Page 15

DAMON

P ain sears through my skull the moment I regain consciousness. It turns into a dull, throbbing ache that pulses behind my eyes.

My limbs feel heavy and sluggish, like I’ve been buried under a thick layer of concrete. My stomach churns with the lingering bitterness of whatever the bastards drugged me with. My tongue feels dry and thick in my mouth.

Then it hits me. Zoey. She has her hands all over me, but I’m not sure if I imagined it.

My muscles protest when I push myself upright and scan the dimly lit space beyond my cell.

The shadows stretch long and cold, flickering under the weak clouded sunlight that barely illuminates this godforsaken place.

The scent of damp stone, sweat, and rot lingers in the air, and that’s not only because of the rotters on the other side of this wall.

Then I see it. Or, well, I don’t.

Zoey’s cell is empty. The sight punches the air from my lungs.

No.

I lurch forward and grab the bars with both hands. My fingers curl so tight around the metal that pain shoots through my knuckles. “Zoey!” My roar shatters the silence and echoes off the stone walls, raw with panic.

Nothing. No response. No movement.

“They took her.” Benji’s voice is hoarse and groggy, like he’s been struggling through the same drugged fog.

I hear him shift around in his cell, struggling the same way I was moments before.

“The bastards laced her food. She must’ve known, ‘cause she faked being unconscious when they came for her. Cole saw it happen.”

My gaze snaps toward Cole’s cell. He’s nothing more than a shadow in the dark, but green eyes pierce through the void. “You let them take her?” Fury and helplessness coil inside me like a beast clawing at its cage.

Cole doesn’t move. He’s eerily still until his hands slam against the bars. The sharp rattle sliced through the silence. “What exactly did you expect me to do?” His voice is as cold as the steel trapping us. “Walk right out of here and stop them?”

I grit my teeth, and my breath comes in ragged bursts. Panic and rage tangle inside me like barbed wire, tightening and cutting deeper with every second that passes. They took her.

They took her, and I was unconscious. Fucking useless. I don’t even know where she is, or what they’re doing to her. I was out cold, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

My grip tightens, and my fingernails bite into my palms when I slam my fist into the bars. The impact reverberates through my bones, but I don’t stop. Again and again, I strike the unyielding metal, my vision blurry with red-hot fury.

Zoey.

Something about her changed things. Maybe it was the fire in her, the way she refused to break when she had every reason to, or the way she made me remember what it felt like to want something. To want more than mere survival.

I can’t go back to the cold, empty days before her. I want her freedom more than anything, but not without me there by her side to protect her. They could be doing anything to her right now. All the worst-case scenarios fly through my mind.

“Where the hell is she?” I bellow. I’m completely losing my shit now, and I don’t care if they hear me. Let them come.

And they do.

The sound of boots on concrete is my answer. They move down the corridor at a slow pace. A single dreg who I haven’t seen before steps into the dim light. His smirk is carved deep into his face, like he knows something I don’t. Smug little shit.

He’s a thin fella, not built for real fights. One of those guys who relies on cruelty and power instead of skill. That’s perfect. I can tear him to shreds without a problem.

He approaches Zoey’s empty cell and then a second man, the one Zoey and I bruised up a decent bit, steps forward and unlocks the door.

The first man stands there and inspects her cell.

He doesn’t say anything. All he does is stand there and look around the cell and then up at the barred window.

I can’t figure out what his angle is. There’s nothing in there but that bucket.

“Are you finally going to bring her a cot and blanket?” I ask.

The thin man ignores me. He keeps staring at nothing.

I pound my fist against the bars to get his attention. “Is she even coming back?”

The man walks out of her cell and disappears back down the corridor. The second one doesn’t follow.

My favorite walking bruise waits until we’re alone and then turns to me with growing amusement. “Someone’s awfully loud this morning.”

“Go to hell,” I growl, my voice a snarl. If he hurt her, no bars on this earth could keep me from getting to him .

His lips curl back, and he pulls something from his belt. I don’t need to see it to know what it is. “You wanna keep yelling?”

I don’t get the chance to answer before a sharp crack fills the air and pain explodes through me like fire, white-hot and electric.

Every muscle in my body seizes up and my knees buckle as a strangle gasp rips from my throat.

My vision blurs. My limbs twitch uncontrollably as I crumple to the cold floor.

The fucker tased me.

I grit my teeth and try to fight against the convulsions wracking my body.

My muscles feel like they’re tearing apart, and my breath comes in uneven gasps, but I force my eyes open.

Through the haze, I see him standing above me.

His smug grin widens when crouches down with the taser still in his grip.

“See, this is what happens when you get too loud.” He gives the taser a lazy twirl in his fingers. “I suggest you keep your voice down next time, yeah?”

I swallow down the bile rising in my throat and glare at him. Somehow, I force words through my clenched teeth. “Go…to…hell.”

His grin doesn’t falter. “You’re in no position to be handing out demands around here.” His voice drips with mockery. He turns and strolls away, leaving me gasping for breath on the cold concrete.

I don’t know how long I lie here before I hear footsteps. There are two sets, heavier and faster than before.

My body protests when I push myself upright. The lingering effects of the taser leaves my limbs weak and sluggish. My head throbs and my vision swims, but I push the dizziness aside and grip the bars with renewed desperation .

Then I see her.

A dreg steps into the dim glow of Zoey’s cell window, carrying a limp figure in his arms.

Zoey.

My stomach lurches. Her tangled golden hair falls over her face, half shadowed by the faint moonlight. Her arms dangle lifelessly at her sides. Her bandaged hand stands out as a stark contrast against her pale skin.

The dreg holding her pauses in front of her cell and he adjusts his grip.

When he glances down at her, his expression shifts in a way that confuses me.

I’ve seen dregs sneer, mock, and hurt, but the look on his face?

It isn’t cruelty. I would almost call it caring, but that can’t be right.

These bastards don’t feel things. Yet, the way his arms tighten around her, and the slight crease in his brow as he watches her, it’s not the look of a man handling cargo.

It’s something else. Something I don’t fucking trust.

“Avery,” a voice calls from the corridor. I recognize Eugene’s slimy tone. My muscles lock up.

The dreg holding her, Avery, glances toward the voice and his face shifts from something unreadable to ice-cold indifference.

“I need to have a word,” Eugene continues. He sounds impatient. Angry, even.

Avery doesn’t move. His grip on Zoey doesn’t loosen. His voice comes out flat. “Later.”

Metal clanks when my fingers curl around the bars so hard that I almost expect them to crack. I stare at Avery’s face, a contrast to the warmth that was there a moment ago. That’s interesting.

Avery isn’t just another dreg. That much is clear, but I don’t know what that means yet.

“Here, let me take care of her.” The second man, who I recognize as Jace, the one who bandaged her, steps forward. Zoey is passed from one set of arms to another, and for half a second, I swear Avery hesitates. Then Jace turns and carries Zoey through the open door of her cell.

My relief is brief because then stumbled and tosses her inside like she’s nothing more than a sack of trash. Her body hits the cold concrete with a sickening thud, and something in my chest cracks open, sharp and hollow. “Shit, sorry.”

“You son of a—” Before I can finish, Avery moves lightning fast. He shoves Jace hard against the bars of Zoey’s cell. Metal rattles loud in the dead silence from the impact. Jace sucks in a sharp breath.

Avery leans in close, but his voice is too low for me to catch the words. Whatever he says, it’s enough to drain the color from Jace’s face. His jaw clenches and his shoulders tense. The moment Avery steps back, Jace doesn’t say a word. He locks Zoey’s cell and leaves.

Avery, however, he lingers. His gaze flicks back to her. For one second, his jaw tightens and his eyes fill with longing. Then he turns and disappears down the corridor and his footsteps fade into the silence.

Once they’re gone, I don’t waste any time. “Zoey,” I rasp. My voice cracks.

Benji stirs. His voice is equally desperate. “Golden girl.”

I reach through the bars, straining to get closer to her. Panic claws at my throat when she doesn’t move, but then I see it. The faint rise and fall of her chest. She’s breathing.

“Zoey, wake up,” I plead. My fingers stretch out as far as they can go, but I still can’t reach her. “Come on, blondie. Open your beautiful blue eyes.”

A small sound escapes her lips. Her head turns and her lashes flutter. Relief crashes through me so hard and fast that I could collapse. Then her eyes open.

The blue is unfocused at first, hazy. Then they find me through the darkness around me, and something inside me settles, though my hands still tremble.

She blinks and her lips part. “Damon… ”

My exhale is so sharp that it hurts my throat, but I don’t care. “You scared the shit out of me,” I mutter, my voice rough with emotion. She’s turned her head enough for me to reach, so I run a hand through her tangled hair. It’s a mess. “Don’t ever do that again.”

A faint smile tugs at her lips. “I’ll try.”

“Get over here,” I command.

She drags herself forward, moving closer without question until she’s within reach.

I need her closer, to make sure she’s alright. To hold her, in whatever way these damn bars will allow. I press my forehead against the bars. My breathing is still uneven. “I never thought captivity could feel so cold and dark…until I woke up and you were gone.”

“Damon…” Her head tilts forward to touch mine. She’s warm. Alive. The bars between us feel like a cruel joke.

The distance between us is unbearable, but I hold on, with my hands tangling in her hair at the back of her head. She radiates heat. Her lips are so close and her breath so soft against mine. Before I can think, I close the gap.

The kiss is soft, desperate, and full of every unspoken thing between us.

The cold metal bars presses against my face, but I hardly feel it.

I only feel her. To my surprise, she kisses me back.

Her warmth bleeds into me and grounds me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

Her fingers clutch onto me like she doesn’t want to let go.

I’m breathing hard when we pull away, but I don’t want to let go, so I press my forehead to hers again and don’t let go. My voice shakes. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“You were worried?”

A short laugh escapes me. “I was out of my fucking mind, blondie.” She turns into my touch when I brush a knuckle along her jaw. “I can’t lose you.”

She pulls back. Not fully, but enough to look at me straight on. “I wish I could see you. ”

An idea hits me. I grab her hand and lift it to my face. First, I run her fingers over my hair. “Hair is stringy and dark, a lot like my soul.”

She huffs. “Someone who gives up their blanket for a sleeping stranger is hardly someone with a dark soul.”

I swallow hard, then close my eyes and guide her fingers over them. “Brown eyes,” I say.

“Let me guess. Also dark like your soul?”

“Like you said. Maybe my soul isn’t as dark as I’d thought.” I open my eyes to watch her in time to see her breath hitch.

She licks her lips and reaches her other hand through the bars to continue the tour on her own. I stand still and let her ravish me. “Nice cheekbones and a strong jawline. You feel beautiful.”

I tip my head down to press my lips against her palm in a gentle kiss. “Not as beautiful as you.”

“Let me be the judge of that when I can finally see you.”

My lips freeze against her palm. I’ve fallen hard for this woman in such a short amount of time, and she can’t even see me. What am I doing?

Her hands swipe along my shoulders, my chest, and then my abdomen. “I’m shocked you’re in such great shape for the crap they feed you. Or maybe I’m the only one getting served slop.”

When she reaches the waistband of my jeans, she pauses and looks me right in the eye now that she knows where my face is. I grasp the bars with both hands and lean forward into her touch. “Exactly how well are we going to get to know each other, blondie?”

Her cheeks turn beat red, and I smile. What a pretty color on her.

I drag my thumb along her lower lip. “I’ll be honest with you, blondie.

You’re all I’ve thought about since they brought you in here, but I know you’ve got a whole life outside these bars.

I’ll be whatever you need me to be while we’re here in the dark, but once these bars are gone, you might not like what you see. ”

She holds my gaze, unshaken. “Why is that?”

I run my tongue along my bottom lip while I think over my words. “You’re too good for me.”

“Don’t you think I should be the one to make that decision?”

I pull my hand back, and hers falls from my hips in response. “Wait and see if I disappoint you first.”

“We’re going to have to work on your self-esteem, Damon. You’re ridiculous. I already trust you more than I trust most people, and that’s really saying a lot. Besides…” she reaches into her shirt and pulls out a small knife. My mouth twitches into a smile. “I didn’t come back empty-handed.”

I stare at the knife, caught somewhere between exasperation and admiration. “Of course you didn’t.” I shake my head. A low chuckle escapes me. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am.” Her smile widens despite the exhaustion etched into her features. “We’re getting out of here.”

For the first time in a long time…I believe it.