Chapter 7 Confession
? Arden ?
There were three commanders blackmailed into honing Creed, and none of them knew the definition of mercy.
They marched us lower than the cells, past steel doors I hadn’t known existed.
What waited was an arena. Trenches cut into concrete.
Ropes vanishing into shadow. The Yard. That’s what the commanders called that place, but Creed knew it as it was—another fucking hell.
We ran until our feet bled. We carried logs across our shoulders, sandbags lashed to our backs, whistles screaming in our ears. If you fell, a commander kicked you until you found your feet again. Stopping wasn’t an option. Ever.
Halden gave us a small mercy when we neared the end of our first year—an ASL instructor. It was supposed to help our communication, make us truly unstoppable, because if Rafe could understand us, then there would be nothing we couldn’t kill.
“Right, left, and forward,” the instructor said.
She was pretty in her late thirties with blond hair and a petite frame.
I remember thinking she looked far too innocent for the compound with her slicked back, tidy bun and crisp, winged eyeliner.
I wasn’t even sure she knew exactly who she was instructing or where she was, but there was a day we came in beaten and the smile she always offered disappeared.
She’d gone pale, swallowed hard, and simply went through the list of signs again: right, left, forward.
She’d make the sign and point at the word on the whiteboard behind her so that Rafe would understand.
The thing was…he didn’t. That became evident as we went into drill after drill, Thorne, Kane, and I using the signs but Rafe fucking up repeatedly.
“We learned ASL for you!” Kane shouted, flicking between the signs.
We stood in our cell, the three of us surrounding Rafe where he sat on the edge of his bed, holding his head and looking at the floor. Kane snapped his fingers down in Rafe’s line of sight, and finally he looked up at us, his jaw hard and dark eyes blank. “What the fuck, man?” Kane growled.
“I didn’t go through what I went through,” Thorne said, grabbing Rafe’s shoulder and dropping to a kneel so their gazes were level, “only to die for your fucking pride. Do you understand? You need to step up.”
I watched Thorne and Kane go back and forth while Rafe said nothing. There was a moment where Rafe’s gaze shifted to mine, and there was such a deep torment hidden there, it made me grab Kane and Thorne. “Back off,” I hissed and tugged on them.
Kane cursed and shook me away. “Arden, he’s going to get us killed.”
“And?” I asked, turning my dead expression to his. “So what Kane? Is there something you’re chasing after? That you have to live for?”
Kane wavered. Pain cracked over his expression, the first I’d witnessed in months.
“Yes,” he breathed. “You. All off us. That is worth something. We are worth something. We may not talk anymore, but we remain Creed. That’s not something Viktor made or Halden made.
Creed is us. It’s what we are when we’re together.
That seizes to exist if one of us bows out. ”
“Then back the fuck off,” I said again. My voice was flat, every bit of emotion long ironed out of my tone. “We don’t attack each other.” Then with slightly more venom, "Besides, if anyone should yell at Rafe for being punished by his failure to comply, it should be me."
I'd seen the inside of Room 82 over a dozen times that week.
I could barely walk, so raw and torn between my legs that Dr. Davidson had to provide me with pad-lined underwear.
My only consolation was being able to get access to my lighter when I went in.
I'd acquired a few more burn wounds, but it was clear Halden enjoyed it when I killed the Buyers.
The quicker I did, the quicker I was back to my cot and able to rest.
I looked to Thorne, yearning still burrowed in my chest for who we used to be, how we used to be. “If Rafe wants to die for his pride, we let him. That’s his choice, and it’s the only fucking choice we get. If this is it for him, then let it be.”
Thorne stared at me. Then he nodded once, succinct, before he climbed into his bunk without a word.
Kane, however, wasn't ready to let it go. He shoved at Rafe's shoulder, forcing Rafe's gaze up to his. "I thought you loved her, man," Kane spit. "Look at her. She can barely stand because of you."
"Kane," I snapped, grasping the frame of the bunk to steady myself. "This is not his fault. Don't you dare put that on him."
"Yes, it is, Arden," Kane argued. "I know you're used to being nothing more than a well-used whore, but that doesn't make it right."
I flinched, and his eyes softened.
"Jesus, I didn't mean that," Kane backtracked, but it was too late.
The words were sinking down inside me. It was one thing to think something like that about yourself, but it was another thing to hear it from someone you looked up to.
"Arden," he tried, taking a step toward me.
"I'm a dipshit. I'm sorry. My mouth got ahead of my brain. "
But Rafe stood, jerking between us when I took a faltering step back. He wrapped a protective arm behind him, his fingers tucking me close.
Kane's nostrils flared, his anger rising again. "What? Now you want to come to her defense, you fucking hypocrite?"
Thorne jumped down from his bunk with a heavy exhale. "Brother, back up."
But Kane didn't. Him and Rafe were the same height, relatively the same build. It was impossible to know if one of them would win in a fight, or if they'd just beat each other down into mirrored pulp.
"Please, stop," I said, my voice catching.
I tugged from Rafe's grip and limped around to shove between them.
I braced my hands on their chests, forcing them apart.
Thorne steadied me, stepping behind me and pressing his hands lightly against my hips in case I fell.
"We have enough people beating on us. We don't need to do it to each other. "
Kane hooked his hands behind his head and turned away, walking to the other side of the cell and pressing his forehead into the wall. He exhaled slowly as Rafe lowered back to his cot, bracing his elbows on his knees.
"Let's get some rest," Thorne suggested. He carefully let go of my waist. "You okay, little flame? Do you need help getting into bed?"
I shook my head. "No. Thanks."
Thorne watched me, his brows drawn in worry. His fingers came up and grazed one of my fresh bandages on my bicep. "Another burn?"
I pressed my lips together, not wanting to talk about it.
He frowned but left me be, going to his brother and steering Kane's shoulders toward their bunks. With reluctance, Kane climbed up, peering over the edge at me with a guilty expression. "Arden," he said softly. "I'm sorry."
I couldn't look at him. "Go to sleep, Kane," I muttered.
With a breath, I turned toward my cot only to be stopped by a firm grip wrapping around my wrist. I stood there, just breathing in and out, my eyes fluttering shut as I kept my back to Rafe.
His hand was warm and calloused and alive.
I was a hypocrite. I really was. I said what I said to Thorne and Kane about not really caring if Rafe wanted to die, but I couldn’t fathom a life without any of them and especially him.
There hadn’t been a shadow in my life that Rafe Creed hadn’t also been pulled into, and I didn’t know how I was meant to survive the dark without his presence.
I just couldn’t, and I hated what he was choosing.
He tugged softly on my arm, and I turned to face him.
My heart thundered when I saw the red rim of his waterline and the tears he was holding back.
The lights to our cell shut off, casting us in pitch black, and his grip tightened on my wrist. It felt desperate and seeking like he was trying to tell me something and he didn’t know how, but I was angry.
If he put aside his pride and tried in that fucking ASL class, then he could’ve told me exactly what he needed.
I yanked my arm free and moved to my bunk, rolling onto my side so I covered my good ear. If I’d done it quicker, I would’ve missed it, but I’d paused slightly when I was lifting my sheet to cover me, and in that one second, I heard Rafe speak for the very first time.
It was rough, distorted, and the cadence was off. There was so much pain in the words, not metaphorical pain, but physical pain like speaking was agonizing for him to do.
I shot up from my bed.
“Holy fuck, did Rafe just talk?” Kane asked, jumping down from his bunk in the dark with a grunt. Thorne was down just as fast, the three of us blinking blindly. Our eyes slowly adjusted, the tiniest bit of light emanating from the steady recording light of the cameras.
I could barely make out Rafe still hunched on the edge of his bed, his head was down, so he didn’t even realize we were all there again, ready to listen.
I gently pressed my hand to his knee, and the bed creaked when he startled.
I could make out his head panning slightly, the way he shifted uncomfortably at our presence.
I sucked in a breath and took his hand, bringing it up to my mouth. “Tell us.”
Kane and Thorne peered at me. Thorne chuckled under his breath while Kane let another string of curses fly. “You’re fucking kidding me, Arden,” Kane growled. “You’ve had a way to talk to Rafe and you never told us?”
I glared in their direction, lowering Rafe’s hand a moment. “If you’d tried, you’d know he can read lips like this.”
They fell silent at that, but not for long.
“That isn’t fair,” Thorne argued, his voice soft. “We have tried. Rafe’s never let anyone as close as you.”
I inhaled deeply and brought Rafe’s fingers back to my lips. “Rafe,” I said, “talk to us.”
He ripped his hand away like I’d hit him, but I shook my head and yanked his fingers back with a firm grip.