I wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t be like that here, that he could trust us not to do to him what had been done again and again and again. I wanted to make him see that he could trust me, but now that I could feel his emotions, now that I was in his head, I could taste the tinny, sour flavor of blood in his memory and see for myself the number of times he’d been forced to swallow his own.
I looked in Lucas’s eyes. I looked inside him. And no matter how hard or how far I looked, I saw nothing but hurt.
Anger and hurt and helplessness—and the desire to never be helpless again.
“I know what Shay must have been thinking when he sent me here. I know what he wants me to do, and the real kicker is that as much as I hate him, I hate myself more. I hate weakness more.”
“Lucas—” Maddy choked
