Page 40 of Glutton for Punishment

“Please.” My voice cracks.

She breathes deeply and looks up at me, red hair tangling around her face; she’s unsteady but upright. She’s in pain, but she’s trying to hide it.

For my benefit…

I’ve never felt so useless.

“I’m okay,” she murmurs. She crosses the small distance between us and presses her hands into mine, her grip weaker than it should be but still deliberate.

“You are clearly not,” I reply, quieter now, forcing some semblance of composure back into my voice. My thumb shifts against her wrist, careful of the burns. “They’re escalating. That mark alone…”

“Atticus.” She interrupts my spiral. There’s a softness to it, but also a warning. “We’re getting out of here. They will not break us.”

The certainty in her tone is… irrational. And yet, I believe her.

Maybe it was watching everything she overcame this past year.

I study her for a moment longer before nodding once. “Your stone,” I say, voice low and controlled again. “Go. They’ve been gone a while.”

She hesitates for half a second and slips away toward the partitioned bathroom area.

The moment she disappears from view, the silence closes in again as I try to think of any pattern they are showing or a weakness in routine. Something we can exploit.

I’m halfway through retracing the last few days in my mind when the sound of the prison door echoes through the dank chamber.

My stomach tightens before I even see him, my rage crossing a boundary it hasn’t before.

By the time he steps into the dim light of the corridor, I’m already moving, already at the bars again, braced for impact as I slam my body into the iron.

Ryker Blaise.

He looks the same as when I last saw him at the academy. As if this place is just another extension of his world instead of the rot at its core.

I catch the flicker of surprise he tries to hide. “What the fuck are you doing here, Blaise?”

“Willshire?”

Ryker’s voice carries with amusement through the corridor, smooth with surprise. He slows as he steps into the light, taking me in like this is some unexpected inconvenience rather than a prison.

“Well, well,” he continues, a lazy smirk pulling at his mouth. “I suppose that explains your sudden disappearance. You always had a flair for dramatic exits.”

His gaze flicks to the bars, then back to me, assessing.

“They give you the penthouse of cells?” he adds. “I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.”

“You piece of shit,” I spit, the words cutting through the space between us. “My father will flay you and your entire family alive when he finds out about this.”

My voice lowers, but it doesn’t soften. “How could you do this to her?” I demand with fury.

Ryker doesn’t answer.

He just watches me for a moment, that same infuriating calm settling over his features, before his attention drifts past me entirely—toward the empty cell next to mine.

“Where is she?” he asks casually, glancing around. “I’m on a timeline. "

The audacity of it almost blacks out my vision.

“You think you deserve to speak to her?” I grit out, voice dropping into something far colder. “After everything you’ve done, you don’t get to look at her. You don’t get to breathe the same air.”