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“I want to see it.”
“It’s locked. I don’t have the key.”
“Liar. Besides, there was no lock. He broke it.”
“And you think I didn’t fix it?”
She walks to the mouth of the building and enters. I dismount and follow her, using the flashlight on my phone to guide us. I show her the padlocked door.
“Satisfied?” I ask.
She looks up at me, her face mostly hidden in the shadows. “What was it? Before?”
I study her. Remember the trust she’d talked about what feels like an eternity ago. When she trusted me with her secret.
“We called it the punishment room.”
Worry creases her forehead.
“My grandfather. He was, well, let’s just say he ruled with an iron fist.”
“Not your father?”
“No. My father was gentle. Which Grandfather found weak.” I move to walk out of the cave, but she puts a hand on my arm to stop me. I turn to her, and in the light of my phone’s flashlight, her eyes shift to the scar Theron left on my cheek. She reaches a hand up to touch it, fingers light. It’s the first time she’s touched me in, fuck, I can’t remember how long. Apart from pulling my hair when my face is buried between her legs, she avoids my touch.
“Theron said something.”
I swallow because I don’t trust myself to speak. Not the way my heart is beating as her fingers make their way down my cheek and to my mouth, hovering there before she drops her arm to her side.
“When I cried out, he said that it could always be worse. He said that he’s not the monster. That I have no idea what you’re capable of.”
I draw in a tight breath. The air in here seems thinner. I need to burn it down and leave only ashes. Because this building, it’s like a fucking black hole of time that still manages to trap me and reach its claws into my present.
“What did he mean, Judge?”
I open my mouth to answer but my phone rings then, interrupting us, breaking into the moment. I see that it’s Ezra. “I need to take this.” I walk out toward the sunlight and answer, grateful for the call because I’m not sure I’m ready to answer that question.
“Judge, you need to come.”
“What?” My heart thuds.
“I’m sending you my location now.”
“You found him.”
“He’s in bad shape. They’re working on him now, but you need to hurry.”
I look at Mercedes, who is watching me. “I’ll be right there.”
Mercedes rolls her eyes as I disconnect. “Saved by the bell. Who’s Ezra Moore?” she asks. She must have read my phone’s screen.
“Come—”
“Who did he find?” she asks tightly.
“I’ll get you back to the house.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I continue.
