Page 174 of Piece Us Together

“Travis bought him.”

“Yes.” He laughs humorlessly. “He begged me not to make him. He’d made it through the operation relatively clean. A lot of claims that he was doing things behind closed doors. Acting like he was too good to participate in the…group activities. He’d made it without having to—having to—”

“He had only ever raped us orally,” Nolan whispers. “To that point.”

Jesus Christ.

I swallow bile, hoping my face isn’t showing anything other than supportive understanding.

“There was a chance—a chance he wouldn’t have to—that he’d be able to—to get away with just that. With Carter, I mean. Just oral.” Maison closes his eyes again, his voice starting to break. “There was achance.”

I tighten around his throat again, hushing him as I do. There are tears starting to collect near my thumb where they’d slid down the sides of his face. Soon they’ll be soaking into Nolan’s hair.

I’m not thinking about Travis raping Nolan orally.

I’m not.

I’mnot.

“There was a chance,” I agree with him. “You did the best you could. Travis was the best option.”

I keep my grip firm for a few more seconds before releasing the pressure. His breath is watery when he sucks it in. He’s trembling. It’s soft, barely noticeable, but I know it’s only going to get worse.

“He raped him. On stage, in—in front of everyone. At the auction. W-wasn’t given a choice.” His hands tighten on my shirt. “And it didn’t stop. After. Travis—he—it didn’t fucking stop.”

The trembling is violent now. It wracks his body beneath me. His chest heaves with almost-sobs. His hands scratch at my skin. I realize then that he’s ripped my shirt.

“Maison, I’m about to let go of your throat.” His eyes snap open, body going tense. “Shh. Just for a second. Do you trust me?”

“Trust you. Yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

I slide my hand from his throat and gently grab each of his wrists. I guide them until they’re settled on his lower stomach, knuckles brushing against the front of my pants. I slip my left hand between them, slotting my fingers through the gaps of his until we’re palm to palm, then nudging the other hand until it’sclasped over the first two. His grip tightens, hard enough for his arm to shake. I realize nothing else is shaking, though. He’s calm again.

For now.

I replace my hand on his throat, his breath coming out as a relieved sigh once it’s settled.

Nolan moves one of his hands, placing it over ours. Maison hurries to move his fingers in a way that pulls half of Nolan’s hand into our little bundle.

“He’s a bad liar,” Maison whispers.

I frown. “Travis?”

“No. No, he’s—he’s damn good at lying. I couldn’t have picked anyone better to run our op.” He looks at me. “Carter. He—I didn’t think he could lie. Pretend. He’s a terrible liar. A bit of a hothead, when you got him going. And he’d have to watch others—” He stops, his eyes darting to Nolan before returning to me. “He’d have to stand by and watch them be hurt. That’s not my brother.”

“Did you tell Travis that?”

“Y-yeah.” He swallows hard, throat moving beneath my palm. His pulse is starting to pick back up beneath my fingertips. “Told him he couldn’t tell Carter the truth of who he was. Told him to—fuck.” He closes his eyes again. I debate making him look at me before letting it go. He can hide, for now. I’ll let him hide. “To treat him like—like a slave.”

Oh, Maison.

And Carter. And Travis. And Nolan.

Fuck.

“Carter—Carter couldn’t—he was breaking. He b-broke. He just fucking broke.” He shakes his head, trying to get up again, trying to buck me off. I squeeze his throat and he sobs, choked off and violent enough to wrack his whole body.

“It’s okay,” I promise, leaning over to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. I tighten my hold even further. “Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay, kitten. We’re here. We have you. Shh.”

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