Page 9

ZOEY

T he sharp clang of boots against concrete shatters the heavy silence. Each step is slow and deliberate.

Dread settles over me, and I push myself upright. I try to steady my breathing, inhaling through my nose and forcing my pulse to slow.

Calm. Stay calm.

I’ve come to dread the sound of boots down the hallway. Nothing good ever happens when dregs are near.

Three figures emerge from the darkened corridor.

They appear in the faint light that reaches the edge of my cell, their silhouettes stretching long across the floor in front of them like the monsters they are.

The flickering overhead bulb casts an eerie glow over their faces, and my stomach churns when I recognize the first one. The bastard with the busted lip.

The same one who’s visited me twice before, who shoved me into the bars and got Damon’s fist for his lunch. His sneer deepens when he walks, and a deep purple bruise spreads across his jaw from where Damon hit him.

The second man is unfamiliar. He has a gaunt face, hollow eyes, and moves like he’s merely bored, dragging his feet like this is another errand ruining his day.

But it’s the third one that turns my blood to ice.

I don’t need to see his face, because I already know. The confident swagger. The way his gaze rakes over me like I’m already his. Like I never stopped being his. That look is burned into my memory.

A whimper lodges in my throat, but I swallow it down. I press myself against the back wall to try to make myself disappear into the shadows. The slivers of light filtering through the barred window betray me, illuminating my trembling hands. I can’t hide from them.

The first dreg steps forward, and he smiles. Probably thinks my body is reacting to him, but truth is, he can’t hurt me as much as the other one.

“Morning, sweetheart,” the first dreg drawls when he stops in front of my cell. His grin is smug and full of venom. “Miss me?”

I don’t answer. I can’t, even if I want to. My gaze is locked on him. The third dreg. He watches me in the same way a predator enjoys watching its prey freeze in fear, knowing there’s no escape. His smirk deepens, and my knees feel like they could give out at any second.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” the third one murmurs. His voice is smooth and mocking. The voice from my nightmares. “Thought you could run, little lamb? Thought you could hide?”

He grips the bars and leans forward close enough that I can smell the faint traces of blood on his clothes mixed with sweat and filth. The same as the last time I was this close.

“You know, I almost gave up looking for you.” His head tilts, and something dark gleams in his gaze. Something dark and possessive. Enjoyment. “But I don’t like loose ends. And you?” His fingers tighten against the metal. “You’re mine. ”

The room tilts. My breath hitches. I curl inward and wrap my arms around my middle as if that might shield me from his words. From him. From the memories.

His grin widens, and his voice drops to a near whisper. “Drew didn’t think so, though, did he?”

My heart pounds so hard that it might as well stop. The air leaves my lungs.

“Shame he had to learn the hard way.”

His words hit me like a physical blow. It might as well be a punch to the gut and a vice grip around my ribs, squeezing tighter and tighter until I can’t breathe.

His words wrap around me like chains, dragging me back to that night.

The fire. The screams. The drop of blood at the corner of his mouth when he looks at me one last time.

My lungs struggle to expand, and I wheeze, trying to get air while I fight to keep the tears from spilling over. He doesn’t say it outright, because he doesn’t need to. He knows clear as day that I understand. I was there. I saw what he did to Drew when he dared to defy him.

“Leave her alone.” Damon’s voice is low and dangerous. Metal clanks when he grips the bars of his cell.

The dreg, Eugene, turns toward him with a raised brow. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a protector now, huh?” His smirk sharpens into cruel amusement. “Cute. I know exactly how to deal with those.”

I press harder against the wall, trying to stay small. Invisible. The last thing I want is for Damon, or anyone, to get hurt because of me.

Not again.

“Hey,” the second dreg pipes up in a bored tone. He flicks a glance at me, then points with a lazy finger as though the motion is too much for him. “She’s dripping blood all over the place. Boss won’t like it if she croaks too soon. ”

The bruised dreg chuckles. “Good point. Don’t want her falling apart before we get what we need.”

Eugene looks angry. Not at me, but at them. “I’m the boss now, and I’m the one who gets any say in what happens to her.”

Confused, I look down. Blood. I turn my hand over and see it’s coming from where Benji took out the glass shard. The wound must have opened back up when I dripped the bars too hard. Another drop falls to the floor.

“What about?—”

“Me. We’ve been over this.” Eugene shuts up the lazy one, but I don’t care. My stomach churns. I keep my expression blank, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction, especially when the bruised one doesn’t stop leering at me.

“We’ll send someone along to fix you up,” Eugene says, his smirk returning. “Can’t have you breaking on me, now, can we?”

“Can I fix her up?” the bruised one adds.

“No, Greg,” Eugene snaps. “I thought I was going to punish them for what they did to you, but now I see you deserved it for what you tried to do to what’s mine.”

“But—”

“Get out of here before I lock you inside the cell with him.”

The three of them turn to leave, but the bruised one, Greg, hangs back for a moment and looks over his shoulder at me to whisper low enough that Eugene can’t hear. “Don’t go anywhere. We’ll be back.”

They leave a suffocating silence in their wake, but it’s nothing compared to the pounding in my ears and blurry vision that I have going on right now.

“Zoey.” Damon’s voice is sharp enough to cut through the haze of fear clouding my mind.

I don’t move, and I don’t respond. Instead, I stay pressed against the wall, trembling, trying to hold myself together, even as I unravel piece by piece.

“Zoey, talk to me,” he tries again, his voice gentler now but with an edge of desperation. The metal bars clang when he grips them. I feel his stare burning into me, but I don’t look over at the darkness that envelops him. “Who was that?”

My throat is too tight. I shake my head and croak out, “No one.”

“Don’t give me that,” he snaps, and his frustration boils over. “You were fine until he showed up. What did he do to you?”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Fine is subjective,” I croak out. Then I whisper, my voice barely audible. “He didn’t do anything to me.”

“Bullshit.” Damon slams a hand against the bars, and I flinch. His boots scrape against the concrete as he takes a step back. “How can I help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on?”

I shake my head. “I don’t need your help.” My voice is smaller now, breaking apart at the edges. “None of you should help me. It’ll only get you killed, too.”

“Too?” Damon echoes. The word hangs between us when I don’t respond.

Benji speaks up, but his usual humor is gone. “Hey, c’mon, golden girl. We’re all stuck in this hellhole together. We look out for each other. Whatever happened to sticking together?”

I glance toward his voice and blink back the burn of tears. The words stick in my throat. How can I explain this? That man alone is the reason why being captured by dregs was always my greatest fear.

There’s no way to explain all of that. I can’t say it out loud, because if I do, it’ll make it real. Then I might as well eat that candy and drink the juice myself .

“Zoey.” Damon says my name again, quieter this time. “Please.”

Benji pleads, too. “Come over here and let me see you.”

Even Cole moves, but he doesn’t say anything. He only watches me, his green eyes unwavering.

I shake my head and bury my face in my arms. “Leave me alone. Please.”

A loud thud rings out, like someone hitting the wall, but I don’t look up to figure out who. I can’t look up. Can’t move. Can’t breathe. The silence that follows is heavy, and I feel eyes lingering on me, but nobody says a word.

I squeeze my arms tighter around myself, trying to hold everything together, trying to stop falling apart.

Tears slip down my cheeks. My mind races with every memory of my brother flashing behind my closed eyelids.

The way he fought for me, the way he died because of me.

And now, the man who took him away is here, and I’m trapped with him more helpless than I’m ever been before.

The tears fall faster, silent and unstoppable. I clutch my arms tighter, but I still fall apart piece by piece. Only this time, no one can possibly pick up my broken pieces.