40. So beautifully broken .
Chapter forty
So beautifully broken ...
Nick
T he abandoned diner felt like a tomb. Cracked vinyl booths sat empty under flickering lights, and the smell of stale grease hung in the air like a shroud.
Owen’s grip on Nick’s arm was unnecessary—Nick moved with the compliance of someone who knew better than to resist—but Owen seemed to enjoy the contact anyway.
“He’s in the back,”Owen said, steering Nick toward a door marked ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’.“Dry storage. Nice and private for your reunion.”
The door opened to reveal a cramped space lined with empty metal shelving and scattered restaurant supplies.
Shaw stood with his back to them, examining something on a clipboard, but Nick would have recognized that silhouette anywhere.
Tall, lean, wearing the same charcoal gray suit Nick remembered from their sessions.
His graying hair wasperfectlystyled, as always.
“Sir,” Owen announced. “Delivery complete.”
Shaw turned, and Nick held his breath. The face wasexactlyas he remembered—sharp cheekbones, intelligent dark eyes, the kind of warm smile that had once made Nick feel special. Safe. Protected.
“Nicholas,”Shaw said, his tone carrying the same paternal warmth that confused Nick for so long. He stepped forward, arms opening in invitation.“It’s so good to have you back.”
Before Nick could react, Shaw pulled him into a gentle embrace. The contact was careful, tender, avoiding Nick’s injuries with practiced awareness. For a moment, Nick felt himself relax into the familiar comfort of Shaw’s approval—then caught himself, internal alarms screaming warnings.
This is how it always started, the submissive whispered with bitter recognition. Gentle care. Making you feel special. Making you grateful.
Stay alert , the hunter addedcoldly. He’s gathering intelligence . Every reaction is data .
“Owen,”Shaw said without releasing Nick,“please go ensure our other guest is secure. I’ll want to speak with Nicholasprivately.”
“Yes, sir.”Owen’s footsteps retreated, the door clicking shut behind him.
Shaw pulled back, keeping his hands on Nick’s shoulders as he studied his face. His gaze lingered on Nick’s split lip, the redness around his eyes from crying, the finger-shaped bruises on his jaw from Owen’s grip.
“Oh, Nicholas,”Shaw murmured, one thumbtracing the edge of a bruise.“Look what they’ve done to you.”
The tenderness in his tone was devastating in its familiarity. This was the Shaw who held Nick through panic attacks, who praised him for being brave, who made him feel valued when everyone else saw only a broken addict.
“Sit down, son,”Shaw said, guiding Nick to a makeshift chair fashioned from an overturned crate.“You look exhausted. Can I get you something? Water? Something to eat?”
Nick shook his head, not trusting his voice. Shaw’s concern seemed genuine, which only made it more terrifying. The man whodestroyed his sense of self was offering him comfort with the same gentle patience he always showed.
Shaw knelt beside the crate, bringing himself to Nick’s eye level. His gaze fell to Nick’s left hand—or rather, to where his hand should have been. The stump was still bandaged, still tender, and Shaw’s expression darkened with what looked like genuine rage.
“Who did this to you?”Shaw asked, his tone tight with controlled fury.
“Marcus Graves,” Nick said automatically.
Shaw’s jaw clenched.“I should have expected nothing less from an old one. They take pleasure in breaking beautiful things.”His fingers hovered over Nick’s wrist, not quite touching the bandages.“We’ll fix this, Nicholas. I know people who specialize in adaptations. We’ll make you whole again.”
The promise was delivered with such conviction that Nick almost believed it. Shaw had always been good at making grand gestures seem achievable, at making Nick feel like he was worth the effort.
“Now,”Shaw said, settling into a sitting position on the floor so he was still at Nick’s level,“I need to understand what happened. Owen gave me his version, but I want to hear it from you. What happened with Henderson?”
Nick’s mouth went dry. Shaw’s dark eyes were patient, understanding, but Nick could feel the trap underneath the kindness. Shaw always knew when he was lying—even lies of omission.
“He wanted me to kill my brother,”Nick saidcarefully.“For saying he loved Marcus Graves. I couldn’t do it.”
Shaw’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his posture. A subtle straightening, abarelyperceptible cooling of his demeanor.
“That’s not the whole truth, Nicholas,”Shaw saidgently.“You know I can always tell when you’re holding something back. Whatreallyhappened?”
The familiar dread settled in Nick’s stomach. Shaw’s ability to detect deception had been one of his most effective tools during their sessions. There was no point in trying to hide details—Shaw would keep pressing until he had the complete story.
“We lost our advantage,”Nick said.“Marcus Graves tore through our team to get Caleb back. Henderson was going to burn them all alive. Marcus had already...”Nick gestured to his missing hand.“But I still didn’t want my brother to die. So I shot Henderson in the head and ran.”
Shaw’s expression darkenedsuddenly, the warmth draining from his tone like water through a sieve.“But that’s not all you did, is it, Nicholas?”
Nick’s stomach dropped at the shift in demeanor, but his mind remained clear. Here it comes, he thought. Let the submissive handle this. Stay in control.
“You helped another monster, many months later, kill my operatives,”Shaw continued, his words turning as cold as winter.
“I—” Nick started.
“Seven operatives, Nicholas. Seven men who looked up to you, who saw you as a hero. And you watched a bloodsucker slaughter them like cattle.”Shaw’s face was transforming, paternal warmth replaced by something vicious.
“That’s not confusion. That’s not trauma. That’s betrayal of the highest order.”
“I should let Owen have you,”Shaw snarled, stoppingdirectlyin front of Nick’s seated form.“Let him work out his grief over Henderson on your worthless hide. Seven good men, Nicholas. How do you make amends for seven lives?”
Give him what he wants, Nick thought, letting desperation creep into his tone.“I’m sorry,”he whispered.“I’m sorry, I was confused, I wasn’t thinking—”
“Sorry?”Shaw’s tone rose to a shout.“Sorry doesn’t bring them back! Sorry doesn’t undo the damage you’ve done to our mission!”
Perfect, Nick thought as Shaw’s control slipped. Keep going.
Then, asquicklyas it came, the rage disappeared. Shaw’s expression softened, his demeanor returning to that paternal tone.
“But I know it wasn’treallyyou,”Shaw saidgently, crouching down to Nick’s level again.“My Nicholas wouldn’t betray his brothers. My Nicholas is a good hunter, a loyal soldier. That creature corrupted you, didn’t it? Twisted your thoughts until you couldn’t tell friend from enemy?”
Nick noddedfrantically.“Yes. Yes, it confused me. I’m a good hunter. The Society rebuilt me, made me better. I’m a good boy.”
Let him think he’s winning, Nick reminded himself as Shaw’s features warmed.
“Of course you are,”Shaw murmured, reaching out to stroke Nick’s hair with gentle fingers.“My best boy. My perfect weapon. But we have to make sure the corruption is gone, don’t we? We have to purge every trace of that monster’s influence.”
“Tell me about your relationship with it, this new monster,”Shaw said, his tone taking on that clinical edge.“But this time, I want details. I want to knowexactlyhow it corrupted you.”
He wants the intimate details, Nick realized with cold clarity. He’s getting off on this. Use it.
“Please,” Nick whimpered. “Please don’t make me—”
Shaw’s hand tightened in his hair, yanking his head back.“Did I stutter, Nicholas? When your handler asks you a question, you answer.Completely.Truthfully.”
“It—we lived together,”Nick choked out, accessing real memories while protecting their sacred parts.“He was gentle with me. He made me feel...”
“Safe?”Shaw finished, his words dripping with false understanding.“Of course it did. That’s how predators work, Nicholas. They make their prey feel special, protected, loved. Just like Gianmarco did.”
Don’t react, Nick told himself as fury blazed through him at the comparison. Stay on mission .
“It wasn’t like that,”Nick protested with calculated defiance—just enough to make Shaw work for his compliance.
Shaw’s grip tightened again, more painful this time.“Wasn’t it? Did it bite you, Nicholas? Did it feed from you while you were helpless?”
He wants humiliation, Nick understood. Give him enough to satisfy the hunger.
“Yes, but—”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you beg for more?”
For Luka, Nick reminded himself as he forced out the admission.“Yes.”
Shaw released his hai, standing and beginning to pace again.“Classic predatory grooming. It found your weakness—your need to be useful, to be wanted—and exploited it.”
Nick bit back his real response, instead offering token resistance that Shaw couldeasilycrush.“That’s not—”
Shaw spun around, fury blazing in his eyes again.“Are you arguing with me, Nicholas? Are you defending that monster?”
Nick flinched.“No! No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinkingclearly—”
“No, you weren’t,”Shaw agreed, his words deadly quiet.“Because that creature scrambled your brains. Made you think torture was love and that submission was choice. It destroyed everything we built together.”
Shaw moved closer, and Nick could see something dangerous in his expression—the real Shaw emerging from behind the therapeutic mask. Almost time.
“But I can fix you,”Shaw continued, dropping to a whisper.“I can purge every trace of that monster’s influence. Every touch, every kiss, every moment of false pleasure it gave you. We’ll replace it all with proper conditioning. Kneel against the wall.”