Page 70 of Yours on the Canvas

Hale’s jaw tightens. “I can hear you. And I said it’s fine.”

Jack moves in front of him, cupping Hale’s cheek gently. “You don’t get bruises like this from schoolyard scraps. Not these, and not this pattern.”

Hale swallows hard. His eyes dart between us, panic flickering.

“Hale,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “Talk to us.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

Jack’s voice softens, but it still carries a tremor to it. “Hale, I know what these look like. I know what they feel like, and I know what kind of man throws punches like this.”

Hale’s breath hitches at his words.

Jack steps back, fear creeping into his expression. “Who hit you?” I can see his mind is going to a place where I hope he is wrong.

Hale hesitated. Too long.

“Hale,” I said again. “Tell us.”

He exhales shakily. “I’ve been training.”

Jack blinks, shock sits heavy on his face. “Training?”

“With this guy. He’s teaching me MMA. He said that what I used to have to do in the underground, he can make me better. He saw me outside of the cafe one day. Said I could become the best in the world.”

My chest tightens, and I rub at it. I look at Jack and his face is drained of colour.

“What does he look like?” Jack asks, his voice now barely above a whisper.

Hale look at the floor. “Tall. Dark hair. Black eyes. Shorter than you Silas, but a little taller than you, Jack. Wears a jacket. black.”

I hear the second that Jack’s breathing stops.. The silence in the hallway turning thick, suffocating, and suddenly freezing cold.

Hale finally looks up. “He said he could make me strong.” His eyes filling with tears, and I see the ten-year-old child he still is.

“Why do you have to be strong, Hale?” I ask.

“Because then I could…” his voice trails off, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Hale” I crouch down in front of him. “Tell me why you need to become strong.”

Hale lifts his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “To protect Jack. Cos then he won’t get beaten up again.”

Jack staggers back a step, a hand flying to his mouth, eyes wide with terror. “Hale,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “You don’t…”

He looks from Hale to me. “Silas,” his voice is small, cracked and raw. “It’s Ray.”

Hale frowns. “Ray?”

Jack’s voice cracks. “My uncle.”

Hale freezes, his face draining white. He knows who Ray is, and what he did to Jack.

I feel something cold and violent settle in my chest. Ray had found a way into our home—he threatened to go after Hale, and my absolute nightmare just became a reality.

He had found Hale. He had touched him, was training him.

“He’s using him.” Jack’s breathing turns shallow, his hands shaking. “He’s using Hale to get to me.”