So why wasn’t he talking to me?

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I forced myself into a sitting position and slowly pushed to my knees. “Rafe?” I called, crawling in the direction of the door. The chain attached to my neck crept after me like a snake. At least, that’s what I envisioned.

He remained eerily silent as I spanned the distance between us. Terror gripped my heart, and my breath came fast and noisy. “Talk to me,” I said, but everything I was, all the shattered pieces of me, fell through the cracks. Fear iced my heart. Oh God. What had they done to him? My limbs shook violently as I lowered to my haunches next to him, and that’s when I heard it.

A low groaning, interspersed with quick, shallow intakes of breath. As if he were trying not to breathe. As if he were trying to hold it in. I knew what that was like.

My eyes burned with grief. “Rafe…” I reached out to touch him, but he shifted away at the first brush of my fingers. Fear and rejection darted through me, leaving in its wake tiny holes where stubborn hope seeped. I had to believe we’d find a way out of this. Giving in to the alternative would surely get us killed.

“What…what happened?”

“I remember.”

Letting out a breath, I reached for his hand, and my fingers wrapped around his on the first try, as if they knew exactly where they belonged. I held on tight, refusing to let him withdraw. “What did you remember?”

“The hole in prison. The guards let him in…”

“Let who in?”

“Cleft smells like him.” He returned my grip painfully. “He fucked me in there. Cleft fucking smells like him.”

“Who’s Cleft?”

“The fucker in the hoodie.”

I stiffened, still unable to get the hatred in that man’s eyes out of my head. “He was in prison with you?”

“I think so. I can’t remember…I couldn’t see a thing in the hole.”

And we couldn’t see a thing in here. I ran my thumb over the back of his hand, blinking rapidly to hold back the simmering grief. I’d failed him eight years ago. I wouldn’t do the same now. I’d be strong for him, a rock for him to lean on. “Did he d-do it again?”

I waited with bated breath, my heart pounding in my ears. Another thwack and scream came from the other side of the wall, and I jumped.

Rafe jumped too. “Jax stopped him.” His voice sounded off, almost as if he’d rehearsed his void tone. I recognized the underlying shock because it matched the way I felt.

“In prison?”

“No, here. He’s here.”

“Jax is involved?”