Page 170 of Sin Like the Devil

Xander’s almost-black gaze soon sneaks in too. Hardened diamonds of hatred and fascination. For once, he can’t follow me. I’m far beyond his reach now. He’ll never get the chance to break me—not before the clinicians do.

“Fuck.” It sounds like Lennox’s throat is coated in gravel. “That hurts.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

At the sound of my laughter, he tenses up. “Hey.”

“Hi. Comfortable?”

It seems to take him a moment to remember our conversation. The sordid truths we told in the dead of night. Even now, it feels like an immaterial dream. Lennox would never apologise for any wrongdoing.

Only, he did.

Perhaps I don’t know Lennox at all.

“Five-star luxury,” he grumbles. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Be thankful for that.”

Every limb feels like it has been dipped in gasoline and set alight. A combination of hydrotherapy, beatings and sub-zero temperatures has left me feeling like a pack of wolves ripped me apart at the seams.

When he shifts, hissing in pain, I expect to be shoved away. Talk of redemption never holds up in the cold light of day—even when day constitutes fluorescent lighting and waking from agony-induced unconsciousness.

Yet the inevitable rejection and return to status quo never comes. Lennox stills, his handcuffed arms remaining curled around me, chiselled muscles contracting as he crushes me closer. I can hear his heart beneath his breastbone.

“We won’t be left alone for long,” he advises. “Better prepare yourself.”

“Why don’t they just kill us? It’s quicker. Cleaner too.”

“While we’re alive, we still have our uses. The Z wing repurposes every piece of discarded trash.”

I’d rather die than be treated like a lab rat. I don’t want to become another one of their creations. An experimental prototype rolled out to the highest bidder.

“What if they hurt Raine?” I whisper in horror. “Or Xander?”

“That’s why we have to keep them entertained,” Lennox replies like he’s given this some thought. “As long as we’re here, we have their attention. Our family will be safe.”

“Our?”

Breath stalling, Lennox’s head lifts from my neck. He looks down at me through vicious bruises. One seafoam eye is swollen shut, while dried clumps of blood are soaked into his thick stubble.

The necklace around his neck is still intact, stark against burnished skin. I’m surprised they haven’t taken it. Anything to dehumanise and antagonise. Perhaps that stage is yet to come.

“You care about Raine.” His eyes ping-pong between mine

“Yes.”

“Do you care about Xander?”

When I don’t immediately answer, he lifts a thick brow. Right. No pretences. We have nothing in here but our truth. Last night, Lennox gave me his.

“I… Yes. No.” I close my eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. “Look, it’s complicated.”

It takes him a moment to find the words to respond.

“Family isn’t who you’re born to. It isn’t blood or birth lines or adoption papers. It isn’t even a legality.”

“Then what is it?”

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