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“No! Stop! Please!” Will’s voice is hoarse and carries the weight of exhaustion. “Don’t do this!”

How could she possibly single-handedly subdue him? He isn’t shackled to the wall like Titus. I didn’t notice a weapon on her.

I lurch toward the door, but pause at a hard grip on my arm. Panic twists my guts inside out, when I look down to find Titus’s fingers curled around my wrist. Only this time, there’s no fluttering of my stomach. I’ve seen murder in this man’s eyes, and I have no doubt what he’s capable of now. Lifting my gaze to his, I open my mouth to protest, and he gives a silent shake of his head, his eyes darkening with warning.

Every cell in my body quivers with fear, and I wonder if he’ll crack my bones in half. If he’s angry about earlier, when I interrupted his kill.

Will cries out again over the sound of Agatha’s moans that seem to escalate. Twisting my wrist to break free is futile in Titus’s steel grasp, and tears gather in my eyes as I listen to her violating my friend in the next cell. Jaw locked with the grinding of my teeth, I anchor my gaze on Titus, who hasn’t yet looked away from me. Unless I’m mistaken, there’s a sadness that swirls in the depths of his eyes, maybe a kindred understanding. Maybe she’s done this to him, too. The desire to hurt her coils inside of me like a poisonous snake ready to strike out.

He’s right, though. If I fight her, I’ll undoubtedly end up like Lindsay.

For the sake of Will’s freedom, and my own, I have to keep my wits about me.

“Why doesn’t he fight her?” Spoken barely above a whisper, my words aren’t meant for Titus to hear, so it comes as a surprise when he answers.

“It’ll be worse.”

I’ve seen evidence of worse, so I don’t doubt him. Perhaps he’s seen things, too. Horrible things that even an Alpha can’t bear, let alone Will.

Suffering seems to be the currency of this world. The unbalanced dichotomy of those who inflict, and those who endure. It’s a wonder anyone is of sound mind.

Within minutes, it’s over, and Will’s sobs carry through the walls. I want more than anything to go to him and comfort him.

Titus releases me, and with the click of the next cell’s door, I go back to pretending to fuss over his wounds.

Fastening the buttons of her top, Agatha stops in the doorway, breathing hard. “I swear I’ve never seen someone so concerned with another’s wounds. Perhaps you should stroke his cock and make him feel like a man again, Thalia. It’ll be good practice for Remus.”

A zap of pain strikes my skull when I grind my teeth so hard that spots float before my eyes. I keep my head turned, so she can’t see the tears running down my cheeks, and it’s not until she leaves that I realize I’ve dug my nails into Titus’s arm the whole time.

Quickly releasing him, I back away and swallow hard, noticing the half-crescent grooves I’ve left in his flesh.

Seemingly untroubled by it, he turns his gaze away and hikes up his knee.

I want to tell him sorry, but I can’t form a single word and shuffle out of his cell. With a quick glance toward the entrance, checking Agatha is out of sight, I dart toward Will’s door and peer in, find him lying curled up on the concrete with his back to me, his pants drawn down to his thighs.

It brings to mind the first time I met him, in elementary school back at Szolen. The other boys bullied him for his lack of athleticism and the fact that he preferred to draw, or paint, rather than play sports with them at recess. One afternoon, I found him sitting on the edge of the woods, sketching a black moon against a white sky. When I asked him why he’d reversed the colors, he told me not everything had to be as it really was.

“Will,” I whisper, my voice heavy with tears. “Will, are you … okay?”

“You should’ve let me be today in the courtyard, Thalia. You should’ve left me to die there.”

“I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He breaks into an agonized wail that tears at my heart. “I can’t take this anymore.” When he pummels his fist against his head, I curl my fingers into the window.

“Stop, please! Please, Will!” I jog toward the entrance, where Tom sits. “I need to see Will. He …. I think he’s hurt. And sick.”

“’Fraid I can’t do that. Agatha gave me strict orders to keep you out of that cell.”

“What? Why?”

“Didn’t say. And I recommend you don’t fuss about it, neither.”

I suspect even asking puts both of us at risk. “She comes down frequently, then?”

“Once a day. You better go now. I’m tellin’ you, if they haven’t already found out the two of you are friends, they will, if you keep coming down here. God help him when that happens.”

“It’s happened before?”