smile spread slowly across his face—awed, possessive, dangerous.
"My blood," he whispered. "Growing."
She recoiled.
"No," she cried. "Please—don't—"
He pulled her into his chest, holding her too tightly.
"You were made for this," he murmured. "For me."
Tears soaked into his shirt.
"I'm scared," she sobbed. "I don't want it. I don't want this life."
Jason's voice broke—then hardened.
"You don't get to destroy what I've given you."
Questions That Close Like a Trap
Will the child become Jason's final claim over her?
Can Loraine make a choice before it's taken from her?
How badly is Ethan hurt—and will Jason finish what he started?
And when creation begins in a house built for cages…
does anything born there stand a chance?