Holy. Cow.
It isn't a man standing before me but a giant. An unbelievably handsome, almost barbaric looking giant. I have to crane my neck back to look into his face, meaning he's possibly over a foot taller than me – not particularly hard to do at my height – and definitely double my size with his strong, broad shoulders and thick, beefy thighs that aren't hidden entirely under his prisoner garb.
While Edward might look like a Greek statue with his flawless porcelain skin and delicately slim build, this Jacob Black is the complete opposite with his scars that are peppered over brown skin, black hair that would hit his shoulders if it wasn't matted, and his warrior body type that looks like he could smash through a Greek statue in an instant.
My stomach clenches in unfamiliar feminine arousal at the mere thought of it. Now this is a dominant male. Like the others he's wearing a dirty black tank and simple cotton pants, that shows off his well-defined muscles.
"Like what you see, human?" Jacob smirks down at me. His tone is light but his dark eyes pierce through me with deep distrust and bitterness.
He doesn't wait for me to stutter out an answer and passes by me in a few long strides to reach Sam. Kneeling down next to him, he pokes and prods Sam's body in different areas.
"What are you doing?" I ask, still in half a daze.
"Tell me if any place is worse than the other," Jacob says, ignoring me. He presses his palm flat down hard again Sam's ribs and organs, feeling along his torso.
Sam shakes his head after a few moments. "No. No internal bleeding. Just need... to rest."
Jacob nods in relief and using both hands he lifts the large man off the floor as if he weighs no more than a small child. Considering Sam is almost as large as him, it's quite the feat. He takes him to the makeshift metal cot and with a gentleness that seems in conflict to his size he places Sam upon it.
Jacob whispers to Sam a short phrase not in English, Quileute most likely, and reaches for the bloodied sheet at the end of the bed.
I lean over and tug it out of his slack hands before he can cover him with it.
"This isn't clean at all," I say, bundling the sheet up in my arms. They're shaking like crazy. "I don't want Sam to get even more sick. I'll find something better, something warmer and less bloodied, for him to use."
"Until you do," Jacob simultaneously yanks at the sheet and pushes me back a few steps with one forceful shove, "he will use this."
Once I regain my balance I grab the tail end of the sheet and try another tug. I can't say I know anything about medicine or health practices, but I know covering a sick man in dirty, bloodied rags can't be any good for him or his recovery.
"It'll make him more sick—"
"Human."
"But—"
He turns to me, roaring out such a monstrous, thundering sound that I can't believe it came from his human throat. A partial shift? Is that even possible?
"I decide what happens to my pack!"
I whimper pathetically and some instinctive part of me, somewhere deep down, tilts my chin down and to the side, close to my shoulder as I drop the sheet. Jacob's ragged breathing eases as he takes in the smooth slope of my exposed neck.
You should keep arguing with him, a voice calls out within me as the silence stretches between us. Tell him you know better.
What on Earth? Is that Jane trying to give me possibly the worst advice I've ever heard?
But I can't help the part of me that wants to follow it. What's wrong with me? I suppose it's the primitive animal instincts of trying to find my place and ranking within this new group of men.
I mentally groan in frustration at my thoughts. They need to get under control and quick. I've never wanted a confrontation with a man before — they're unpredictable, erratic, and dangerous.
But Jacob Black isn't just a man, now is he? I can't stop that thought before it races through my head either. And now that it's in there I can't stop repeating it. Especially when Jacob's large hand grips my upper arm, fully encasing it from thumb to fingers, and drags me out of Sam's cage.
Not a man.
"I will know if you have spoken a single word of this to your master," Jacob whispers in my ear. He's so tall he has to bend at the waist to do so. "I've killed the other keepers for a lot less. Don't think I'll go easy on you because of what's between your legs if you betray us."
"I would never do that. I know we… that humans aren't... Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but no matter how long it takes I'm going to earn that trust. I promise I will. And that man is not my master." I shudder. "But I will do and say anything to keep on his good side. I've barely been here an hour and already he's the cruelest person I've ever met."
"Hm."
Jacob inhales deep before stepping away without a word or indication whether he believes me. The cold room instantly seems that much colder from the sudden loss of his body heat. No sound comes from the other men in the room, who I assume are either staring at us in rapt attention or trying to ignore what's happening a few feet away.
I watch in fascination as Jacob silently moves back into the darkness of his cage and pulls the bars back, arranging them into their rightful position. There's a few crooked dents in the steel that may be noticeable up close, but unless you know what to look for nothing seems out of place.
"Why haven't you run?" I ask him, strangely just wanting to hear him speak again.
I trail a finger down the cold bar of Sam's enclosure, pulling on it lightly to test its strength. I almost can't believe Jacob can pull them apart. Between his abnormal strength and self-confessed ability to kill, it wouldn't be hard to catch Edward and the staff off guard. I'm sure he could figure a way around the elevators as well, steal an access card off a corpse perhaps. He'd have a very good chance at leaving.
"Why haven't you?" he counters.
My brow furrows in confusion. "Why would I run? I just got here. I have nowhere else to go and this is where I've been assigned."
"This is where I've been assigned as well." His voice comes from the darkness and I've lost the outline of his silhouette to follow. "I suggest you run along now, little human girl."
I'm not a human! I want to scream out. Never has the urge to show my true self been so strong. If the repercussions weren't so deadly I might have tried it out just to see their faces.
But I won't risk it. I promised Charlie to put myself first and I can live without the respect of these men to do that if I have to.
Run along though? He wishes. Instead I simply hop out of the larger cage and head to the locker on the wall that Edward pointed out. Without a lock it simply swings open and I grab the heavy nozzle of the hose that's curled in a ball inside. It's massive. Almost too big for my hands to wrap around but I manage to lug it over to the cage on the left.
I may not be making friends any time soon but I'm not here for that. I'm here to do my job. I aim the nozzle in between the cage bars to the first man. Although the guy looks more like a kid with his round chubby cheeks, messy hair that's barely mattered yet, and smooth face.
"Woah!" the boy inside cries out. "That guy you were talking to might be an asshole but don't take it out on me!"
"I don't plan on taking anything out on you and I didn't think Mr. Black was an… that." Snickers sound out from my inability to swear properly.
"Then get that thing the hell away from me."
Is he scared of water?
I peer down directly into the hole of the hose. Maybe it spurts out some horrible cleaning agent; Edward did say to use it to clean the men.
"Idiot!"
"Do it. Turn it on."
"Are you stupid?"
The men begin to shout and I take a step away from them. Aiming the hose at the filthiest, most bloody wall in here I begin to press down on the lever lightly, trying to get just a little bit of water running.
"Why are you all yelling? Have you never seen a hose before? Do you want me to get rid of this smell and the blood in your cages or don't you?"
When nothing happens I press down even harder. The hose jerks forcefully in my tight grip and without warning kicks back straight into my shoulder, crushing it, and knocking me on my back as a torrent of water gushes out with the incredible force of a fighter jet. I don't even have the breath or time to scream in agony before the tears begin again.
It's a blasted firefighter's hose.
"Miss Swan?" the boy asks cautiously. "You okay?"
"It's Bella," I say pathetically from the floor. I can't even move. My back hurts, my head hurts from the impact on the cold floor, and it feels like my shoulder is either broken or dislocated.
The water from the hose is slowly making its way back to where I'm lying and the second it hits my skin it feels like a thousand needles are piercing it. I can't get too wet in this freezing, cold, metal box. With a groan I try to sit up but quickly collapse back.
"Do you need my help already, little human girl?" Jacob's voice rings out clear and strong. "That was quick."
Yes.
"No. No, I'm okay." I don't want him to think I'm completely weak and useless already.
Rolling to my good side, being very careful of my aching shoulder, I gingerly get to my knees and then to wobbling feet. I push down my skirt that's ridden up, press a hand into my shoulder, and let out, to my surprise, only a tiny cry of pain.
"Maybe you should see X," the red-headed kid says.
"X?"
"The doctor."
My voice breaks. "No, it's okay, I can deal with this alone. It's really not that bad."
I wait several seconds to steady myself before heading to the medical tools I laid out and sift through the supplies with my left hand. I don't want to use any of the painkillers; those are best saved for the guys. God knows they'll need the medicine but I don't think there's any harm in borrowing a plain cloth bandage to create a sling if I return it when I'm finished.
As I struggle with the sling single-handedly, to the amusement and laughter of some of the men, I can't help the few solitary tears that fall. At least my back is turned so they can't see them.
"Just come here."
Jacob. I stubbornly refuse to go to him when I hear his voice.
"No, I said I can do this."
"If you don't come here I'll have to come there, and I don't know how much more these bars can take before someone notices they're not straight."
I simply huff and use my teeth to hold the bandage out straight for wrapping. "It might be a trick. You might make it worse on purpose."
"If someone notices your fucked up shoulder they will assume one of us did it and we will be punished. I won't put my people through more than they need to go through. So, come here and let me help."
Okay, that makes much more sense than him wanting to help me out of the goodness of his heart or wanting to break my shoulder entirely. Nodding, I take the bandage from my mouth and use it to wipe away a few of the stray tears.
"And stop crying. I can smell the salt from here."
Swallowing my pride and tears I make my way back over to Jacob and stand stiffly in front of his cage holding the bandage out. It's still hard to see him properly in this darkness but my eyes slowly begin to adjust again by the time his hands reach through and touch my shoulder, ignoring my outstretched hand.
There's no containing the small gasp at the contact. His fingers are so callous and rough that they snag on some of the fabric but they glide so gently over my shoulder that even through the material of my uniform it causes goosebumps.
He spins me around so my back is pressed against the bars and beings to knead at the contact points on my shoulder, turning it without too much force in certain directions. If he really wants to he can rip my arm clean out of its socket without breaking a sweat.
"Have you done this before?" I ask, closing my eyes involuntarily when his hands make contact with a tense muscle in my back.
"Why? Nervous the nasty feral is about to tear you limb from limb?" I turn to look at him. He doesn't bother to look at me, but pushes me back around and simply continues to work his large hands against my shoulder.
It feels incredible and I bite back a groan.
He pulls a little harder and the pain is immense but thankfully fleeting.
"No, you just seem like you know what you're doing."
"A dislocated joint happens sometimes when we shift."
Not to me it hasn't. "Oh."
The pain begins to ease as he moves my arm this way and that with a feather touch. His body temperature feels abnormally hot, especially against the searing cold of the underground.
"What do you shift into?" I can't contain my curiosity. It's also a nice, neutral topic that hopefully will get my mind off Jacob's fingers and body heat. "It must be a strong animal. Rhino? Or are you Quileute?"
"If your master hasn't been able to torture it out of me yet, a few nice words from the pretty maid certainly won't."
"Please don't call him that," I whisper. Pretty maid he can call me all day, but hearing him call Edward my master hurts on a level I don't understand.
He turns me around and finally lifts his dark, almost black, eyes to study my face intently. He, like Sam, has a few scars that stand in contrast to his tanned skin but they somehow make him look even more handsome, in a dangerous sort of way. He's not the delicate, androgynous beauty that's in vogue.
"It was just a partial dislocation," he states. "Your shoulder may feel tight and you should rest it, but otherwise it's in working order."
"It's fixed?" I question, rolling my shoulder around in a circle. There is some tightness but it's not painful anymore, just uncomfortable.
"Thank you," I say with as much gratitude as possible. There's not many caged shapeshifters who would help a human.
He gives a grunt in return and slides his hands back through the bars to hold them stiffly at his side. "This is hard for you, isn't it?"
The question gives me pause. "Very much, although it's not as hard as it is for you, of course. I'm petrified of being here and what they're doing to you... to all of you. It genuinely makes me sick."
"I know. I can smell the vomit on your breath. It's strong."
Oh my god. I turn sharply, throwing one hand up over my mouth in embarrassment. How could I have forgotten to brush my teeth after being sick in the hallway? Now that it's mentioned, my sensitive nose is able to clearly pick up my smell that was previously disguised by the other disgusting odours of the room.
Jacob grabs my arm before I can run away in mortification.
"Don't be embarrassed," he says. "A body's reactions are much harder to lie with. We're animals here after all and having such an honest bodily response goes a lot further with us than any words. It may be the only reason I don't feel the urge to claw out that creamy pale throat of yours."
It doesn't help in the slightest but I nod at him, not willing to uncover my mouth until I've cleaned it out. Maybe more than once. Jumping out of the cage and towards the main door I release my hand only enough to mumble out, "I'll be back soon," and disappear into the corridor.
Apart from getting Sam into a blood soaked bed (which I didn't even do myself) I've accomplished nothing so far. In fact, considering I've left the hose and puddle of freezing water near the chubby-cheeked youngster I might've made things worse.
Racing back to my room I head for the bathroom and rinse out my mouth three times. A spare toothbrush is laying on the sink so I make much needed use of it. When I'm finally satisfied with my breath I take a moment to study myself in the bathroom mirror.
I didn't make much of an effort this morning for my appearance – I was too nervous to do much else than spend all morning on the couch with Charlie – but I know I didn't look this sickly before. I smack my cheeks lightly to get some colour back into them and run my fingers through my unruly loose curls. It's as good as it's going to get without learning how to apply make-up.
Not that I'm quite sure who it is I'm trying to look good for.
Pulling the loose sleeve of my uniform down passed my shoulder I can already see the dark purple splotches beginning to form from the force of the hose. There's nothing I can do for a bruise of this size except hide it with clothing.
So far things have been a bust. But minutes later I'm back at the elevator and with a quick swipe of my card I'm heading up to the first level determined to try again.
It's time for plan B.
"Hey, you!" Alice calls out when the elevator doors open. She's a few feet away with my suitcase in tow. "I'm glad to see you're in one piece… and that he's got you in the stereotypical maid's outfit. Ick. At least yours isn't too tight or short. Don't worry, he gets bored of enforcing the uniform policy after a year or two, then you can wear regular clothes."
"I'm looking forward to that day already."
"I'm just about to pop these down into your room for you." She lugs my suitcase in and I quickly step out to give her space. Normally I'd offer to help her carry the suitcase, even more so because it's mine, but I don't think my shoulder's up to the heavy lifting.
"Come to dinner at six o'clock sharp," she continues. "I'll introduce you to everyone since you missed lunch. It'd be nice to get to know the rest of us early so you know their names if you bump into them in the hall. My first month here I called everyone 'you' or 'pal'. Hey pal, hey you. That sort of thing."
"That'd be great," I tell her. I catch the elevator's door in my hand before it can close on her. "Before you go do you know if there's a telephone I can use, or a notepad and pen?"
"Not sure about the notepad, that might be something you have to use your pay on, but staff have to ask His Lordship to make any calls out. You can ask him about it next time you see him."
"I will. Thanks, Alice."
"No problem, hon."
I give her a half smile and turn on my heel. I'll need to get to that telephone to tell Charlie that I'm okay. There's absolutely no way I'm telling him the truth about where I am; I'd kill him through shock alone.
Things are fantastic here, Dad. I love it. I'm making so many new and interesting friends. Sorry but I won't ever call you again because I don't want to ask any favours from the psychopath I'm working for. See you in fifty years.
I begin to walk in no particular direction. A few nods and smiles of comradeship are sent my way from the other workers who pass as they're each too busy to talk properly.
My thoughts turn dark as I watch all the workers racing around me, never really stopping. They're punching things into tablets or carrying heavy boxes. They're doing mundane tasks but now that I know what goes on in this place every person in here, I realise, is now my enemy. It's doubtful that Edward would have a side project going when the entire country's adult Feras are housed here so what else would they be doing if not helping that monster?
"Need help?" a middle-aged, slightly balding man calls out to me from across the foyer. "You look lost."
Not wanting to start a screaming match I walk over to him with a grateful nod. "A little. Would you happen to know where I could get some paper and a pen? I'd like to jot down a few notes about my work."
"I sure do but it's a bit of a hike from here on the above floor. You probably don't have clearance yet and I could use a little exercise so you just stay put and I'll run up to grab you some."
I exhale a heavy relieved sigh. "Thank you so much. I'm still learning my way around this place."
He laughs. "I could get you a map as well, if you'd like."
"Really?" I smile. "That'd be great."
His laughter becomes louder until they're more like guffaws. "There's no map. It's just a house, you'll learn the layout soon enough. I'll be right back with that paper for you."
I stand around, unsure of what to do as the man walks off still chuckling to himself. It's not really that funny — this place is big enough to deserve a map of its own. He comes back after five minutes looking flushed and hands me a worn, old notebook bound in leather, and a fancy looking pen.
"This do?" he asks while I flip through the blank, yellow pages.
"Perfect. Thanks again."
"My pleasure," he says kindly and pats my shoulder.
I shrug him off with a practiced smile and nearly sprint back to the elevators and down to the prisoners.
The hose is still leaking a small amount of water so I quickly shut it down and reel it back into the locker, closing it with a heavy snap.
"Hey guys," I huff breathlessly when I finish. "I think we got off to a bad start but I'm here to try again." I hold up the notepad and pen. "If it's okay I'd like to ask some questions to get a feel for how things work."
Half of the men turn their heads towards to back of the biggest cage — towards Jacob. I hold my breath as I glance between them. After a few terse seconds Jacob's voice, quiet but firm, speaks out from the darkness.
"Ask away."
Phew. "Thanks. What time do you normally eat? What's the schedule for that?"
"Whenever they remember we need food to survive," the redhead says. "Sometimes once a day, or if we're unlucky once a week."
"Once a week? You're kidding. When was the last time you ate?"
He briefly glances over to the older men as if he's not sure whether or not to answer. When no-one stops him, he states simply, "Yesterday."
I jot down the first, and possibly the most important note: Feed the men ASAP.
"Does anyone have dietary requirements? I'm a vegetarian so I only eat plant-based foods, maybe the herbivores here would like that, or meat for the carnivores?"
"Lady, I'll eat cat food if you have it," Seth says one cage over.
I decide to write down "both meat and plants" as a side note anyway. I know both the herbivores and carnivores will appreciate the choices.
"You didn't really write that down did you?" Seth asks. "I don't actually want cat food."
"No, Seth. I didn't write down 'feed them cat food'." I try not to laugh.
"Woah. How'd you know my name?"
Sam groans from his cot. "I said it earlier. Idiot pup."
"I hope this doesn't sound rude," I say, looking over the muscular form of Sam and the other beefy men. "But you all seem to have a nice… you seem muscular. Not anorexic like I might imagine a starved person to look like. How is that possible if they feed you so little?"
"Next question," Jacob's voice booms out. He must be sensitive about it.
I quickly nod and stutter out, "Sorry. Um, what about water?"
"What about it?"
"How do you drink? Is that supplied as well? What should I do?"
"When drinking from the toilet becomes too much I open the bars and allow the hose water to run along the ground so we can lap it up like dogs. Any other questions?"
Disgusting. I don't dwell on that fact; it's clear Jacob cares for his "pack" so having to resort to such depravity must be a massive blow to his pride. However, I do quickly write down in large letters: 'Get them clean water and cups!' followed by 'Find a mop and soap to get rid of this smell.'
On another page I sketch out the layout of the cages, and the room, including their beds, toilet, and lockers. I can't see what's in Jacob's cage as it's unbelievably pitch black, so I simply write 'Black' inside his box and smile internally a little at my wit.
I ask each of them for their name and write it down in their assigned square. A few of the older, meaner looking males, like Paul and Embry refuse to tell me their names. I only learn them when the now enthusiastic red haired eighteen year old — who tells me his name is Evan — blurts out everyone's name.
"Evan, you ugly bastard, I didn't want her to know anything about me," Paul spits in Evan's direction. "Haven't you learnt your lesson about the humans?"
"Nah, I think she's here to help us," Evan says, turning to me with hopeful rounded green eyes. "You can get us out, right Miss Swan? That's why you're writing everything down. You're planning our escape."
"I'm—" I look out to the others who are watching me. Most are waiting for the inevitable no. The Quileute men are uncaring and indifferent, but it's the younger ones with guarded hope in their faces that hurt the most. "I don't think I can, Evan. I don't know how. This place is a fortress. Between the large amounts of people running around, the steel doors, the elevator — which is monitored for weight, by the way — there's also a big security gate outside. I think I saw sentry towers and armed guards when I was being driven in."
"That doesn't sound too bad."
"And then, even if we somehow made it out there's a massive forest that surrounds the land which probably holds more traps and goes on for ages. I wouldn't know where to start."
Instead of looking put out Evan seems even more hopeful.
"But you've thought about it."
"Yeah and it seems impossible." I clear my throat while Evan sits back satisfied. "But of course I'll try to help where and when I can. Right now that's getting you all comfortable. Sam's area has the medicine but if anyone thinks they need medical attention right now they should tell me." Silence. "Okay, it also looks like everyone here needs clean sheets and pillow cases. I'll get on that and I'll look around for human soap and shampoo to get everyone cleaned up properly. There's no way I'm running anyone down with that hose. I'm pretty sure it was built to put out fires." My shoulder throbs simply thinking about it.
No-one says anything. They simply glance at one another.
"Am I missing anything? Or does anyone want anything for leisure?"
"Leisure." A nasty laugh sounds out from one man before Jacob quickly shuts it down with a growl.
"We will be fine, little human," he barks. "We want nothing from you, and if I were you I would be more worried about myself."
He's gotten testy since I ran out.
"I don't think that's true at all, Jacob," I counter firmly. "If you were me I think you'd be doing everything you could to help these men still trapped in here while you were living free."
"That would only be because they are my pack, and you," he rumbles, "are not pack."
But I could be.
I ignore him to address the others. "I may not be able to get anything you ask for, but there's no harm in trying is there? So I'll ask again; is there anything anyone wants?"
There's silence before a small voice, Derek I believe, says, "I wouldn't mind some paper and coloured pencils."
I quickly write that down in his area with a small smile. "An artist then? I'd love to see some of your work if I can get you the pencils."
He gives a timid smile in return. None of the men in Jacob's area say a word but the younger males take that as a positive sign and begin to call out for small items. A book, a blanket for the very cold nights, a toothbrush and toothpaste.
Seth begs for a calendar of bikini models which elicits groans from the others.
"Okay, okay," I laugh. "The jokes are coming so I know I've got everything. I think it might be getting late; I won't be able to start cleaning up the smells in here just yet but if I'm able to get some food or find blankets I'll be back tonight."
"Please do!" Evan calls as I make my way out. "I haven't had a juicy apple in so long and I'm getting so sick of eating the super gross meat—"
"Evan!" Jacob roars from his cage. A silent, unspoken threat passes between the two and I see Evan swallow harshly, his Adam's apple visibly straining.
"Yeah, Evan," Embry, I think, says bitterly. "If you didn't want to eat the gross meat you should've just starved and let me have your share. The rest of us wouldn't turn our noses up at it like a spoiled princess. Maybe when you've been here for a while longer you can open that pretty boy mouth of yours and talk shit."
I hover around the exit, unsure whether to leave or not. This conversation is taking a turn towards the private and I get the feeling I'm not allowed to listen in. I can see that Evan desperately wants to retort something back but Jacob's careful gaze keeps him in check.
With a little hesitation I hop out of the room, letting the heavy steel door silence the conversations completely behind me. I'll let the men sort their issues out.
Heading back to my room I stash my notepad and pen before making my way up to the ground floor. The light growling of my stomach is a good indication that dinner should be soon and I still need to find the dining area.
When the doors click open I step out lightly to a completely empty foyer.
"Hello?"
No answer. Taking a wild guess I begin heading down one path, passed the grand staircase, until I hear the faint voices from others. The delicious smell of roasted vegetables linger around the door from where the voices are sounding and I knock on it tentatively.
It opens quickly and a young woman's head pops out. She gives me a friendly smile. "Oh, you're the new girl."
"That's me. Bella Swan. I've gotten a little lost about where dinner's being held, is that here?"
"It is, but…" she looks back inside the room and back to me with a touch of pity. "You're a little late to it. Let me grab Mr. Cull— I mean, the Master."
She doesn't need to go very far because the second her back is turned Edward is standing before me.
"Isabella," he drawls. His eyes scan over my body is a slow, appreciative manner. "The uniform suits you nicely, I see. Although clearly meant for someone a little taller and more well endowed."
I cross my arms over my chest quickly in partial anger and embarrassment. Having a large bust isn't a requisite for being a maid and I'm not going to let him make me feel ashamed of my own body. Edward's eyes narrow at my defensive stand.
"What are you doing here?" he says.
"I was hoping to grab something to eat for dinner." I keep my voice meek and quiet, balancing my stance with something more submissive.
"It's six-oh-five. You're late."
By five minutes. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know the time because I don't have a watch, and I had trouble finding the dining hall."
"There is a clock hanging upon your wall in your room. If you cannot read analog then you better learn fast because, as I have already told you, lateness will not be tolerated in my house. You make me repeat myself again and you will be punished. That seems fair, does it not?"
I nod meekly, relieved when I see him nod back.
"You will learn to be on time when you don't have anything to eat. Now get out of my sight."
I don't argue. Turning on my heel to leave I halt only for a moment when I hear Edward.
"Oh, and Isabella?" I tilt my head in his direction. He leers at me, a foul grin on his lips. "Wear the uniform to breakfast."
Disappointed, hungry, and humiliated I leave and begin to walk towards the elevator to get an early night, but the thoughts of Jacob and the others won't leave my head. I can't let them go another day and night without food. It's an unsettling thought, to have to steal on my first day here, but I can't see another option.
I can only assume there are people keeping an eye on security and the cameras rotating on the walls, but if I act like I know what I'm doing they can't be too suspicious.
What mischief could a shy, five-foot-something teenager possibly get up to?
I walk around the ground floor as fast as I can, knowing I have maybe ten minutes at most to find something of value. I try to map everything and every room I pass in my head so I can write it down later: the laundry room, showers, hall, dormitories. The guys will have to live with a thin, bloody sheet for at least a day longer until I find where those are kept.
Finally, finally, I find what I'm searching for. The completely empty, but fully stocked kitchens. I try not to take notice of the cameras moving about on the wall as I shuffle about the kitchen, pretending to be in my element.
They're probably not paying attention, I tell myself. A maid is allowed in the kitchens. Nothing out of the ordinary here.
As quickly as my human body can manage without looking suspicious, I move around the kitchen grabbing things that might be useful. On a wooden tray I place a few pieces of fruit, a small loaf of bread, some meat cutlets, a very large glass and pitcher.
There. It's a large enough meal that it might tide the men over until I can figure out how to get them more food tomorrow morning, but it's a small enough meal that I can pretend it's all for me if I'm caught.
I cover the entire tray with cloth to hide the contents and quickly make my way back to the elevator with my head held high. For the first time in my life I'm grateful that I'm described as 'not so bright' — it will sure make it easier to feign ignorance about my actions if need be.
It's only when I'm on the freezing, underground level that I release a breath I didn't realise I was holding in a puff of smoke. The tray is shaking in my hands and my heart is racing from excitement, not fear, for once.
Who knew being sneaky was so thrilling?
Heading into my room first, I fill up the large pitcher with cold tap water from my bathroom and quickly move back down the corridor, passed the steel doors that require some maneuvering since I'm holding a rather heavy tray, and back to the shifter men.
"Guess what I have?" I call out in an exhilarated sing-song voice, feeling rather proud of myself and my daring theft.
I place the tray on the ground and remove the cloth with a flourish.
"Apples!" Evan calls out.
I toss him one that he captures easily and almost bites into.
"Wait." I hear Jacob call out. It's frustrating to not be able to see where he is. "I want to see you finish a piece of fruit first, little maid. See if you're trying to poison us."
"Wouldn't you be able to smell the poison?" I retort sharply.
"Yes. Amuse me anyway."
I pick up another piece of fruit from the middle of the plate, and with exaggerated carefulness bite into it. When my stomach growls lightly at the taste I quickly finish it off.
"Satisfied?"
"No, but it will do."
With that Evan devours his own apple almost in seconds. Starting at his cage, at the very left, I give him a piece of bread and an offering for meat that he staunchly refuses, and some water. Going to each of the men I repeat the process, dividing up the remains in my head to make sure there's enough left for everyone, but it seems I don't need to bother. No-one takes more than their fair share. If anything, they take less than I expect and instead try to pass it off to one of the others.
It's only when I reach Jacob and his group that they refuse the food offered.
"We don't need anything from you," one of the men grumbles. Lucas, I think it was. He's one of the only white men in there, the majority of them have the same look as Sam and I wouldn't be surprised if they were all Quileute.
I try to give food to all of them but Sam's the only one who weakly accepts the glass of water when offered.
Grumbling, I move to Jacob's cell and hold out the plate. He stares at it for a moment.
"Mr. Black... Jacob, please just take something to eat or drink so the others follow suit. They need to keep their strength up, and so do you."
"They can eat from your hand if they want, I haven't said a word to stop them."
"You know they defer to you," I whisper, although whispering in front of them is a pointless endeavor. With their hearing they'll hear every word. "Please, show them it's okay. That they can trust me."
"They can't trust you," he bites out hard. His silhouette seems to expand. "I do not trust you."
"You said you could trust my body's reactions, why don't you trust me now?"
"Women oftentimes have trouble with violence and don't like the sight of blood. It doesn't mean they don't think the injured didn't deserve it."
"That's too many double negatives but I don't think any of you deserve any violence or pain. Does it smell like I'm lying to you? You don't have to completely trust me," I implore. "You just have to let me help."
Jacob breathes in a ragged, deep breath and very slowly he extends a hand out to pick up some of the bloodier looking meat on the tray. I hear him chew the meat with exaggerated loudness and suddenly, just like that, the others are hungry and calling out for some food and water.
"Thanks," I mouth to him.
Well, what do you know. Score one for the little human girl.
And when I drag in my mini electric heater from my room to theirs, in an attempt to warm up their cages an hour later, I could swear he inclines his head to me in the barest of nods.