When we step into the motel room, the door barely clicks shut behind us before I yank off my mask and hoodie, tossing them onto the chair without a second thought. I head straight for the bathroom, the walls shrinking with every step. I need air. I need silence. I need her not to see me like this.
Inside, I slam the door shut and lean back against it. My hands tremble as I reach for the shower knob, twisting it all the way to the hottest setting. Steam begins to fill the small space, but it does nothing to burn away the images in my head.
The kid’s face—wide-eyed, desperate, trusting—won’t leave me. His screams echo in my skull, overlapping with screams from a lifetime ago. I press my fists into my eyes, trying to scrub them from my memory, but they’re embedded too deep. And Raven—God, the way she looked at me, begging me to help, like I was anything other than what I am. Like I could’ve saved him.
I let him go. Just like I let her know the truth. I was that kid once. I felt the same helplessness, the same betrayal by the ones who were supposed to protect me. The weight of saying it out loud crushes me now, a sickness rising in my gut, spreading through every part of me. It’s too much. All of it.
I strip down in frantic motions as the water pounds against the shower walls, a dull roar that I hope drowns out the storm inside me. I step under the spray, letting the scalding heat hit my skin, but it doesn’t cleanse me. It doesn’t wash away the filth or the pain or the goddamn memories.
I press my forehead against the cold tile, clutching the edge of the showerhead so hard it creaks. My tears mix with the water running down my face as I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only grows heavier. This is all I’ve ever known. This pain. This darkness. This endless fucking cycle of cruelty. Even my sweet little sister—her memory, her smile—has been tainted by this fucking cruelty. She was my only light, and they stole her from me. They tore her away like she was nothing.
I punch the wall, the sharp sting in my knuckles grounding me for only a second. My chest heaves as I let out a guttural sound I can’t even name—a cry, a scream, maybe both. I dig my nails into my scalp, trying to pull myself back together, but there’s nothing left to hold onto.
The water pools around my feet, but I feel like I’m drowning anyway. All I want is to feel clean—to feel something—but I never will. Not with this blood on my hands. Not with this broken, twisted thing I’ve become.
When my body feels too heavy to carry, I let myself collapse onto the floor, the tiles pressing into my back. My knees draw up, my arms slung over them like dead weight, and I lower my head. My chest feels like it’s caving in, shallow and strained as anxiety sinks deeper into me.
Then, through the hiss of the water, I hear it shift—the small change in its rhythm. My muscles tense as I gradually lift my head and blink through my blurred, weeping eyes.
She lowers herself down, her small, naked body pressing between my legs. She curls herself sideways against me, tucking in, like I won’t shatter the moment she touches me. Her silent presence, her nearness, breaks something inside me—something that I thought had already been broken beyond repair.
A sob breaks free before I can stop it, real and unfiltered, and I lower my head again. She doesn’t recoil, doesn’t abandon me. Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, holding me. At first, I go stiff, the instinct to push her away rising like an automatic response. I’m not used to this—this compassion, this… love. Not in any form. I’ve never been held, never been fucking cuddled, never been wanted like this.
But slowly, like a caged animal inching toward freedom, I let myself lean into her. I press my face into the crook of her neck, letting her scent, her warmth, envelop me. And eventually—finally—I bring my arms up, trembling as they wrap tightly around her small frame, pulling her into me and I hold her like she’s the only thing keeping me together to this world.
Then something shifts inside me. The constant darkness that’s exhausted me for so long feels… interrupted. Her light—soft, steady and undeniable—pierces through, illuminating even the smallest corner of my abyss. It blinds my gloom, forces it back just enough for me to see her.
She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t fucking need to. And she doesn’t know how much it means. Her touch, her being here, speaks louder than any words ever could. Her actions say what no one ever said to me before:
You’re not alone. I see you, Ty. I’m fucking here.
And I believe her. For the first time, I believe it. Then, strangely, impossibly, it feels like a part of me, a part I thought was dead forever, begins to heal. Just a tiny piece, but it’s enough. Enough to cling to. Enough to know that in this moment, in this small space, I might actually be worth saving.
Chapter Sixteen
Raven
Lying in bed, Ty and I face each other in the dim room, naked under the duvet, our hair still damp from the shower. The flickering light from the TV dances across the walls, casting faint shadows over us.
All I can do is stare into his eyes. Those piercing eyes that have terrified me, unsettled me, consumed me. But tonight, something changed. Tonight, I saw him—truly saw him.Not the man who kidnapped me, not the killer, not the psychopath, I’ve been trying so hard to figure out.
I saw the boy beneath it all, the boy who was destroyed piece by piece until there was nothing left but pain and rage. Something inside me broke when I saw him like that.
I asked him to show me his world, and he did. God, he did. But I never expected this. I should have, though, shouldn’t I? The signs were all there—hiding in the edges of his words, the way he looked at me when I pushed too far. The scars that covered his body, the venom in his voice when he spoke of his parents, the anger and desperation when he mentioned his sister. It was all there, waiting for me to see it. But I didn’t. I was too scared of him, too caught up in his violence and unpredictability to look beyond the monster I thought he was.
Now, I know. And knowing… it hurts. It’s a heartache I wasn’t ready for. Ty is broken. He’s fractured into so many pieces that I don’t know if he’ll ever be whole again. The people who were supposed to protect him, love him, cherish him—they were the ones who tore him apart. They turned him into this. Into someone who doesn’t know how to love or trust, someone who hides his pain behind walls so high, I’m amazed I even got to see the other side.
I feel sick knowing what he went through. I feel devastated for him, for the boy he was, for the little boy I saw in those woods tonight who might not make it out alive. It’s the same ache I’d feel for anyone who has endured that kind of suffering, but with Ty, it’s different. It’s personal. Because even though I’m sometimes afraid of him, even though I’ve hated him at times, I care.I care so much it makes me want to fucking scream.
Knowing this about him, about his past, it makes me feel like something inside me has changed forever. Like I’ll never look at him the same way again. How could I? How could anyone?
“Don’t pity me, kitten,” he murmurs. “That’s all I ask.”
“It’s not pity,” I whisper back, my lips twitching into a small, teasing smile. “I still think you’re an unhinged asshole, don’t worry.”
A faint smile cracks his otherwise stony expression, but it doesn’t linger. As quickly as it appears, it vanishes, leaving only the intensity in his gaze. I shift closer, feeling the warmth of his bare skin against mine, the hard muscles of his chest meeting the soft curves of my breasts. His arm snakes around my back, pulling me in, holding me there and our faces are so close that I can feel his breath on my lips.
“What’s your plan, Ty?” I ask softly. “If you’re not killing them, then who are you killing?”