Page 64 of My Grumpy Billionaire Protector

His is the last face I saw before my captors dragged me away.

And his cold, lifeless eyes haunt me even ten years later. It reminds me of all the ways I’ve failed. Being locked in a cage, having no power or control, and being stripped of anything that makes me human was hard enough. Watching the younger boy, with a thick Mexican accent, bear the brunt of their jeers and beatings had been worse. I never even meant to get attached to him, much less care. On the contrary, I’d done everything within my power to remain aloof, knowing it wouldn’t do me any good and would only make the entire situation that much harder.

And I was right.

Being forced to watch Rafael suffer was like having someone leave a knife in my heart and twisting it harder and harder each time. Our cages were next to each other, and he often spoke to me. Although I’d offered only grunts in response, I’d sneak him extra food when we weren’t being watched.

Jesus.

I’m sorry, Rafael. I’m sorry I got out, and you didn’t.

I bury my face in my hands and try harder to push the thoughts away.

But it is no use.

Again and again, I play out our last encounter in the dungeons and the tightness around his eyes. That day, he’d been incredibly talkative, telling me all about his family and the next-door neighbors with the girl he had a crush on.

I’d been nursing a pounding in the back of my skull, and my tongue had felt like sandpaper when I responded. Still, I hadn’t wanted to take it out on him, knowing it was no more his fault that we were locked down there than it was mine. But the impatience and anger had crept in nonetheless, bubbling up in the pit of my stomach.

I remembered the three interminable days of torture, being kept in the cages all the time.

It had been three days since we were allowed outside and into the heavily guarded courtyard with large oak trees on either side and a gravel path that snaked and disappeared behind a cluster of trees. Every day, I remembered being marched upstairs and shoved outside. Although I’d resented the control at first, I’d learned to appreciate the warmth of the sun on the back of my neck and the smell of wildflowers wafting up to my nostrils.

Until one of the others pissed off the guards…

For three days, we’d been forced to pay for the mistake of someone else, a tall and well-built man with pale skin, blue eyes, and dark hair. To make matters worse, he hadn’t even bothered to apologize for going off on the guard and spitting on her. So they’d dragged him off and returned him bruised and bloody an hour later and had locked us up with little food and water.

I recalled, a little too well, how everyone else went deathly quiet. At the time, I hadn’t known whether I’d preferred the silence or if it terrified me. All I’d known was that Rafael had been unable to shut up, his thick and raspy voice slicing through the air and reverberating inside of my head. I’d pressed two fingers to my temples and gritted my teeth together. His voice was like nails against a chalkboard.

Eventually, I snapped at him, with spittle flying off my mouth and the words tumbling out of me in a rush. Hours later, I’d crawled over to the bars separating us, kicking up dirt and dust, and offered him a gruff apology. Unable to hold it in much longer, he reached between us and patted my hand.

It was the last time I saw him upright.

In perfect detail, I still saw the sunlight slanted over his head and the small smile hovering on the edge of his lips. Hours later, when the afternoon light gave way to a soft gray, I’d crawled back to my side and let my back come to rest against the cold, hard wall. Opposite me, I’d seen Rafael do the same. Then he’d begun to sing quietly in Spanish, and I’d squeezed my eyes shut.

You should’ve tried harder, Shane. Rafael deserved to survive. You didn’t.

He would’ve gone on to become a farmer, maintaining his family’s land, and in time, I am certain he would’ve proposed to the girl next door, the one he hadn’t been able to stop bringing up. Each time the thought crosses my mind, my chest tightens, and a lump rises to the back of my throat. It has been ten years since I allowed myself to think of that night, and the demons still haunt me and come for me in the dead of night when I’m not paying attention.

With a deep sigh, I lift my head up, gingerly stretch my body out, and squeeze my eyes shut. I begin to count, loudly at first. My voice grows softer and softer until my arms grow limp and darkness dances on the edges of my vision. By the time sleep comes, Cory and Pierce’s snores fill my head and exhaustion claws at me.

I welcome it with open arms.

“Why do you keep singing?”

Rafael stared at me. “Why wouldn’t I? We need it.”

I stretched my legs out in front of me and blew out a breath. “No, what we need is for someone to rescue us. A song isn’t going to do that.”

“It’ll keep hope alive until they come for us,” Rafael told me after a brief pause. He pushed himself off the wall and crawled over to the bars. His fingers curled around the metal, and he paused. “Maria always says that hope is the one thing they can’t take away from us.”

I frowned. “I think she’s wrong.”

“When we get out of here, you can tell her yourself,” Rafael offered, his dark eyes wide and watchful. “Or you’ll see she was right all along.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

Rafael’s face colored. “Someday, I’ll tell her how I feel.”

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