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All her time and safety.
Can’t she see I’m trying to save her from the devil inside me?
My girl is no angel though. No. She’d love nothing more than to be right there burning alongside me, daring me to leap into the flames with her.
Shaking my head, I force all thoughts of her away, and when I get home, I down half a bottle of Jack and open my laptop, decisively working through the notes I was making on the bastards who made me this way. If it wasn’t for them, then maybe Zoey wouldn’t be in danger every time she was with me.
Starting from the bottom up, I leave the cells tracking as I go to bed, but even when I sleep, there is no reprieve, no peace.
There never is.
“Tell me, boy.” The guttural grunt makes my eyes close in both disgust and terror. If I don’t, the punishment will be much worse than it is now. “Now,” he orders, his voice sharp.
“I like it, thank you,” I say, my tone flat and dead despite the burning emotions inside me. Usually, I ride away when this happens, escaping to my own head and dreaming of a better life, of what it will be like when I’m free of this place, but with him, I can’t.
They call him Master. I never see his face, only feel his hands, his body, and hear his voice—a voice that haunts me. Unlike the general, he isn’t cruel. No, he’s almost… kind. He wants my pleasure, and I hate it. I can handle the pain, I can handle my body being tortured and used, but this?
I hate it more than anything else.
I hate his touch. I hate how it makes me react.
I hate it so much tears splash down my cheeks without thought as he works me, sliding his fist down my length and ordering me to tell him how much I want this.
How much I like this.
When he’s done, the door slamming sometime later, I crawl to the toilet and throw up over and over again before scrubbing my body in the cold sink. I dash my tears away and wash away things I can’t even begin to think about. Hanging my head into the sink, I let my scarred shoulders bend under the pressure.
The only reason I don’t give up is because of her.
Zoey needs me.
Before, I would not give them the pleasure of seeing me break, but now the only reason I exist, the only reason I fight, is because of her.
The door opens again, and the night shift guard, Toma, grins at me. “You have another visitor.”
“No, you promised!” I yell.
“I lied.” He laughs, and I almost scream when the general steps into the room and grins smugly at me. The door slams shut behind him, taking my only haven, my only escape with it, and there is nothing I can do about it.
“Are you ready to scream for me, boy?” He grins, unbuckling his belt.
For a moment, I imagine taking it and strangling him, imagine going on a killing spree and murdering every single person who ever touched me or allowed me to be touched. I know if I ever make it out of here, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
I’ll make them all pay.
Even if it’s the last thing I do.
* * *
I’m exhausted the next day. I scrub myself for hours in the shower, but I don’t feel clean no matter how hard I try. I never do. Instead, I go to the gym for hours, punishing my body, and when I head home, I feel relaxed enough to focus on work.
I even stopped myself from tracking Zoey.
When I get home, I plan to find my first man and take him down, but when I get there, I instantly know something is wrong. My system is disarmed, and I never even got an alert. Snarling, I pull my gun. Whatever idiot picked this home will regret it. I silently slip inside but stop when I see the intruder.
Zoey is sitting at the kitchen table with her feet propped up and a cup of tea in front of her. She’s wearing one of my shirts, her bare legs making me snarl, but it’s what she has in her hands that really has me on edge—the folder for my current job.
She grins up at me wickedly, making my heart slam. “I’m going to help you whether you want me to or not.”
