Page 22

DAMON

Z oey is pacing again, and it’s driving me insane.

Her bare feet slap against the cold concrete, and her sharp breaths cut through the heavy silence.

Her hands are curled into fists at her sides, and her shoulders are wound like a coil about to snap.

She’s been simmering ever since Eugene left, but now she’s on the verge of boiling over.

“Why didn’t you call out to her?” she snaps. Her voice rings through the corridor and bounces off the walls. “Emily was right there. She was right there, and you all…what? Stood there and did nothing?”

I lean against the bars at the front of my cell with my arms cross over my chest. Her anger crashes against me like a storm, but I meet it with unshaken calm. “Because you’d be dead if we did.”

She stops pacing and whirls around to face me so fast that she stumbles.

Her blue eyes burn with fury, and her clenched fists tremble.

“No, I wouldn’t have. Eugene’s not going to kill me so easily.

He went through too much trouble to find me and lock me up here.

If you had only called out to Emily, then maybe?—”

“Maybe nothing,” I cut her off. “Maybe he slits your throat right there. Maybe he lets you off with a warning and an ice cream cone. Are you willing to bet your life on that? Because I’m not.”

“It’s my life to gamble.”

“And it’s my choice what I gamble with.”

Her features soften, and a crack appears in the wall of anger she’s built around herself. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you would have made the same choice if the roles were reversed.”

Her mouth snaps shut, and I grin. She can’t tell me I’m wrong.

For a moment, the only sound is the distant groaning of the rotters outside. “I would’ve been fine,” she insists, though the conviction in her voice falters.

I take a step closer, letting my bare feet scuff against the stone so she can follow my movement in the dark. “You can honestly say you’re willing to bet your life on that? Knowing damn well that he’s capable of carrying out his threat to have your friend take your place?”

She opens her mouth, but I don’t give her the chance to argue.

“I don’t care about your friend,” I say bluntly. “And I don’t care how callous that sound, because it’s the truth. I care about keeping you alive, and that’s not something you can change my mind about.”

Her breath shudders, but her spine stays straight. “If he wanted me dead, then I’d be dead already. All he wants is for me to suffer. That’s all this is.”

I step right up to the bars now, mere inches away. Her head tilts slightly, searching out my position. She’s getting better at sensing me.

“Do you really believe that?” I ask, my voice lower now, quite even. “Then why did they drug your food? Take your insulin and feed you things to send you into a comma? Lock you in a cell with a rotter, unarmed? ”

She flinches at my words. The truth hits its mark. Her gaze darts away and her lips part, but no words come. She knows.

I let out a sharp exhale and shake my head. “He wants you under his thumb, Zoey, and the moment you stop being useful, you will be dead.”

She stiffens, then turns her head back toward me. Her voice comes out colder now, a layer of ice over the burning frustration. “Why are you even here, Damon? I know why I was taken. What about you? What did you do to end up in this hellhole?”

My jaw tightens when I look away. I hate this shift in conversation, but I answer anyway. “It’s my fault,” I say, my voice rough like gravel. The words scrape against my throat when I force them out.

“Damon,” Benji warns from his cell. “Don’t.”

Zoey’s eyes flick toward him before settling back in my vicinity. “Why?” The air between us thickens. Then, when no one answers, she shakes her head in defeat. “Oh, I get it. You demand to know my story and everything about me, but you can’t say a single thing about yourself.”

She sighs and leans her back against the wall, then stares down at her bare feet. Nobody says anything for a long time.

I keep my eyes on Zoey. Her hurt is palpable, but she’s right. I can answer this question while still protecting my friend. “There was a man. He wanted to hurt people. Innocent people. He recruited us, and we refused.”

“Damon,” Benji warns again, his voice sharper this time, but he doesn’t need to worry. I don’t mention him. That part is his story to tell.

Zoey blinks when confusion flickers in her expression. “You refused.”

I nod. “We don’t hurt people. That’s not who we are, but some people don’t enjoy hearing the word ‘no.’ So, he made an example of us.” I make a gesture to indicate the cells, forgetting yet again that she can’t see me. “Now here we are.”

Her expression softens. She studies the darkness that engulfs me, her beautiful blue eyes searching for me.

I reach out to grab the bars, making sure my ring taps against the metal, drawing her gaze.

The anger on her face fades into confusion.

“You’re here because you refused to hurt someone who didn’t deserve it? ”

“That’s right. That’s also why I took Eugene’s threat seriously. I won’t be the reason someone else gets hurt. Not again.”

Benji lets out a sharp breath of relief. I’d left out his involvement.

Zoey glances between our cells, her mind working through everything I told her. “Why would he just let you go?” she asks after a beat. “If you refused and wouldn’t even get in the way, then why keep you here?”

“Control,” I say. It’s simple as that. “Some people want power so badly, they don’t care who they hurt to get it. When they can’t get it one way, they take it another.”

Her arms wrap around herself, like she’s trying to hold in something too big to contain. “Yeah,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “I understand that. It’s pretty much the same with me.”

“The real kicker is that guy never came back. Eugene only keeps us locked up here solely because he can. He doesn’t even know why.”

She shakes her head, as if shaking away the thoughts, then lifts her gaze to me again. “I’m sorry for getting angry with you.”

“Don’t be.” I reach through the bars to cup her jaw and tilt her face toward me, her blonde hair falling down her back with the motion.

Her skin is warm beneath my fingers. Soft.

Alive. “Anger means you’re still fighting, and you need to keep fighting, blondie.

Stay alive to spite those who wish to see you fall, and never lose your fight. ”

She smiles. “I promise I’ll do my best to try.”

“Good, because I want you to know that I won’t be the reason you get hurt, no matter the cost.”

She doesn’t pull away. Her lips part, her breath shallow, as if she wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how.

I don’t give her the chance. I slip my hand behind her neck, my fingers threading into her hair, and pull her toward me.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her arms slip between the bars and wrap around my waist. She presses her body against mine as tightly as the metal barrier will allow.

I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the bars, then focus on holding her the only way I can right now, hoping that one day, there won’t be any metal bars to keep us apart.