Page 227 of Did They Break You

Chase screams, blood spurting on his face as Cortland stands, backing away, toward me. I’m pinned between Storm and Cortland, and I see Van’s eyes meet mine as he stands in the doorway, watching.

Brinklin gets to his feet, pocketing the knife and stepping back, beside Van.

Chase rolls over in the glass from the mirror, whimpering as he does.

After a second, he struggles to his feet, gripping the counter with a bloody hand, nearly stumbling before he gets upright, one hand still on his nose.

He glares at me, his face pink, matching his shirt.

Then he turns away, only to find Van and Brinklin blocking his path.

He glares at Van, spits on the floor between them.

“Move, you fucking incestual?—”

Van and Brinklin both move without waiting for what he’s going to say, slamming Chase against the wall. The tattoos on Van’s biceps flex as he hits Chase with a closed fist. “What was that?” he goads him.

Chase dives to the left, trying to get away, but Brinklin grabs him from behind, hooking his arms under Chase’s, locking his hands behind his neck, so Chase is defenseless and Van stares at him, his hands shooting to his throat.

“Get off me,” Chase snarls. “Get the fuck off me. You are all fucking crazy! You’re crazy. You deserve that stupid b?—”

Cortland moves again, ripping Chase from Brinklin’s arms, and all four of them go down to the ground, Cortland’s hands around Chase’s throat as he slams his head against the glass on the floor and Brinklin pins down his legs while Van hits his torso, the sounds of Chase whimpering echoing in the bathroom as me and Storm watch, breathless. I grab Storm’s arm, blood all over his black shirt, but I don’t think Storm minds being a little bloody.

His mouth comes to my ear, my heart in my throat as I watch them beat the fuck out of Chase, blood covering his body.

“This is fun, huh, little wolf?”

I keep staring, trying to breathe, trying to think, because if they don’t stop fucking with him, they’re going to…

“They’re going to kill him.”

Storm laughs against my skin as I watch the carnage. “Maybe so.”

But Brinklin stops it, leaning away from Chase’s legs. “That’s enough,” he says quietly as Van cocks his fist back again and Cortland’s hands are still around Chase’s throat.

Everyone stills.

Chase’s eyes are swollen, and his chest is heaving, but otherwise, he’s motionless. And it feels good, I realize.

It feels good to see him like this.

“That’s enough,” Brinklin says again.

Cortland backs off, and slowly, Van stands, glancing at the blood flecked on his knuckles, sweat beading along his hairline.

He drops his hand and looks to me. “We need to go, Rems.”

Cortland laughs, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”

Van glares at Cortland, and I see a vein in his neck ticking. Then he looks at Chase, curling into a ball on the floor.

In the fetal position.

He has glass imbedded in his skin. Along his eye. His nose. His mouth.

Cortland reaches down and picks up the baseball bat he dropped by the toilet. He twists it in his hand, running it along Chase’s spine as Chase whimpers.

“You wanna swing, baby?” he asks me, his gray eyes lifting to meet mine.

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