Page 36 of The Boy I Loved (Eternal Hell #1)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DOMINIC

I saw it the moment our eyes locked—betrayal, agony, a flicker of confusion, and finally, defeat. She was here because of me. I did this, and now it was too late to save her. My stomach twisted with guilt, a feeling I’d become well acquainted with over the years.

Everything seemed to slow down. The chatter around me ceased to exist, fading into the background like some dramatic movie. But this was no movie; it was a living nightmare. One that I’d created and roped my best friend into—the girl I loved, the girl I swore to marry one day.

Tristan’s voice sliced through my thoughts, and it was only then that I realized he’d been talking to me.

“What are you looking—” I realized my mistake as soon as the words fled his lips, but it was too late.

He followed my gaze directly to Hazel, a low whistle fluttering past his filthy mouth. “Damn. That’s the new girl, huh?”

I wanted to strangle him, to watch the life flicker from his eyes for looking at what was mine. She was too good for this world, too good to be wearing that skimpy outfit for all eyes to see, and definitely too good for me.

My eyes drifted to Stacy, seated beside her.

The marks on her back, shoulders, chest, and stomach had rage bubbling up within me.

If he ever hurt Hazel like that … I wasn’t sure what I’d do.

Probably get myself killed if I was being completely transparent.

To my knowledge, nobody had touched her yet, but once the doctor cleared her…

No.

I couldn’t allow myself to think like that; it would only drive me crazy.

Nicholas shot me a look, one that looked a lot like a warning.

I’d never explicitly stated what Hazel meant to me, but it had become clear that I hadn’t been as subtle as I’d initially thought—as I tried to be.

If I had, none of this would have happened.

If I’d just let Mason fuck her at that stupid party, none of this would have happened.

Hazel would still hate me, but at least she’d be safe.

I couldn’t protect her anymore. Not here. Not with so many eyes on me. If I tried to interfere, I’d get us both killed, or worse.

“Have her results come back from the lab yet?” Tristan asked casually, leaning against the wall beside Nicholas.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, but I didn’t allow a sliver of emotion to cross my face. “No,” I replied.

“And don’t go fucking her before they do,” Nicholas chimed in. “Clay says this one’s special.”

Tristan scoffed in response, glancing over at the object of my obsession again. “She doesn’t look special,” he commented. “She’s got a nice body, but in the end, all bitches are the same—no pussy more special than the last.”

I should have been relieved he thought that, but the way he spoke of her …

I was seconds away from saying ‘fuck it’ and smashing his face into the cement wall.

Hazel Montgomery was and would always be special.

She had a heart of gold, something that was rare nowadays, and she was always kind—never selfish.

She was everything good, kind, and pure wrapped into a single body, and on top of that … she was beautiful, too .

I forced my shoulders to relax and offered him a casual shrug.

If he knew I was the least bit interested in her, assuming nobody had filled him in already, he’d go for her just to spite me.

Tristan enjoyed competing with me, and until now, he’d never come close to getting under my skin.

But with Hazel, fuck. He might have just succeeded with that once he figured it out.

He and Mason were a lot alike in that way.

It was weird to think that Mason used to be one of my closest friends.

Clay had changed him—this place had changed him.

He wasn’t just the troubled boy looking for sanctuary and a place to call home anymore.

He was out to destroy everything in his path, to take his anger out on anything in his way, including his friends if the option presented itself.

He was so far gone that I wasn’t even sure he was redeemable any longer.

“I need a smoke break,” Tristan announced after ogling my girl a few seconds longer. “You two want to come?”

“If we all go, who’s going to watch them?” I gestured around the room with a sweep of my hand, emphasizing my point. Leaving post wasn’t worth getting reprimanded over, especially not when it came to spending more time than I wanted to with Tristan of all fucking people.

“I’ll keep watch,” Nicholas offered, capturing my attention. “If something happens, I’ll buzz you.”

My teeth scraped together in annoyance, but before I could think up another bullshit excuse, Tristan was clapping me on the back of my shoulder and pushing me in the direction of the back door.

I’d get Nicholas back for this. I didn’t know how or when, but it would happen.

When we made it outside, I lowered myself onto the bench, spreading my legs out in front of me.

Tristan fished out his pack of Marlboro Reds and offered me one before taking one for himself.

I had my own cigarettes but didn’t bother telling him that.

Instead, I snatched the lighter from my own pocket and lit it, letting the thick plume of smoke fill my lungs.

“I heard about what you did to Stacy,” I commented, blowing the smoke out around me through the statement.

I never cared for Stacy much, but what Tristan did to her … it was brutal. Surely, he knew he’d crossed the line. From what I’d heard, her only crime was being too loose for him. Mason had fucked her, and he hadn’t been too put-off about it.

Tristan huffed a small laugh, amusement crinkling the corners of his light blue eyes. “That was too much, wasn’t it?”

I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. “It was no worse than what a lot of the men in here do to the women,” I admitted.

“Women,” he repeated. “That’s such a humane way to refer to them.” He took a slow pull of his cigarette, flicking the ashes on the ground before meeting my gaze again. “I prefer sluts or whores. They aren’t people here, Dom. You need to remember that.”

“That’s where we disagree, I suppose.”

The thought of anyone referring to Hazel in such a derogatory way had heat spreading through my veins like a current of wildfire.

I might not have been innocent. Viewing them as objects helped me cope with some of the vile things I was forced to do, and sometimes, I did it just because.

Maybe I was no better than the assholes around me.

“I knew you weren’t built for this place a long time ago,” he explained, the words rolling off his tongue with a sharpness that told me he meant it as an insult.

“You were always too emotional —too compassionate. Clay said you’d learn eventually, and maybe you have somewhat, but underneath it all…

” he trailed off, gesturing toward me with a wave of his hand.

“You’re still that same, scared little boy, aren’t you? ”

The fact he thought those words affected me was almost laughable.

I took Stacy because I w anted to. I wasn’t forced to do that.

I’d done equally bad things, but there were some lines I hadn’t crossed—some lines I’d probably never cross.

I’d do anything if it kept Hazel and Alice safe.

That was what he failed to understand. Compassion wasn’t a weakness.

It was a strength many people didn’t possess.

He could believe whatever bullshit story he wanted to.

I had no interest in proving him wrong. Guys like Tristan, guys like Mason and Vincent, maybe even Nicholas …

they hurt people because they wanted to, because it offered them power.

They enjoyed the feel of taking a weak girl against their will, and I’d admit, sometimes I did, too.

I was a monster just like the lot of them, but if I had another option, if I’d been granted a way out, I’d take it.

They wouldn’t. That was the fundamental difference between us.

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “This life isn’t for everyone.”

His lips twisted into a cocky smirk, almost as if he’d won some grand prize by getting me to admit that. “I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette again, causing a series of gray ashes to tumble from the cherry.

“I’ll always admit the truth,” I confessed. “Would you?”

He seemed momentarily taken aback by my question, his dark eyebrows tugging together in confusion. “There’s nothing for me to admit,” he said at last. “I’m an open book.”

Maybe. But I had a strong feeling that wasn’t entirely true. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, especially in this line of work. What secrets was Tristan hoarding? Were there things that kept him up at night? Or was he completely lost to his blackened soul? I had to admit I was intrigued.

After we were done smoking, I went back inside to an empty cafeteria.

My shoulders slumped with a mixture of relief and sadness.

On one hand, I was glad Hazel wasn’t in here anymore.

I couldn’t stomach anymore of those looks she’d tossed my way.

On the other hand, I wanted to see her—to know she was untouched and wasn’t being harmed.

Tristan started for the door, the one leading to the elevators .

“Where are you going?” I queried.

He barely spared me a glance over his shoulder. “To check in with Clay. He told me to stop by after dinner.”

It always made me feel some type of way when Clay and Tristan got together, like they were scheming under everyone else’s noses.

I knew it was just my paranoia talking. Tristan was no more special to Clay than Mason, Vince, and Nicholas were.

They all worked seamlessly together, making me the odd man out—not that I minded.

I’d rather be alone than turn into the monsters they had.

It’s too late for that.