Page 171 of Hymns of the Broken

Ice pours through me. “That was you?”

“I watched you with them,” he says, like it’s a confession he’s proud of. “Laughing. Fucking. Letting them orbit you like they had a right. They were in the way.” His hands brace harder, thumbs digging into my skin until I can’t think around the pressure. “I couldn’t let you leave. Not when you were going to disappear into another city where I might lose the chance to take you.”

The mask tilts, black eyes swallowing the light. “So I made sure no one left. I paid someone who owed me,” he brags. “An arsonist. Small. Contained. Smoke and sirens. Just enough chaos to keep you here.” A gloved thumb drags slow over my inner thigh, a brand I can’t shake. “Just enough time to take what’s already mine.”

“You’re insane,” I choke, wrists burning against the cuffs.

“No.” His voice drops to a quiet that feels like prayer. “That’s what it takes.”

I don’t reply. My throat closes up, breath shuddering, teeth biting down hard on a sob. How could I have been with him as long as I was and not see any of these signs?

His grip gets tighter, his hands sliding roughly up my bare thighs. I try to twist away, but the chains only bite deeper, metal burning against my skin. I can’t hide my panic—my breath stutters, heart hammering so loud I can barely hear anything else.

He leans over me, mask only inches from my face. His voice is thick with jealousy and hate. “You likebeing ruined, don’t you? You let those boys take turns with you. Jasper and Riot—letting them think you belong to them?”

His hand digs into my thigh, thumb pressing hard enough to leave bruises. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting tears.

He presses closer, his breath hot behind the mask. “Bet you begged for it. Bet you loved every second. Did they make you scream, Sawyer? Did you let them mark you?”

Hegrabs my jaw, forcing my head back to him, the metal of his glove cold and sharp against my skin.

“Look at me,” he growls. “I want you to remember who had you first and who’s going to have you last.”

He runs a gloved finger up my thigh, sliding the hem of my shorts higher, fingers pausing at the waistband. “You’re mine, Sawyer. No matter who else has touched you. You always come back to me.”

Every touch makes my skin crawl. But even as I shake with terror and humiliation, I bite down the scream and force myself to stare into the mask—into the black holes of his eyes—silent, shaking, but unbroken.

And in this moment, I don’t need to see his eyes. I don’t even need to see his face.

“You always come back to me.”

The words dig in, twisting, trying to take root. I breathe in and out slowly, forcing the name past my lips. “Blake.”

The mask freezes—I can feel the shock ripple through him, the twisted pleasure that I figured it out. He laughs as he tips his head as if giving a slow, mocking bow. “Took you long enough, princess.”

I stare up at him, rage and terror battling in my chest. “Why?” My voice is ragged, thick with disbelief and betrayal. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

“What I’ve always wanted. You. All of you. Not the parts you give away to those idiots you think can protect you. The parts that belongs to me.”

His fingers dig into my thigh, possessive and cruel. “You should have stayed. You should never have run. Every second you were gone, every time you touched them—I watched. I waited. But now? Now you’re exactly where you belong.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “You don’t own me, Blake. You never did.”

He laughs again, unhinged and wild. “Oh, Sawyer… you’re wrong. I always did. And I always will.”

He straightens, letting go of my leg with a final, bruising squeeze. He circles the bed, every step deliberate, every breath a threat.

“You want to be free?” he taunts. “Prove you deserve it. Scream for them. Scream for all the heroes you think are coming. Let’s see if they get to you before I break you for good.”

And with that, he slips out the door; the mask lingers in my vision long after he’s gone.

I’m left shivering, humiliated, but more determined than ever.

I breathe out, tasting blood from where I bit my tongue to keep from screaming.

If this is the last fight I have in me, I’m not letting him win.

RIOT