Page 27

Chapter 26

Zach

Merci's screams rip through the air like shattered glass, each one tearing at something inside me. The confined space of the closet amplifies every sound, every ragged breath, every desperate cry. He's spiraling fast, and every instinct I have screams at me to fix this.

To make it stop.

So, I do the only thing I can think of.

I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling his back flush to me, my lips pressing against the shell of his ear. "Merci, focus on my voice. You're safe. I've got you."

His legs kick wildly, his body twisting as he tries to break free. His head snaps back and connects with my already bloody nose. Pain flares—dull and distant but there. But I don't loosen my hold.

"Let me out!" His nails rake down my forearms and draw blood. "Please, Daddy. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

He’s screaming for a ghost, for the bastard who put this fear in him, who broke him. My stomach twists with something I can only guess at. Something close to rage, helplessness, guilt.

His biological father may be dead, but the man’s shadow is suffocating my little scorpion.

"Zach!" Connor's voice carries through the door. "We're trying to get it open!"

"Hurry the fuck up!" The usual flat tone of my voice cracks due to the pressure building in my chest.

Merci kicks at the door, so I spin him around so we’re chest-to-chest to stop him from hurting himself even more.

He continues to jerk and twist, fighting with everything he has. Each blow, each scratch, each desperate attempt to escape—I take it all. Let him unleash his panic against me because right now, I'm the only thing keeping him from completely shattering.

"Little Scorpion." I force my voice to be steady, controlled—the complete opposite of what’s raging inside me. Every fiber of my being screams to destroy the fuckers who triggered this, who dared put their hands on him. "I need you to breathe. Just breathe."

He screams again while clawing at my skin, tearing into me like he's trying to break through a barrier between us.

"Connor!" My voice booms with an urgency I rarely display. "Get this fucking door open!"

“Working on it! Just hang on! ”

Hang on.

Like it’s that fucking simple.

I tighten my hold on Merci, pressing him harder against my chest. “You’re safe, Little Scorpion. No one’s going to hurt you. I won’t let them.”

His body trembles violently against mine, each shudder like a blade twisting deeper into my heart. The guilt is crushing, suffocating—because I understand now. I understand what I did to him that night five years ago.

"Almost got it!" Someone shouts.

The door suddenly swings open, and I blink against the flood of light spilling into the tight space. Coach Harper is the first one through, Henneman is right behind him, his wide-eyed gaze locking onto Merci.

“Help get them out of there,” Coach orders.

Henneman steps forward, reaching for Merci, his hands tentative as he tries to pull him away from me. The growl that rips from my throat is deep and primal, a sound I barely recognize as mine. “Don’t fucking touch him.”

Henneman flinches, holding his hands up as he steps back. “Okay. Sorry.”

I gather Merci into my arms and carry him into the hallway, then set him down on the ground, his back against the wall.

Eli appears beside us, his face pale as he rubs Merci's back. "Breathe with me, okay? In and out. Nice and slow. "

Merci's breathing is still erratic, but his screams have quieted to whimpers. His hands are a mess of torn skin and blood, and his right eye is swelling shut from where that fucker hit him.

"He needs a hospital." My tone is once again mechanical and detached, like I'm reporting stats after a game instead of discussing my boyfriend's critical situation.

Boyfriend.

The term settles in my chest, heavy but right.

"You need one too." Coach Harper gestures to the bleeding claw marks on my skin.

Merci angles his head and looks at my chest, the color draining from his face as he stares at the damage. "No, no, no—"

I grab him when he twists in an attempt to get away, then drag him back against me. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He lets out a broken sob, his entire body trembling once more as he fights against my hold, weaker this time, like he’s running out of fight. “Let me go.”

“Not happening.” My arms stay locked around him, steady and unyielding. I press my chin to the top of his head. “I’m not letting you go.”

As he begins to settle, I finally take in my surroundings. It’s a fucking war zone. The carnage left behind is . . . impressive. One of the frat assholes is slumped against the wall, his jaw hanging at an unnatural angle, his eye swollen shut. Another is lying on the floor, cradling a bloodied arm twisted at a grotesque angle, bone sticking through the skin.

Jackson stands over the third—the guy whose wrist I broke at the party. When jackass tries to get up, my friend kicks him hard in the back. Then Jackson steps on the back of the guy’s neck. “Move again, fucker. I dare you.”

Coach Harper places a hand on my shoulder. "Campus security's on their way. Let it go, Knight. Cameras probably caught enough of the fight."

My jaw clenches so hard that my teeth might crack. It’s not enough. These fucks deserve to die.

But Merci needs me more right now. “I need to get him to the hospital.”

Viktor approaches, car keys jingling in his hand. "I'll drive."

Coach helps me stand as I continue to cradle Merci against my chest, refusing to let go even for a second.

Merci burrows into me, face pressed into my neck, each shaky breath warm against my skin. This fierce, bratty force of nature who challenges me at every turn, who refuses to bend for anyone, now feels so small.

Fragile.

And vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache to the point I can’t catch my breath .

Viktor jogs ahead to grab his car, then meets us at the entrance to the ice rink. I settle Merci into the backseat, adjusting the seat belt over his trembling frame as gently as possible.

For once, my emotions aren’t tangled or fractured. They’re crystal fucking clear and painfully simple.

Merci is mine.

And I’ll burn the fucking world to keep him safe.

Because I love him.

It's not a question. Not a sensation to analyze or a concept to process through my damaged brain. It's a fact, as undeniable as gravity, and as certain as ice beneath my skates.