Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ronan

The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual noise—voices rising and falling like an angry tide, trays clattering, and the distant hum of guards trying to keep everything under control. But today, the air felt thicker. The teasing, the jeering—it all felt heavier, sharper.

I could already feel their eyes on me before I even stepped through the door. The same group that had been picking at me all week, whispering behind their hands, grinning like wolves waiting for a stray animal to wander too close. I hated it. Hated how they made me feel so small, how their words cut deeper than I ever wanted to admit.

I tried to ignore them, to walk past their tables with my head down, but I could already hear the snickers. I could feel their gazes like a heat against my skin.

“Hey, look who’s here. The pretty Coin Slot,” one of them said, his voice loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.

I kept walking, pretending I hadn’t heard. Pretending that it didn’t make my skin crawl. But it was no use.

“That’s right, Lap Leach. You gonna give us a show today?” another voice, deeper this time, sneered from across the room.

I didn’t even look up. I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

But it didn’t stop. They were all leaning in now, their eyes hungry, their grins widening as I passed by their table. I could feel the heat of their stares, feel the weight of their words pulling at me like a magnet.

“How much to strip off all that orange, baby, huh? Bet you’d make a killing in here,” one of them shouted.

The others laughed, a sound that scraped against my nerves.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, my hands clenched at my sides, but I kept walking.

Just get to the table, just get through this.

Then, one of them, a tall guy with tattoos snaking down his arms, stood up and stepped into my path. I halted, the tension in my chest growing tight like a coil. His eyes were dark and cold, and an unmistakable smirk played at the corners of his mouth.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy? You gonna leave us hanging?” He reached out, his fingers brushing against my arm, tracing my tattoo there, but the way his hand lingered sent a wave of disgust through me.

I jerked back instinctively, a reflex more than anything.

“Get your hands off me,” I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady, but my words were shaky, the fear rising in my throat like bile.

The guy didn’t seem to care. He stepped closer, crowding my space and forcing me to take a step back.

“What’s the matter? You used to this, huh? All that attention on you, all those eyes on you in the club. Do you really think we can’t see through you? You’re nothing but a fuckin’ toy for everyone to play with.”

The others around him laughed, egging him on. One of them whistled, and another made a crude gesture with his hands.

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, and I could feel the heat of panic rising. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to give them any more of a reason to hurt me. But it was getting harder to hold back, harder to swallow the shame that they were pouring over me like cold water.

“Leave him alone,” a voice suddenly cut through the laughter.

I turned toward the voice, blinking in surprise. A few tables down, I saw Marco, one of the guys I’d talked to a few times. He was staring at the group now, his face hard.

“Yeah?” the tattooed guy said, not backing down, his eyes flicking from Marco to me. “You got a problem with it?”

Marco didn’t flinch. “I said, leave him the hell alone.”

For a moment, it looked like it might escalate, the tension thick in the air, but then the guy just laughed, throwing his hands up. “Whatever, man. It’s all good. Play with ya toy.” he said, stepping back and looking me over once more with that predatory grin.

I breathed out, but the relief didn’t last. They were still watching me, still sneering. Marco stood there for a few more seconds, ensuring the other guy backed off before he turned to me.

“You all right?” Marco said, his voice low.

I nodded, though it didn’t really feel true. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything else. He just gave me a small nod before heading back to his seat. I stood there for a moment longer, feeling the eyes on me, my hands still trembling, before I walked to my table as quickly as I could, my heart still racing in my chest.

I didn’t sit down. I couldn’t, not with their eyes still on me. I moved to the counter, grabbed a tray, and walked back to my seat. I could feel their gazes following me every step of the way, and it made my skin crawl, but I tried to ignore it.

Sitting down at the table, I picked at my food, not really tasting it. My mind was somewhere else far away, where the laughter didn’t echo in my head, or the teasing didn’t cut through me like a knife.

But no matter how far away I tried to go, it was always there. The humiliation. The shame. The way they saw me. The way I felt, like I was nothing more than a thing, an object, to be used and discarded.

And even though Marco had stepped in, I knew it wouldn’t stop. The whispers wouldn’t stop. The mocking wouldn’t stop. Not in this place.

Not ever.

Marco held a hierarchy. It was evident in the way people shied away from his gaze. He was a massive dude, covered head to toe in tattoos and holes where piercings were once. He walked over and sat down at my table, not saying anything to me, just scooping the mystery surprise into his mouth in silence.

I didn’t say anything, either. I was happy that the jeers had stopped, and felt peace for even a moment because of his presence. It was the first time since being here that I felt like there wasn’t a gauntlet over my head.

It was wishful thinking…but had I made a friend?

The hallway was dim when I left the cafeteria, the lights flickering as I returned to my cell. The sound of my boots echoed in the silence. It was late, and most of the inmates were either in their cells or the rec area by now.

I had actually stayed long enough to sustain myself as best I could on the damn sludge. I hadn’t eaten well in weeks and was starting to lose muscle mass. I didn’t need to feel weak in this hell. The guards were sparse, just a few in the distance chatting to one another or occupied on their own devices.

I was halfway to the corner when I felt the shift in the air.

Dammit…I thought I could make it through the night without incident.

I should’ve known better.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I turned just in time to see them—three of them, stepping out of a side hallway, blocking my path back to the cells.

I didn’t recognize them immediately in the dim lighting, but their eyes were familiar. Cold. Hungry. Dead.

“Look who we caught,” one of them said, a sneer pulling at his lips. “Our lucky night. Pretty boy thinks he can just walk around like he’s better than the rest of us.”

I swallowed, my pulse already spiking. My instinct was to back off, retreat, and pretend like I didn’t hear them or that I hadn’t seen their eyes following me around every corner. But there was no easy way out of this. Not in this place.

“Move,” I said, trying to make my voice sound firm, but it was shaky, betraying the fear I couldn’t control.

Ghost Hand didn’t move, and neither did his posse. Instead, he stepped closer, and the others followed, flanking me on either side. The hallway felt smaller as if the walls were closing in, as if there was no escape, no way out.

“You don’t get to walk away,” he said, his voice low, like a growl. “Not this time. We want a dance, Mister Pole Pirate, and we’re gonna fuckin’ get one.”

I could feel my throat tightening and my breath coming faster. I didn’t want to show fear. I couldn’t. Not again. But the weight of their presence and the way they were closing in on me was suffocating. My chest felt heavy, and my legs felt like they might give out from underneath me.

“Please,” I whispered, almost to myself, but they heard it.

“Please what?” another one of them mocked, his voice dripping with contempt. “You think we’re gonna let you go just because you asked? You don’t get to make demands here.”

I took a step back, bumping into the wall behind me. My eyes darted around, searching for any sign of a guard, any way out. But there was nothing.

No one was around.

No one was coming.

Another guy grabbed my arm, pulling me forward, his fingers digging into my skin with bruising force. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic rhythm that drowned out everything else. I struggled, my body fighting against his grip, but I couldn’t break free. I was too fucking weak.

“Let go of me,” I hissed, voice trembling. But he just laughed, spit flying in my face with his foul breath.

“Why don’t you stop fighting? You know you like the attention. You were always the pretty one, huh? You’re too good for us out there…but in here? In here, you’re our little blow-up doll.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch him, shove him off me, and run as far as I could, but I knew it wouldn’t matter. I was trapped. I was always trapped.

My stomach twisted in knots.

I thought of Elias, of the way he’d looked at me the last time we saw each other. He wouldn’t want this. He’d want me to fight, to survive. He always said I was stronger than I thought. But right now, I didn’t feel strong. I felt weak. Helpless.

“You’re a goddamn joke,” the guy continued, dragging me further down the hallway, pulling me away from the small chance of escape. The others laughed behind me, their voices mingling with the sound of my own panicked breaths.

And then, just as I was about to give in to the terror that was rising in my chest, the last thing I expected happened. A voice rang out down the hall, sharp and commanding.

“Hey!”

The guys froze, their eyes darting to the sound of the voice. And just like that, they released their grip on me, letting me stumble back, breathless and shaking. I barely had time to react when I heard the footsteps approaching quickly, boots pounding on the concrete floor.

A guard rounded the corner, his eyes immediately locked onto the situation. His hand went to his side, ready for whatever came next.

“What the hell is going on here?” the guard barked, his voice carrying down the hall.

The guys exchanged glances, their smirks slipping as they quickly backed off, muttering something under their breath about “Not causing trouble.”

The guard didn’t say anything more as he approached me, his eyes scanning me briefly before he turned his attention back to the men. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. I couldn’t look at anyone, not after that.

I stood there for a moment, frozen, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. The fear still clung to me like a weight in my chest. It was never going to stop. Not here. Not in this place.

I had thought I was stronger, that I could handle it, that I could get through this. But now, standing alone in the quiet hallway, reality hit harder than I could have prepared for.

I wasn’t just trapped by the walls of this place. I was trapped by everything that came with it: the fear, the humiliation, and the constant threat of violence. It was always there, lurking just around the corner.

And there was nothing I could do to escape.

The guard’s eyes roved over me suddenly, and he kept his body in front of me, blocking the way to the hallway, back to safety. My heart sank when his eyes lit with glee, and he smiled at the others.

“Good catch, boys,” he said, and the group of men preened like fucking peacocks. “You gonna dance for us, boy?” he said to me, using his baton to jerk my face toward him. “Or is that something you only do for your Little Priest?”

My breath caught in my throat at the mention of Elias, and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, unwilling to show them a reaction from me.

Elias. I am so sorry.

The hard baton was pushed into my shoulder, making me stagger on my feet. The men grabbed at my body, using my limbs like a puppet for their enjoyment. I felt sick, nausea bubbling as they swayed me back and forth and laughed at me.

“Look at the little Glitter Goblin. He’s a bit rusty, Tex. Maybe he can’t dance in all these clothes.”

Nausea increased, tears stinging my eyelids as the jumpsuit was roughly yanked off my body. They didn’t stop. My muscle shirt was gripped with large, rough hands, and pulled so hard that it left cuts on my skin where the fabric resisted.

I could laugh at the feeling of peace I had earlier tonight. The bubble of hope I held onto that this wouldn’t be so awful after all, but the group’s mindless grasp and the echoes of laughter confirmed this was nothing but true hell.

“That’s what you’re workin’ with? Ha!” the cop said, gripping my dick in his hand and holding it for the men to all laugh. “I can’t see why a priest would break such precious vows for that thing.”

I let the tears fall freely down my face. No matter what I did, there was no hiding from the shame and their cackling. What did it matter?

“Maybe he’s a grower!” one of the men shouted, and that sinking feeling was more like lead.

The men took turns fondling my body, jerking my skin into painful angles, shoving me down, and mounting my body when I struggled against them. I was locked under the officer. His large form was suffocating as he sat on top of my stomach. The others were holding me down by my arms and legs. I was kept immobile while the man with the badge worked my dick with his hands.

Horror and shame made me ready to vomit when my body responded, standing erect despite my mind screaming, ‘No!’

The cop laughed harder at his achievement, poking my appendage with his weapon and egging the others to join.

“Please,” I said, my voice a panted betrayal of the pain and humiliation. “Stop.”

The cop let go of my sex, turning his fat body around on my torso to sneer at me. “What? You think you’re too good for us? Is that Priestly Boy better? How big is he? Maybe I can do ya a favor.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. His eyes were swirling with excitement, his own erection poking into his pants. He stroked his baton lovingly, and that wicked smile became even darker. “Open up like you do the dumb fucks who paid you to, boy,” he said, and without warning, the baton was shoved deep into my mouth.

I fought against his hold, pulling with all my might at the men restraining my arms above my head.

“There ya go. Good boy. Nice and wet, yes.”

More tears fell as I choked on the weapon shoved so deeply into my mouth. It cut the corner of my lips, and still, he pushed it further in. I couldn’t breathe, and I prayed for a minute that I would just die. I didn’t want what was coming next.

As easy as a fucking pancake, I was flipped onto my stomach, the men working harder to hold me down. I fought with everything I had. Struggled, and squirmed on the ground, trying to get to the hallway where someone would see me and stop this.

Or maybe they would join in.

I shut my mouth, realizing there was no freedom. No way to get away. I was…

The pain of the baton was like a sharp bullet entering my body. I panted, unable to adjust to the foreign object. I could feel the warmth of blood and shook as it spilled down my thighs. The laughter continued, and I vomited on the ground. I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. The pounding that continued was too much, and my body gave out. I couldn’t fight anymore. I couldn’t run.

I was numb, my body releasing my shame and pain onto the ground, coating my stomach and creating another round of loud cackling from the men around me. I stared at the wall across from me, away from the sea of monsters, and thought of Elias. Of his lips and how sweet he tasted in that snow-filled forest, it felt so long ago that he was in my arms. I was able to feel his warmth on my skin.

I don’t feel warmth now—only the coldness of their laughter and the complete feeling of numbness.

The men’s satisfied, mocking, and cackling continued even after they stood up from my broken body. And long after, they left me in a shallow pool of my own blood and shame. It was an echo in my ears that remained in my mind as the sounds were bouncing inside my skull like a ping-pong ball. I tried to erase them, tried to think of Elias. Before the darkness took over, I saw Elias’s smile in my mind. His beautiful mouth whispered to me.

I love you, Ronan. It’s okay now—just sleep.

And I did.