Chapter 2

I stumbled into our room, the one Rex and I shared.

It felt alien now, a cage I hadn' t seen.

The bed, the dresser, his leather jacket slung over a chair – everything was a lie.

I sank onto the edge of the mattress, my body trembling.

"Silas loved it... best show..."

Rex' s words echoed, cruel and clear.

Marcus: "Worth the trouble then."

Their voices, so casual, discussing the destruction of our lives like it was a business transaction.

My mind flashed back.

The dark highway. The roar of strange bikes.

Clare screaming my name.

Headlights blinding me.

The crash, the pain, the terror.

Then Rex, his face like an angel in the chaos, pulling me from the wreckage of my car.

Marcus was there too, getting Clare.

Rex held me, told me I was safe. His eyes, so concerned.

"Don't worry, Amy. I got you. They won't hurt you anymore."

Lies.

All lies.

He wasn' t saving me. He was collecting me.

He' d orchestrated that horror. He' d planned for those men to attack us, to make us desperate.

To make us need him.

And Marcus... Clare' s Marcus. He was in on it too.

"Clare still wakes up screaming sometimes. But she clings to me after."

The thought made me sick. He used her terror, her trauma, to bind her to him.

And Silas.

"Silas got a real kick out of them being so broken."

Who was this woman? This Silas, who fed on our pain?

Rex and Marcus, the powerful leaders of The Devil' s Brigade, were puppets dancing for her amusement.

And we, Amy and Clare, were the broken toys in their show.

I remembered the weeks after the "ambush."

Rex was so gentle. He stayed by my side, brought me food, held my hand while I cried.

He told me I was strong, a survivor.

He made me feel cherished.

He made me fall in love with him.

All of it, every touch, every word, a carefully crafted deceit.

He wanted my vulnerability. He wanted my bike, my beautiful, custom-built machine, a piece of my soul.

He' d mentioned it even then, how a bike like that could attract the wrong attention.

He was planting the seeds of fear, making himself the only safe harbor.

And Clare. Sweet, artistic Clare.

She' d been so vibrant before. The ambush had stolen something from her, a light in her eyes.

Marcus had seemed like her rock, her stoic protector.

Now I saw it. He wasn' t protecting her. He was caging her, just like Rex was caging me.

Their motive? To indebt us. To impress Silas.

Our suffering was a currency.

A twisted gift.

I wrapped my arms around myself, a cold knot of anger and betrayal tightening in my stomach.

They thought we' d never know.

They underestimated us.

They underestimated me.

The love I felt for Rex curdled into something dark and bitter.

He wasn't my savior. He was my captor.

And I would find a way out of this. For me. And for Clare.