Page 20

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence while she stands there. Her shallow and uneven breathing is the only sound. The dim glow from the window in her cell barely reaches us here, but I can still make out the faint outline of her small frame shrouded in shadows.

She doesn’t move. “Cole?”

I swallow, but it’s like shoving sandpaper down my throat. “It’s me.”

My body is stiff, and my voice is rougher than I mean for it to be.

This is the first time someone has joined me in this darkness.

Of all people, it had to be her. I’ve watched her since the moment they threw her into this place.

I’ve memorized every movement, listened to every word, and watched every breath.

She’s been kept at a distance, and I’ve envied Damon and Benji for getting to see her, to touch her. To taste her.

Now she’s here, within reach, and my hands are cuffed behind my fucking back.

“Hold up,” a voice calls out, surprising me. I’ve been so preoccupied with this woman that I didn’t notice a dreg come back. He holds his finger upside down in the air and makes a circular motion. “Turn around.”

I do as he says and then a moment later; the cuffs come off and my hands are free. He’s already walking away by the time I turn around, but then my attention is back on Zoey again.

She takes a tentative step forward. The faint shuffle of her bare feet against the concrete makes my pulse quicken.

When her fingers brush my chest, I suck in a sharp inhale.

My skin prickles beneath her touch. Every nerve in my body flares to life.

Despite the darkness, her touch is light.

Hesitant, even, but it sent a jolt through me all the same.

“Does it hurt?” Her voice is a whisper. Featherlight but filled with concern. Her movements are slow. Her fingertips trail toward my ribs, over the spot where Eugene’s knee landed earlier. She pulls back when I wince. “I’m sorry.”

I catch her wrist before she can retreat. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t move. “It’s nothing,” I say, trying to sound dismissive, but the pain lingers. Still, I can’t let her turn away.

She hesitates. “Maybe I can help.”

My grip loosens around her wrist, and her fingers brush against my side again, softer this time. More careful. The tenderness of it makes my chest tighten for reasons that have nothing to do with my injuries. I’ll take a thousand more bruised ribs if they all led to this moment.

“You don’t need to do this,” I tell her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” she starts to pull away, but then she trips over my cot.

I reach forward to catch her, and land on top of her with one arm around her waist and the other pressing against the taut material of the cot to hold myself up so I don’t crush her. Pain shoots through me, and I grunt.

“What is it?” Her hands trail down my chest in search of something wrong.

“I think he bruised a rib.”

She slides out from beneath me and uses her hands against my shoulders to push me into a seated position until I’m sitting at the edge of the cot with my legs hanging over the side.

She pushes my knees apart and steps in between my thighs.

My body tenses. This isn’t a position she should be in. Not with someone like me.

“You should rest as much as possible. I know that’s easy to do in this place,” she lets out a strained chuckle, “but don’t go being the hero again anytime soon. Hey, can we get some ice in here?”

The question is directed at the dregs who are cleaning up the rotter corpse from her cell, like Eugene ordered. They only grunt in response, so I’ll take that as a no.

“You don’t need to do this,” I try again. My hands fall to her hips on instinct.

“I want to.”

“Why? ”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she explores me the way she had with Damon.

Her fingertips trace along the edge of my broad shoulders, skim over my wide chest, then map out the planes of my face like she’s memorizing me through touch.

Learning me. “Because I care. I don’t like seeing you hurt. ”

I squeeze her hips and push her back. Not much, but enough to breathe. This is too much. Too close. I want this, but I can’t. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m attracted to you like no other.”

Her thumb pauses along my jawline. “You’re sorry for that?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Cole, what is it?”

I force myself to say it. The truth that weighs on my chest heavier than my own damn ribs. “If you get too close, you might leave. That’s not something I think I can handle.”

There it is. My pathetic fear out there for her to know.

“Or…” her thumb continues along my jawline and to my cheek. “Maybe I might stay.”

The words slam into me like a punch I didn’t see coming. It hits me harder than Eugene’s knee did.

I push off the cot and force myself to stand. She takes a step back, but I catch her chin between my fingers and tilt her face up. For the first time in my life, I truly hate the dark.

The darkness has been my shield, my refuge. It’s hidden my fears and my past, but now? Now I wish for the light. If only to see the look on her face and those electric blue eyes.

I lean down until my lips are a breath away from hers. She tries to close the distance, but I stop her, holding her still. “You’ll leave. They always leave.”

“Who?”

I hesitate, but the truth is already there, raw and bleeding. “Everyone. ”

She doesn’t pull away like I expect her to.

She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she steps closer.

She lifts onto her toes and wraps her arms around my shoulders to avoid my ribs, pressing herself against me.

Her warmth seeps into me and her body molds to mine in a way that feels too right for this broken world.

Her lips are gentle when they press against my collarbone, and her breath chases the chill from my skin. My arms wrap around her, locking her in place, like I can keep her here even though I’m telling her to go.

“Well, I’m not everyone,” she whispers against my skin. Her words thread their way into every cracked, damaged part of me. “And you are worthy. You are worthy of everything this life has to offer.”

Her words hit like a freight train. I tighten my grip and bury my face in the crook of her neck. She’s right here, healthy and alive, and I need her to stay that way. I can’t lose this. I can’t lose her. She’s too important to this world. “I can’t give you normal.”

“Cole, I don’t want normal. I want safety. That’s something I’ve never felt until I was taken captive, and that’s only because of your three.”

My fingers dig into her back. “We’re getting out of here, Zoey.”

Her hands fist in the fabric of my shirt. “I know.”

I don’t know how long we stay like that, wrapped in each other, tethered in a way I don’t fully understand.

My ribs ache and my body is bruised and battered, but I don’t care.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel steady.

Anchored. It’s all because of this woman who can’t even see me yet makes me feel more seen than I’ve ever felt in my life.

A harsh beam of light slices through the darkness. Zoey jumps back. I hiss and recoil from the sudden brightness while raising an arm to shield my eyes. Before I can react, a pair of hands reaches in and yank her away from me.

“Zoey.” I lunge after her, but the cell door slams shut in my face. Metal grinds against metal when the lock clicks back into place.

“Time’s up.”

Zoey stumbles against the dreg who’s holding her arm in a vise grip. She blinks against the sudden intrusive light. Her head whips around and her electric blue gaze lock onto mine.

I growl low in my throat. My muscles coil with the urge to tear them apart.

The dreg holding her sneers. “Oh, don’t tell me cold, distant Cole caught a case of the feelings?”

I don’t respond. He’s right, though, but I’d rather rip out my own ribs than admit it.

The second dreg shifts while glancing around uncomfortably. He’s the only one I don’t completely despise. Not because he’s decent, but because he’s too skittish to be truly dangerous. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t like spending this much time down here.”

See, there’s the reason I don’t fully dislike him. That’s right, scurry on out of here.

“Fine, Casper. Let’s go.” The first dreg walks by him and disappears into the dark.

“It’s Caspian,” Caspian says in a whisper, then follows with reluctance.

The flashlight disappears. The door slams shut behind them.

Once again, I’m left again. Except for the ghost of her touch that lingers on my skin, warm and soft against the cold reality of this cell.