Page 19

COLE

Z oey’s blue eyes are the last thing I see before the taser strikes again, lighting up my body with pain.

Her eyes still burn into my mind when cold metal cuffs clamp around my wrists, and rough hands drag me from my cell. Their grips are bruising, but that’s the least of my worries. Their boots scuff against the concrete while they shove me down the dark corridor.

I don’t fight. I don’t resist. Even when they slam my face against the large door before leaving the cell block, I still don’t say a damn word.

They’re already furious, and that’s exactly how I want to stay. Focused on me, and only me. A few bruises and a bloody nose are worth it if it keeps the heat off of her.

I’m forced to shut my eyes when I’m thrust into the blinding, shitty fluorescent light outside the cell block. This is the first time in far too long that I’ve been out of the darkness. It takes a little while to adjust, but they don’t want to give me that time.

The air turns stale the moment they haul me into a small room. The stench of mildew and sweat clings to the cracked walls, stained with years of neglect. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting erratic shadows that crawl across the floor like specters.

Eugene stands near a window at the far end.

His back is rigid with his arms clasped behind him.

The tension radiating off him feels like a storm that’s about to break.

He’s talking to Avery, the man who carried Zoey back to her cell earlier.

She had said he helped her when Eugene tried to get her.

Their conversation halts when the dregs push me forward and force me to stand beneath that weak, flickering light.

Was the world always this fucking bright?

Avery is the first to look at me. His dark eyes drag over my face with something like intrigue. Whatever serious conversation he was having with Eugene is now forgotten.

One dreg clears his throat. His eyes shift from side to side as though he wants to be here almost as much as I do. “Uh, boss, about the knife we found.”

Eugene turns around with his face a mask of icy rage. His nostrils flare and he sets his cold, calculating stare on them. “Explain.”

The dreg swallows hard. “It was thrown into the rotter’s head. Saved the girl.”

Eugene’s jaw tightens, but my attention shifts to Avery. For a fraction of a second, a flicker of something hot flashes in his expression before he smoothes it over with feigned indifference.

Eugene crosses his arms and presses his lips into a thin line for a moment before speaking. “Where, exactly, did this knife come from?”

The dreg stammers, “We don’t know. This one had it.” He shoves me forward another step.

Before Eugene can speak, Avery’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade, sharp and biting.

“They tell you this man saved the woman you’re obsessing over, and your first concern is how he got the knife?

” His lips curl and mockery laces his tone.

“Way to show your appreciation. I’d be more concerned with what he had to save her from, but maybe that’s just me. ”

Eugene’s face darkens, and his nostrils flare again. No wonder they’re so damn big. They’re always flaring like a bull ready to charge. Maybe I should find a red cloth before they throw me back into the cell. “Give me a chance to question him, will you? Stay quiet, or get the hell out.”

Avery’s fingers twitch near the gun strapped to his belt, but he forces himself to relax, though the intensity with which his jaw clenches looks painful.

There’s something off about the tension between them, something deeper than the usual power plays of men like this.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like the most hated person in the room.

Eugene’s gaze snaps back to me and narrows with barely contained rage. He studies me in silence, as if trying to decide how much pain I deserve for existing. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and venomous. “A knife thrown. Near her.”

I meet his stare without flinching. “She’s fine, by the way. You’re welcome.”

He’s not welcome at all. In fact, that knife should be embedded in his gut right now. I drop my gaze to his stomach and imagine the handle protruding from his flesh, slick with his blood.

“She’s fine?” he repeats, his tone sharp enough to cut. His boots clink against the floor when he steps closer. “She could have been killed.”

“Yeah, by the rotter your men let loose in her cell while she was sleeping.”

His gaze flicks toward the dregs on either side of me, but the true fury, the lethal kind, simmers only in Avery’s expression. “I see,” Eugene says, his voice colder than before. “So my men decided to play a little game with my property. ”

I grit my teeth, but I can’t keep the words from spilling out. “She’s not your property.”

The punch comes back. Eugene’s fist slams square into my jaw with enough force to snap my head to the side. Pain explodes across my skull. My feet stay planted, but before I can straighten, his knee drives into my ribs with sickening force. A crack reverberates through my chest and I stagger.

Eugene looms over me. His grin widens as he watches me struggle to breathe. “I wonder,” he muses, his tone almost thoughtful, “just how far you’d go to protect her.”

I force myself to stand upright, exhaling slowly through the pain. Fire burns in my ribs. “From you? Far enough.”

For a split second, something flickers in his expression.

Uncertainty and hesitation. I take a small, grim satisfaction in that.

Then it’s gone and replaced by seething anger.

His turn is sharp, and he redirects his wrath toward his men.

“And you,” he snaps, “you thought throwing a rotter into her cage was a good idea? Which one of you came up with this bright idea?”

The dregs stiffen on either side of me. One of them clears his throat. “We thought it would scare her, is all. Maybe scare the others, too. They were getting too comfortable.”

“She’s only a prisoner, after all,” the other adds.

Well, I see not everyone got the memo about Eugene’s obsession. This will be fun.

Eugene moves fast. He grabs the dreg by the collar and slams him against the wall. “She’s mine. Do you have any idea how much trouble I’ve gone through to get her here? How much she’s worth to me?”

The dreg’s face drains of color. “Boss, we didn’t?—”

“Shut up.” Eugene shoves him away before turning to the other.

“Stay here. Both of you. I’ll deal with you personally.

” Then he jerks his chin to whoever is standing outside the door.

“Mars, get him out of my sight,” he snaps, gesturing to me.

“Clean up the rotter’s corpse in Zoey’s cell before she gets infected.

If she does, then I’ll hold you personally responsible. ”

This Mars guy doesn’t need to be told twice.

Pain ignites through my ribs when I’m dragged out and forced down the corridor. My vision wavers, but I keep my face blank. I don’t give them the satisfaction.

“Look, I don’t know what you did, but there’s enough trouble around here already.”

I look up at Mars. He’s tall with black hair and even blacker eyes. “The only thing I’m guilty of is protecting those who can’t protect themselves, and I’ll do it again and again, no matter the outcome.”

He looks down at me with surprise. “That’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

He pauses for a moment to think. “The complete opposite.”

“Nah, man, your boss has got that position covered.”

He continues dragging me throughout the building without a word, but his grip is less bruising.

Right when I’m about to take my chances to kick him and run, two more dregs join us.

The pain in my ribs cries out too loud to be able to keep up with their conversation, and I don’t even notice when we’re engulfed by the darkness again.

The cell door creaks open, and I’m shoved inside. The impact sends me to my knees, with my hands still tied behind my back. I hit the floor hard. The impact jars my already aching body. For a moment, I lie there, breathing through the pain.

“Cole.” Zoey’s voice is soft but urgent, and I look up to see her fingers clutching the bars of her cell. Seeing her still alive and unharmed makes this all worth it. “Are you okay?”

I roll only onto my back and stare up at the dark ceiling.

Really, though, I could stare at the wall, at the other wall, at the floor, at the back of my eyelids.

It’s all the same. The only hard part is willing my body to breathe through the pain.

It isn’t numbing like I’ve trained it to do.

“I’m fine,” I grunt, though my ribs say otherwise.

“You’re not fine,” she argues. “They shouldn’t have. It should have been?—”

“Don’t say you,” I cut her off.

Across the corridor, Damon’s voice rumbles through the dark. “What happened out there?”

I let out a slow breath. “Eugene.” I cough and then wince when the motion jolts through my ribs. “He’s pissed at those idiots more than me. Lucky break.”

Zoey looks like she’s battling relief with guilt on her face. Then she whispers, “Thank you.”

I turn my head and meet her blue eyes shining right at me. They’re the only light in this entire damn place. “You’re welcome, sunshine.”

The sharp, familiar jingle of keys snaps me out of my haze. I glance toward the corridor and my body tenses when the lock on Zoey’s cell clicks open. My pulse hammers. Two dregs step inside.

My fists clench behind my back while I watch them drag her out of her cell. I’m about to cause an uproar and refuse to let them take her again, but they don’t take her away. Instead, they open the door to my cell and shove her inside.

Shock courses through me. I barely have time to process this before they slam the door shut and she stumbles. She crumples, but she catches herself. The lock clicks into place, sealing us together in the darkness.