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The door opens, and Jace steps inside. “What now, boss?”

I don’t hesitate. I know what needs to be done now. “Get the others. We need numbers on our side before we make a move. Lock up anyone who refuses. Shove them all into Zoey’s old cell if you have to.”

“And Eugene?” He hesitates. “He’s becoming more erratic.”

My jaw tightens. “Leave him to me.”

A strangled noise makes me turn my head to the side. A rotter claws at the glass, its milky eyes locked on me, and a slow grin stretches across my face.

30

ZOEY

The long wooden table stretches before me with a lavish display of roasted meat, baked bread, and fresh vegetables laid out like some grotesque celebration feast. It looks almost civilized. Like something out of a world that no longer exists, but I know better. This isn’t a reward, a surprise, or a gesture of goodwill. This is a performance, and I’m about to witness a show that I know I’m not going to like.

I dread to find out what kind of performance requires me to wear an emerald green floor-length gown. Unbeknownst to him, I’m still wearing my shorts and t-shirt underneath, which makes me feel a little more comfortable in the most uncomfortable moments of my life.

The chairs line up perfectly on one side of the table, facing a raised platform in the center of the room. The side of the table is empty. I guess we won’t be having guests with us.

Eugene guides me to sit in the middle before pulling out a chair beside me and settling in with a satisfied sigh, as though this is just another normal evening for him. “You’ve earned a front-row seat,” he says before plucking up hisknife and slicing into the meal on his plate with slow, precise movements. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

My stomach twists into knots, but I don’t touch my plate. Eugene notices right away, and without hesitation, he reaches over with his knife to cut my meat into neat, bite-sized pieces, as if I’m some helpless child. His elbow brushes against my chest and lingers long enough that I know it’s intentional. I fight the urge to grab the knife from him and plunge it into his dick.

“We have a big night ahead of us.” His tone darkens, turning the statement into something closer to a threat. “You’ll want to eat.”

My fingers tighten around the fork with reluctance, and right when I stab at the mashed potatoes, the double door swing open, and chains rattle.

My fork tilts and mashed potatoes and gravy spill onto the soft emerald green dress, but I barely notice, because of the three figures being led inside with their wrists bound in thick metal cuffs.

The air leaves my lungs and the world tilts.

Cole comes first. His shirt missing puts the bruises and darkening ribs of his lithe, muscular frame on full display, and my stomach clenches. I know exactly how he got them.

Damon is next. Exhaustion is written all over him, with his body tense. His stringy dark hair falls into his eyes. His breath comes out slow and controlled, but I can see the weariness in his brown eyes, though he doesn’t look at me yet.

Then Benji. I see his face for the first time now that it’s not obscured by shadows. His light red, strawberry blond hair that’s overgrown from captivity and pulled back in a bun that I never expected him to have. I’ve known his voice, his laugh, his touch through the bars, but this is the first time I’m truly seeing him, and it destroys me. Especially when he looks straight at me, and there’s nothing inhis beautiful hazel eyes when they should light up the room.

The light I always imagined in him is gone, replaced by something shattered, haunted. A hollowness that makes something inside me fracture.

Eugene curses and yanks the fork from my grip. “Do you have any idea how many people I had to kill to get that dress?” His voice doesn’t register. Any words coming out of his mouth pale in comparison to the three of them.

Lola lets out a low whine from where she’s tied to a table leg beside me.

Eugene leans in and speaks with a gleeful purr. “You saved Damon once. So I figured, why not change things up?”

My pulse hammers. “What does that mean?”

He gestures toward the platform in front of us where his men are arranging poles and tightening ropes. It almost looks like a wrestling ring, except for the addition of long metal chains hanging from the ceiling outside the platform. “Why, a fight, of course. A little entertainment while we eat. A test of survival.”

“No. You promised.”

Eugene’s knife halts mid-cut and he tilts his head at me. “Oh, little lamb. I kept my promise. I said I’d let them out of their cells. You assumed that meant full freedom. That’s on you, not me.”

I should have known. Of course, he would twist his own words. Manipulate the truth.

Guilt crushes me, and I gasp for breath, causing Damon to halt in his tracks. The dreg leading him shoves him forward, and he stumbles, but then catches his balance.

I shift my gaze across the three of them where they’re now chained to large metal rings in the ceiling outside the platform. My stomach twists painfully at the bruises on Cole’s body and knowing I failed to protect him the way heprotected me. I saved them from being thrown to the rotters, but instead I threw them to an even bigger monster.