IGNITE

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

EZRA

“Do you believe in God, Leo?” Mason asks, easing my head back with his hand tangled in my hair.

I should scream and spit and lash out at him, but I can’t seem to find the will to do anything except fall apart. Robbed of my sight by the blindfold, all of my muscles are tensed up in anticipation of what he’s going to do next.

“I… I don’t know,” I admit.

“An agnostic, then. That’s okay. I never shared religion with you. Your lack of faith is as much my fault as it is yours. I’ll do better with you this time.”

Mason slides his fingers down to my jaw. My throat bobs, every part of me chilled and itching like I’m covered in insects. Nerves fire messages of warning that make me squirm and whimper.

I can’t do this again. I don’t want to do this.

My brain tells me even if I get out of this situation, I may never get myself back to a good place. Why does he get to be in charge of plugging and unplugging pathways in my brain?

“Kill me. Please just kill me,” I plead, tears leaking from beneath the soaked blindfold.

Mason withdraws his hand.

“I’m offended, Leo. Were our times together so bad? You never opposed. You were so malleable, weren’t you?”

I can’t find any fire within me to counter that I was a fucking child. He was an adult. One who should have cared for me properly. I shouldn’t have had to tell him I didn’t want his touch. That my body didn’t belong to him.

Cold fingers drift down my arms, tracing over scars.

“No track marks. I suppose that’s a blessing. Though we’ll still need to cleanse you before I take you home. Who knows what you’ve picked up in our time apart.”

I let out a horrible sob, my mind giving into hopelessness as his hand brushes over my abs. It dips lower, a knuckle sneaking under the waistband of my pants.

“No one has touched you here, I pray,” Mason murmurs.

I shudder, bile rising in my throat. Even if I could manage a response, the glorious sound of gunfire pops off from somewhere in the church. Mason’s uttered curses are my salvation. My heart skips in my chest, and I push myself upright in the chair.

Cain’s here.

The doors creak open, and the room is filled with the echoes of shouting and guns exploding, a symphony to my ears.

I’m left alone and blind to fight with my restraints, unsure of how much time I have to try to get free before Mason returns. I struggle against the rope hard enough to draw fresh blood from my raw wrists and ankles.

My body locks up when the doors creak open once more.

“Ezra.”

Another sob escapes me at the sound of Cain’s voice. “You came.”

Quick swipes of a knife free my hands and feet. I push the blindfold off my head and launch myself into Cain’s awaiting arms. He catches me with a grunt, dropping to his knees. I bury my head into his neck. “You came. You’re here.”

“Baby.” Cain eases me back, and I glimpse pain etched into his face.

My mind sharpens instantly. “What’s wrong?”

I search his body for signs of injury, dread pooling in my stomach when I glimpse the blood soaking through the back of his pants. “Cain, you’re hurt. Why are you hurt?”