Page 6 of A Thousand Cuts

Cane barked out a laugh.

“Cane!” Fix growled.

“Calm down, Papa Bear. I didn’t exactly do this on my own. Ares is very stealthy. You don’t have to worry about your little twink. He has no idea he’s been found.”

Fix had no idea if that made it sound better or worse. But he knew he’d take it.

“Check your email,” Cane said before hanging up on him.

Fix pulled his tablet close, opened up his email and clicked on the document attached. It brought up a limited amount of information, but it was enough.

Enough for Fix’s heart rate to finally settle into something manageable again. Enough for the voices in his head to stop screaming at him for messing up the way he had. Enough for him to live up to his name and fix his own mistakes.

Liam.

His name was Liam.

Chapter 2

Liam

Something had him by the neck.

He could feel his lungs burning even in his sleep. He fought against the feeling, arms struggling to listen to his brain as he tried to lift them high enough as panic set in.

Vicious barking sounded, deep and bassy, and something started scrabbling against his side.

Liam’s mind was still sleep-hazy and unfocused, but the survival instinct was strong in him. Always had been. He pushed his fingers between his neck and whatever was wrapped around it, tugging as he gasped for air. He managed to loosen the hold enough to gulp in some oxygen before his arms gave out and the chokehold intensified again.

The barking grew in volume and then something else was tugging at the constriction for him, sharp yanks along with the sound of tearing fabric and growling.

His eyes snapped open and all traces of sleep left him as his dark bedroom came into view. The stained, spotted ceiling, the bare walls, his camera in the corner, and then the muscledshadow of King next to him. The pit bull had the whites of his eyes showing as he tried his best to help him.

The fabric ripped in half from King’s strong jaws and Liam lurched upright, coughing and gasping for air as he scrambled from the bed to the floor. King whined and followed, butting into his space and nosing at him in concern before sending a couple more growls and barks toward the bed.

Liam wrapped King’s stout body in his arms to soothe him as much as take comfort for himself, running his fingers over his short white coat. He could feel his rapid heartbeat under his ribs.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay,” he chanted hoarsely as he stared over at the ripped beige fabric that was once the scarf he’d tossed over his bedpost because he was too lazy to hang it up, which now lay inert and innocuous on the bedsheets.

Like it hadn’t just tried to get him in a chokehold.

As the panic began to ebb with the slowing beats of his heart, he sighed. He could feel that his neck was already tender, but at this point, it was becoming scarily easy to normalize what had just happened.

“Another one to add to the list,” he mumbled.

He got up from the floor, and King jumped up at him, pawing like he wanted him to stay down and protected under him.

He cupped King’s large head, stroking his thumbs over his jagged ears. “It’s okay, my King. We just need to get rid of it.”

The digital clock on his bedside showed it was approaching seven in the morning.

He grabbed his robe from the dresser and slid it on over his naked body as he walked to the window to open his curtains for some light.

Only he’d forgotten something important.

The fabric was like iron under his fingers and wouldn’t give an inch no matter how hard he pulled, or in what direction.

“That’s right.” He gave a humorless laugh. “They got cursed closed last week.”