CHAPTER 2 FOR BETTERWORSE
Cole raised his head when he heard movement inside Gabe’s room.
He rose numbly to his feet and stared at the door.
His whole world was coming apart before his eyes, and he was powerless to stop it.
He didn’t even feel “real” anymore, like he had already died, and he was merely a ghost haunting his old life…
bringing the nightmare of hell to everyone he loved.
For a moment, he was stuck there, feet rooted to the hard tiled floor, eyes locked blankly on the door handle.
He wanted to cry, scream, punch the walls until his hands bled and his fingers broke…
and another part of him just wanted to crawl into a dark corner, close his eyes, and hide from the horror that had followed him from his childhood.
But neither course of action would change a goddamn thing.
Only the monster could stop this nightmare, and he wouldn’t—not until everything good in Cole’s life was obliterated.
The paralysis broke, and Cole mechanically opened the door to find Gabe out of bed, detached from his I.V., and searching for his clothes.
“Gabe…” Cole entered and let the door slide closed behind him with an audible click.
“Where are my clothes?” There was a strained panic to his voice, along with stubborn determination as he yanked open drawers and closet doors, slamming them shut when he didn’t find what he was looking for. He turned on Cole. “Where are my goddamn clothes!”
Cole just stood there, feeling nothing and everything all at once—wanting to grab his husband and hold on for dear life… and almost afraid to get close to him for fear he would detect the monstrous entity inhabiting Cole, living in his veins.
“Cole!”
Cole flinched and blinked. “You… you don’t have any clothes here,” he mumbled hollowly. “Just the…”
“The what?”
“The clothes you were wearing when the ambulance brought you in,” Cole whispered. “But they’re—”
“Where are they?”
“I’m not sure. But they’re covered in… blood.”
“I don’t fucking care,” Gabe snapped. “Get them!”
The man subconsciously pressed his hand to the freshly bandaged wound, displaying signs of fatigue and discomfort.
“Gabe…” Cole stepped forward, concerned. “You shouldn’t be up…”
Gabe shot him an incredulous look. “ Get my clothes. Now.”
Swallowing hard, Cole nodded and backed out of the room.
Once in the corridor, he dropped onto the bench outside the room, his head falling into his hands.
I can’t handle this… I can’t… I fucking can’t handle it…
He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, his throat clogging with sobs.
His head pounded until he grew dizzy. Just let me die…
maybe he’ll stop if I’m dead… maybe he’ll leave them alone.
If he really believed that… Cole wouldn’t hesitate to take himself out—not if his death would save his family and friends. But the madman wouldn’t stop if he lost out on his chance to torture Cole; he would become enraged and prolong their suffering.
“Cole?”
Clearing his throat, Cole raised his head, his vision distorted with tears. Devlin stood before him with Deputy Roland. “Gabe wants his clothes,” Cole said, his words raspy, hollow.
Devlin looked concerned as he glanced at the door to Gabe’s room. “Is he out of bed?”
Cole lowered his head and nodded.
“Dammit,” Devlin murmured and entered the room.
Cole stared at the floor, the tips of Roland’s boots just within his line of sight. “Did you call them?” Cole whispered.
“I did.” Roland sat beside him. “The local police will contact the FBI and get them here as soon as possible.”
His head felt heavy and light, as if it were simultaneously filled with helium and cement. “It won’t matter.” He lifted his eyes, despair emanating from him. “You know that, right?”
The deputy sighed. “I know.”
“They don’t understand what he is, not really.
” Cole swallowed. “They still think he’s just a man, a dangerous man, but still just a man.
” He sniffed. “But he isn’t. He’s a monster…
a real monster.” His eyes sank back to the floor, his voice dropping to hardly more than a shuddered whisper, “Not a man at all.”
Dane slowed when he spotted Cole on the bench outside Gabe’s room, and Deputy Roland sitting beside him like a comforting friend. Anxiety twisted up his gut; what if this man was a monster in disguise? A wolf in sheep’s clothing. They would know more when Clint got back to them after his call.
Until then? Dane didn’t know. Maybe try to keep the deputy there with them?
The deputy saw Dane before Cole noticed him. Dane met his eyes briefly, then looked at Cole, afraid the man would detect his suspicion.
“Cole…” Dane touched his friend’s shoulder and bent down, pressing his lips to his hair.
“We’re going to get through this, babe,” he murmured.
“All of us, together.” He felt the deputy’s eyes on him.
Was he imagining the contempt wafting off the man?
Or was it his own suspicions creating that feeling?
What if he was wrong and the deputy was only trying to help?
Wait till you hear from Clint, then decide. Until then—stay alert.
“He can’t be trusted to let them go,” Cole whispered sickly. “He doesn’t only want Gabe… he wants everyone I love.”
Dane slid his arm around his shoulders and hugged him. “He isn’t going to win. We’re not losing anyone.” Dane trembled inside and prayed for that to be true.
Cole wilted against Dane. “Maybe he already has.” His words trembled, resonating with despair.
“What do you mean?”
Cole sniffed and lifted his head a little, his eyes watery with unshed tears, his face flushed and streaked with tears.
“Even if we get everyone back safe… things won’t be the same between Gabe and me.
” His throat worked, and fresh tears spilled out.
“He will want it to be… but it won’t. My dad will still win… because I’ll still lose Gabe.”
“Cole…” Dane kissed his head and glanced at the deputy. The man watched them in silence. Dane couldn’t decipher if the “sympathy” on his face was genuine or generated.
Byrne leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor.
From the outside, he imagined it looked as if he were sympathizing with the distraught man—which was good—when in truth, he was attempting to hide the erection growing in his shorts.
Henry’s pain and despair were a potent aphrodisiac unlike anything he’d experienced before—even stronger than the thrill of gutting a victim while buried inside them.
From the instant he learned of Henry’s existence, this is what he’d wanted: Henry suffering. The utter soul-destroying torment of losing everything that made his life worth living.
Now you know how it feels, you little fuck. I hope it fucking hurts like hell.
Byrne didn’t care for the looks he received from the man, Dane, though.
Did he not trust him? Byrne had done his damnedest to play the caring, sympathetic friend, and everyone had seemed to buy it.
But he wasn’t so sure about this handsome fucker.
He didn’t like the way the man kept checking his phone, as if he were expecting a call or a text, and the way his eyes repeatedly darted down the corridor, seeming to search for someone.
Who was he expecting?
Byrne lifted his hat and ran his hand over his shaved head. Dane glanced at him, his eyes resting on Byrne’s wrist—and the braided leather bracelet. Byrne lowered his arm and casually tugged down the sleeve of his jacket. He’d forgotten about the bracelet; if Henry saw it, the jig would be up.
Rising from the bench, Byrne said, “I’m going to step out and get some air.” He addressed Henry, who lifted his head. “When your husband is ready, I can drive him to the rendezvous point and make the trade.” He injected care and softness into his voice. “And bring the others back.”
Dane straightened. “Thanks, but I’ll take him.”
“I know Daniel Pruett,” Byrne said. “I was his deputy back then. Maybe I can reason with him.”
“He can’t be reasoned with,” Henry whispered.
“Maybe not,” Byrne said. “But I can try.”
Dane stared at him with a hint of scrutiny. “If he’s just one man, and he has Abel and the kids right there to make the trade… what’s stopping you and Gabe from subduing him?”
“He will consider that course of action on your part,” Byrne said. “He won’t make it that easy. He will make sure he maintains the upper hand. And if he suspects you’re planning to double-cross him, it could put your people in serious danger.”
“They’re already in serious danger,” Dane snapped back.
Byrne nodded. “What you do is up to you. I’ll be parked out front if you decide to have me drive him.”
“Gabe… you shouldn’t be up and around.” As the words left Devlin, he was aware of the absurdity of them, considering the circumstances. But as a doctor, it was instinct to consider a patient’s welfare.
“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” Gabe said tightly. “Abel…” His voice cut out, and he looked at Devlin with tears in his eyes. “The kids… Abel—our baby— are in danger , Devlin.” He seemed about to break down. “Nothing else matters except getting them back safely.”
“I know,” Devlin whispered, barely holding himself together. “But what if… what if he doesn’t give them back? What if he just takes you, too?”
Gabe shook his head. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He sniffed. “Get me some clothes.”
Sighing, Devlin nodded in resignation. “I’m not sure where your clothes are, but…” He shrugged. “… but maybe I can get you some clean smocks. It’s the best I can do.”
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t care. Just hurry.”
Devlin turned toward the door.
“Send Cole back in.”
“All right,” Devlin murmured and exited the room.
Dane sat with Cole on the bench in the corridor. The deputy was gone. “Where’s Deputy Roland?”
“Outside,” Dane said and met Devlin’s eyes. “He wants to take Gabe to make the trade.”