74
Joe’s hand clamped down on my arm like a vice, yanking me so hard I thought my shoulder might dislocate. “Let go of me!” I screamed, my voice echoing in the small room as I twisted, trying to break free. But his grip only tightened, and when I tried to whip around, Alaric still in my sights, the cop pulled harder, wrenching me back like I was some rabid animal.
Pain exploded in my head as I slammed against the doorframe in the chaos, the sharp crack of my skull against the metal sending stars shooting across my vision. “You fucking dick!” I spat, my voice hoarse and trembling with fury. My head throbbed, my wrists screamed from the cuffs digging into my skin, and I thrashed harder, but Joe only pulled me like I was a rag doll, dragging me toward the hall.
“How could you?” I screamed at Alaric, my words dripping venom, each one hotter and sharper than the last. “You let Dane—” my voice cracked with rage, “you fucking let him go on TV knowing Vaughn was out there! You knew! And you didn’t do a fucking thing!” My body convulsed with the effort to fight back, but I might as well have been punching a brick wall.
I was crying now, the tears burning my skin, my vision blurring. My words turned into a vicious snarl. “Once I’m out of here, I’m coming for you first, Alaric! I’ll kill you, you selfish son of a bitch! You’re dead before Vaughn ever is!” The guttural scream that tore from me was so raw it scraped my throat bloody, but I didn’t care.
The hallway spun as Joe dragged me further, my head pounding so hard it drowned out the chaos around me. The fluorescent lights above flickered, glaring, stabbing into my skull. My chest heaved, the weight of despair and rage crushing my ribs. I tried to dig my feet into the floor, to stop the relentless pull, but it was no use. The cuffs clanged against the metal doors we passed, each sound like a hammer driving into my nerves.
“Fuck you!” I screamed, twisting again, my shoulders screaming in protest. “Fuck you, Alaric!” My voice cracked into a wail, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My heart was breaking, my soul was shattering, and the fury was the only thing holding me together.
Joe didn’t slow. He didn’t even flinch. And when he shoved me through the final door, I stumbled, my feet tangling beneath me. I hit the cold, filthy floor of the cell hard, the impact rattling through my bones. My elbow slammed into the cement with a sickening thud, the shock of it leaving me gasping as bile churned in my stomach.
I curled into myself instinctively, every part of me trembling uncontrollably. The air felt too thin, my lungs refusing to expand. Tears spilled down my face, dripping onto the grimy floor, and I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached, trying to suppress the anguished sobs building in my chest. But it was no use.
A scream ripped free from my throat, piercing the silence of the station. It was wild, broken, and feral. “Dane…” I choked out his name between the guttural cries, my voice cracking under the weight of my grief. My mind replayed his face, his smile, his laugh. The way he could never hurt anyone, the way he didn’t deserve any of this. My stomach twisted violently, and I clutched at my chest, hitting it with my fists as if that would make the pain stop.
Another scream tore out of me, this one louder, sharper, echoing off the walls. My throat felt raw, burning, but the agony didn’t lessen. “No, no, no!” I cried, curling tighter, my nails digging into my arms as I rocked back and forth on the cold floor.
The tears came faster, uncontrollable now, blinding me as they poured down my face and onto the cracked cement beneath me. My body convulsed, my breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps. I sobbed so hard I felt like I might suffocate, the weight of it crushing me into the ground.
I screamed again, louder, harsher, my voice splintering into a million pieces. My throat felt shredded, my chest hollowed out. Every scream was a knife twisting deeper into my heart. My tears pooled beneath me, soaking into the cuffs that bit into my wrists as I clawed at them, desperate for something—anything—to anchor me.
“Why?” I choked, my voice barely a whisper now, broken beyond recognition. “Why him? Why now? Why…” I couldn’t even finish the thought. All I could do was scream and cry and feel every single piece of myself shatter into dust.
For hours, I let the cries rip out of me, raw and guttural, until my body betrayed me. My chest heaved, my throat burned like I had swallowed shards of glass, and every limb quivered uncontrollably. The cold floor pressed against my feverish skin, but I didn’t care. I had no strength left. By the time night fell, I was sprawled on the cement, my body a trembling mess, every breath rattling in my chest. My head pounded with a rhythm so vicious it felt like my skull might crack open.
I was so feverish that even the faintest whisper of cool air felt like fire on my skin. My body ached down to the marrow, my wrists throbbing in tandem with my heartbeat from the unforgiving bite of the cuffs. I couldn’t open my eyes; I didn’t want to. Everything hurt too much. My stomach churned, but I was too weak to move, too drained to care about the hollow ache gnawing at my insides.
The door creaked open, a sound too loud for the quiet. I flinched at the intrusion but didn’t look. Couldn’t look. Heavy footsteps echoed against the cement, growing louder as they drew closer. The musky, overpowering scent of whoever it was hit my nose first, and the nausea surged so violently I nearly gagged. I swallowed it down, barely holding myself together.
Then came another scent—richer, deeper—familiar. My favorite food. Braised duck with figs and honey glaze. A meal so rare, so specific, it felt like a cruel joke. My stomach twisted painfully, the pangs of hunger almost doubling me over even as I lay unmoving.
“Poor kid,” Joe’s gruff voice pierced through my haze. His tone was half-condescending, half-amused, and it made my skin crawl. I felt the warmth of his presence as he crouched next to me. The clink of metal followed, sharp and sudden, as he fiddled with the handcuffs. My wrists screamed in protest when the cuffs finally clicked open, the sudden release causing a rush of blood that felt like needles stabbing me over and over.
Joe tsked mockingly. “What, no punch to the nose now? Not so tough when you’re all weak and pathetic, huh?” His voice dripped with derision, a sneer curling at the edges of every word. “Look at you, all curled up like a damn stray.”
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the fluorescent light overhead. The bulb flickered repeatedly, casting shadows across his bandaged nose. He flinched when our gazes met, just for a moment, but quickly covered it with a smirk. I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I just stared, my vision swimming as the pounding in my skull intensified.
Joe shifted, leaning closer. “You know,” he began, his voice dropping into something almost soothing, “there’s a reason the weak don’t wander into predator territory. You ever watch how the big cats hunt? They don’t chase the strongest. No. They watch for the little ones. The ones that lag behind, thinking they’re safe. Thinking they can outrun the monsters.”
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