Page 67 of Out of My Flocking Mind

“He ended up on Ryder’s bad side because of me. He’s in whatever state he’s in because of me. The least I can do is see it. Besides, who knows, maybe there’s something I can do…”

I could tell from Galen’s look that he didn’t agree, that he’d already written Trey off. Even so, he said nothing, only nodding.

I moved past him, headed for the stairs.

“Downstairs,” Galen said, drawing me to a stop. When I turned to face him, he hadn’t moved at all. “He’s uncontrollable, Grey. We had to put him downstairs where we can keep him from escaping or hurting anyone.”

“Is Grey safe there?” Harrison broke in.

“Yeah, she will be. He’s bound and in a cell.”

Each word felt like a fresh slap, and I couldn’t seem to get a break from any of it. Still, I wouldn’t run away. I’d do what I came to do—face Trey and at least apologize for what had happened. I forced myself to walk toward the door I’d never gone through, the one that headed down to the basement. The door had no lock, and opened for me with only a loud creaking of the hinges.

The stairs were wooden, and the interior or the basement appeared lit by a warm bulb somewhere beyond the staircase. I took one more deep breath, then headed down them. From the basement, a deep, dark sound echoed up the concrete walls. It sounded almost like the vibrating of a phone on silent. Still, I walked down the stairs, toward the sound, toward the darkness.

At the bottom, I was finally able to look at the full basement. I could see why Galen never invited me down here…

Cells lined the far wall—five, it seemed like. A single bare light bulb hung from the center of the ceiling, casting dim light over the gray room. It had a certain terrorist-chic aesthetic. The doors to four of the cells were cracked open, but one sat closed at the far-left corner.

That sound came from that direction, though I couldn’t see anything in the cell. My steps were quiet as I approached, as if I might be able to sneak up on whatever made that noise. I stopped when I was just before the door, the thick iron bars on the cells a sure sign they weren’t just for some kinky roleplaying. I doubted a rhino could break through this thing.

Which told me I probably didn’t much want to play with whatever was locked inside.

Just as soon as I thought that, the darkness inside the cell moved. Something dark and shadowed rushed forward, and I couldn’t stop myself from jerking backward, startled by how fast and how aggressive the thing was.

It got to the cell door, then reached through, a black, clawed hand swiping inches from my face. My eyes were open wide, my breath caught in my throat as the light finally illuminated the thing.

It was a bear—large enough I had to crane my neck to see the golden eyes that bore into me from its massive face.

A bear locked down here could only mean one thing, right?

I swallowed hard, then spoke with as calming a voice as I could. “Trey?”

The bear tilted its head as though confused by the name. Had that reached beneath his beast Spirit? Gotten to the man beneath? It must have, because a moment later, a shadow wrapped around the bear and when it dissipated, Trey stood there, nude and clinging to the bars. He breathed hard, sweat on his brow, his gaze down.

“Trey?” I repeated.

He slumped down, sinking to the floor, his forehead hitting the bars as though he lacked the energy to hold it up anymore. That had me rushing forward, not caring about the risk. Sure, the memory of those huge claws remained in my mind, but I didn’t plan on worrying about it right now. I could ignore a risk if I had reason to. I dropped down beside the door, reaching through the bars to check his head.

“How do you feel?”

“My head hurts,” he said, but it wasn’t the voice I knew from him. I recalled how playful he’d sounded at the school, how full of life. He sounded nothing like that. Now exhaustion and pain filled his voice.

“That happens. Still, you look better.”

He shook his head, but didn’t pull back, as though he enjoyed the touch of my cool skin against him. “Everything hurts. It’s like each thought in my head is made of razors, slicing my brain apart as I think.” He shuddered, that growling occurring again, the same one I’d heard when I’d entered.

“You’ll get better,” I swore to him, trying to make myself sound confident. Sure, I had no idea how to make that happen, but I couldn’t just not offer help. I couldn’t not try when he was here and it was my fault.

“He won’t.” Harrison’s voice made me twist my head to look back and find him at the base of the steps along with Galen. They both wore nearly identical expressions—pity. Clearly, they both were in agreement over Trey’s odds.

“You don’t know that,” I snapped. “You can’t.”

Harrison came closer, not bothering to crouch. “Of course I do. I know the sort of damage done, and there aren’t many ways to fix it.”

“Many ways doesn’t mean no ways. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

Harrison sighed, as though dealing with me was tedious. “It took a very specific power to cause the wounds in his mind. The only way to reverse any of it—and it wouldn’t be all of it—would be for the person who created them to resolve them.” He moved his gaze from me to Trey. “And that sort of thing is extremely hard on the Mind who has to do so. I know Ryder well enough to assure you, he wouldn’t do anything so selfless.”

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