Page 17 of Sinful Kingdom

ALEX

Zay cries himself to sleep in my arms. It leaves me feeling weird, knowing that he trusts me enough to do this. I’m so fucking relieved that I’m here for him. But I’m also terrified about what the next few hours, days, weeks, however long might hold for him.

I was put into these kinds of situations when I was about his age. And even though I knew most of them were simulations set up by our cunt of a grandfather, it didn’t stop them being any less terrifying.

Daemon and I knew that no matter how hard it got, that we’d walk free at the end. If we were lucky, it would be with praise from that sick fuck. Unlucky, and we’d fail whatever his intended test was and be punished. And that could come in a whole host of different ways.

But right now, I’ve no idea how it’s going to play out. The only thing I do know is what they’re trying to achieve.

They want Evie, and they want revenge for intercepting her in the first place.

I knew doing what we did was a risk, but I’d do it a million times over to get that time with her. To keep her out of the clutches of the sick prick who bought her. I’ll take the pain, the punishment, the revenge just so she doesn’t have to. She and this terrified little boy in my arms.

It hurts like a motherfucker, but somehow, I manage to shuffle backward until I’m resting against the wall.

Every inch of me screams from the beating I must have taken while I was blacked out. Cunts. But I can push all of that aside for him. For her.

Pain is your friend, not your enemy. Embrace it. Use it to make you stronger.

I stare down at Zay, trying to figure out what happened, how he ended up here with me, when something in his hair catches my eye. Reaching into his dark locks, I pull out a bloody bit of shattered glass. From the thickness of it, I’d say it was from a car.

As gently as I can, I check his scalp for injuries, and my blood turns to ice when I find a sizeable cut at the back. My fingers come away red, and despite it not being my own, it makes my stomach turn over and makes my hand tremble.

It’s so fucked up that I’m scared of blood. Although, it’s only ever been my own until this very moment.

“Shit,” I whisper, dropping my head back against the wall and closing my eyes for a few seconds in the hope it’ll help calm me.

Dragging my eyelids open, I take stock of the room we’re in once more. But there’s nothing. Nothing that can help a bleeding fucking head wound.

I look down at my shirt, but I’ve no chance of ripping a bit free to use as a bandage while he’s in my arms.

“Zay,” I say quietly, knowing that I need to wake him. I might not be an expert, but I’ve picked up enough over the years to know that if he has a concussion then he shouldn’t be sleeping. “Zay, buddy. I need you to wake up for me.”

He doesn’t stir, but I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck, making relief rush through me.

It’s not enough, though. He needs checking over.

As best I can, I look over the rest of him.

He’s still wearing his uniform, and although his shirt is ripped in places, I think it might have protected him enough that I don’t see any more blood. His trousers are the same, and he seems to be missing a shoe. And other than scratches on his hands and the cuts and bruises I saw on his terrified little face when I came to, I’m hopeful that he’s okay.

Still debating the idea of waking him up versus letting him block all this out with sleep, I sit there watching him.

The clunk of a lock being pulled back puts my heart in my throat, but thankfully, Zay doesn’t even flinch.

My grip on him tightens as the door opens and my pulse takes off like a fucking jet plane.

If he were awake, I’d have him behind me already, but as it is, I do what I can.

A man dressed in all black with a balaclava on his face steps into the room with two bottles of water in his giant hand.

He doesn’t say anything, but his cold, hard eyes hold mine.

“He’s got a head wound,” I say, my voice steady and determined. “Do you have a nurse or a doctor?”

He continues to stare. Fucking buffoon.

“He’s a kid, man. He’s innocent in all of this,” I plead.

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