Page 191 of Boy of Ruin
Fear coats my tongue, infecting my mind. What the fuck is this shit?
I keep walking, making a right, because the noise is coming from there, and although I don’t want to see it, I can’t seem to stop moving toward it.
A crate.
From the light at the top of the stairs, what Francis isn’t blocking, I see a…crate. Like…for a dog.
But there’s a boy in it, vaguely familiar, and I realize it’s a…cage.
There’s a boy locked in his basement.
My heart thumps so hard in my chest, I can’t even breathe. I’m frozen for a moment as he stares at me with livid green eyes. The greenest I’ve ever fucking seen on anyone, ever. He’s so…skinny, too. Skinnier than I am.
And…naked.
My stomach churns.
I make myself keep moving. Stalk around that cage. Crate. Fuck if I know the difference anymore.
His arms are bound behind his back and his hands look…blue. They look fucking blue, like the circulation is…
Oh my god.
He’s begging me, I realize.
He’s fucking…asking for help.
I stop moving, stop circling around that crate. There’s piss in it, and my chest heaves, stomach turning into knots.
He’s pissed in here.
How long has he been in here?
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out as he stares at me, and I realize he’s pleading. He’s… begging me to get him out.
Oh my god.
Oh my fucking god.
I’m going to be sick.
I’m going to be fucking sick.
I think about it. Opening up that crate.
I think about it for a second, but I hear Francis clear his throat, and the only thing I can do is fucking run.
“That’s what happens when we need to keep secrets, Lucifer, do you understand?” my father’s cold voice asks from across his desk that night.
No. No I don’t fucking understand. Why is that boy in there? Jeremiah? Why is he…in a crate?
“And he’s the biggest secret of all. I trusted you with that,” my dad continues, and I’m only half-listening. I’m staring at a letter opener on his desk and imagining plunging it into his brain. “I trust that you’ll keep it, and if you don’t…” He blows out a breath. “We can arrange a cage for you too.”
“That was touching.” A cold voice pierces the room as I flinch, my fingers still cradling my husband’s face as tears streak down the bridge of his nose. My blood runs cold as his blue eyes leave my gaze and he’s right back to being the demon I know him so well as.
“That was so fucking touching,” Jeremiah says at my back, the hairs on my arms standing on end. “You deserve a goddamn round of applause for that one, Lucifer.” The way he speaks my husband’s name makes me feel sick, and so does Lucifer’s fingers digging into my hips as his chest heaves, his eyes narrowed, and his lip curled up in a snarl.
I slip my fingers from his face and spin in his arms, shocked he lets me, but relieved he doesn’t fight me on this.
