Page 178 of Hymns of the Broken

He presses his thumb into the cut, forcing a sound from my throat. “Do it again, and I’ll fucking carve my name right above this pretty cunt. Let everyone see who you belong to.”

Tears spill over, hot and silent, mixing with the shower water. The humiliation burns worse than the cuts.

Blake groans like my tears turn him on. “Yes, baby, cry for me. I love it when you cry.”

His gripclamps around my thigh as he lifts my leg over his shoulder, leaving me stretched and exposed. The pain in my wrists, the sting of blood, the way my body trembles—it all blends into this raw, horrible vulnerability.

Then his mouth is on me, tongue hot and relentless, trying to rip pleasure from my body like it’s his right to have it. I bite my lip until I taste blood, willing myself not to react.

But my body is cruel. My nerves fire no matter how much I hate it. I hate that my back arches, that my legs shake. I hate him for every second of this.

I force my mind away. I try to think of anything—of Jasper’s hand on my throat, Riot’s grin as he whispers against my skin.Thisisn’t real.Thisis just pain, just survival.

But he’s not them. He never will be.

A bitter, broken laugh escapes my chest before I can stop it. The sound is harsh, wrong, like it’s tearing out of me. I can’t help it—I’m laughing. Shaking. Because he’ll never have what they had. He’ll never have me, no matter what he does.

Blake jerks back, eyes wide, rage twisting his face. He stands, fists clenched, water dripping off his body like fire.

I don’t care, not for that split second.

Even chained and bleeding, I’m still mine.

JASPER

It all happens in a heartbeat.

Macee’s on the phone with Blake’s parents, pacing, voice shaking so bad she almost drops it. Then, suddenly, she stops. “Yeah, hi, Mrs. Lewis… No, I just—have you heard from Blake? You haven’t? Do you have any reason to think he’d be in Midnight’s Edge?”

She listens, eyes flicking to all of us, and then—like fate handing us a lifeline—the words slip out. “There’s a cabin. A few towns over. The cabin belongs to his cousin who was previously part of the F.B.I.”

So many things start to make sense as to how he was able to pull this off.

An address is rattled off.Sherepeats it, writes it onherpalm in smeared pen, then hangs up. The room goes dead silent. Even the air seems to freeze.

It takes everything in me not to scream. Instead, I stand—shoving the table back so hard it rattles the floor.

“Nobody calls the fucking cops,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “Not yet. Not until I have my hands on him. I want this motherfucker alive.”

The place erupts. Ash and Jace move first—boots, weapons, bags. Dex grabs his bat. Riot’s shaking, jaw set, but he’s laser-focused, rage behind his eyes. Micah’s already at his laptop, stuffing cables and drives into a backpack. “I’ll jam the property. Any sensors, cameras—he won’t even see us coming.”

Jace grabs the truck keys. Ash double-checks the magazines for the Glock he stole from the bus. Dex is muttering to himself, knuckles white around the handle of his bat.

Macee stands, tears tracking down her cheeks. “Bring her home,” she whispers. “Please.”

I cross the room and grab her shoulder, just for a second—because if I stop, if I break, I’ll never start again. “We will. Stay here. Phone with you. Doors locked.”

She nods, wiping her face, but she doesn’t look away.

Micah slings his backpack over his shoulder, voice tight. “Let’s fucking move.”

We hit the driveway running, piling into cars, the address burning a hole in my mind. Riot’s in the passenger seat next to me, fists clenched, staring out the window like he’s memorizing every mile. The others are right behind.

For the first time since she was taken, something hot and alive beats in my chest—hope, rage, a promise: We’re coming, Sawyer. Hold on.

SAWYER

The shower pounds down, hot and relentless, turning the air thick and steamy. I’m still hanging from the hook, wrists numb, legs trembling, my whole body stinging from the fight.