Page 125 of Three for a Girl

“Yeah, you should have. You should’ve known, you should’ve been careful, or were you that cut up about losing the first one, you’d thought you’d like another?”

“Marc was nothing like Romeo.”

“He drugged you day after day and carved numbers into your flesh.”

Chad’s skin tingled. They stung as if they’d been freshly cut, and he glanced at his shirt, expecting to see blood blotching the material.

“But that’s not all he did…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I read your file.”

“You read my…”

A shaky breath left him instead of more words. He looked past Carter to Romeo, no longer hiding, but leaning against a bunk bed ten yards behind Carter. His eyes were fixed on the back of Carter’s head, and he twitched his fingers at his sides.

“Yeah, I read it. You broke down and told one of the doctors.”

“Shut up.” Chad breathed. He slid his hands over his ears and shook his head. When he glanced at Romeo, he was no longer fixated on Carter, but watching Chad.

“Don’t say it.”

He didn’t want it out in the open, didn’t want it used against him. He didn’t want Romeo to know.

Chad reached for the hammer, and held it high. Carter laughed, shaking his head.

“You don’t have it in you.”

The hammer doubled—tripled in weight.

“You’re weak and pathetic.”

“Shut up.”

Carter grinned. The blue in his eyes twinkled. “And I know your secret.”

“I swear if you say—”

“You’ll do nothing, just like you did nothing when Marc had you.”

A shudder ran through Chad. He dropped the hammer, but didn’t hear it hit the desk. He pressed his hands over his ears, but focused on Carter’s lips.

“He forced himself on you … in you. And you couldn’t do a thing to stop him.”

The air left Chad in one breath. His diaphragm spasmed, his lungs burned, and the bright white of pain dissolved the world around him until he was only left with Marc Wilson. The looming, the savage smile, the smell of his breath above Chad’s own blood and sweat. The weight of his body, the shove of his hips and the deep-seated agony.

A raw sound escaped his throat, and he curled his fingers into the side of his head, rocking forward. The bright white of pain faded until Chad only saw darkness. It bled into him, owned him. He’d fallen from the tightrope, unable to get to the other side, but he didn’t hit the ground and shatter beyond all repair like he envisioned. The darkness was soft and fuzzy and cushioned him from the fall. It was relief, and power, and letting go of fear.

Marc Wilson was dead.

Romeo and the monster had saved him, but it was more than that.

He’d helped.

Even at his most helpless, Chad had been able to help himself. He’d attacked Marc and saved Romeo. He’d watched as Marc’s life had been extinguished, whatever light he had in his cruel body leaving him forever, and he’d relished seeing him die. It had felt good to watch Romeo use his darkness, and release his monstrous side on someone who deserved it.

The dark wasn’t so bad.

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