Elijah was so fucking beautiful it sometimes hurt to look at him.
When Chase and Richard walked into his room, Elijah was asleep in the bed. Ashen, gaunt, with dark circles shadowing his eyes, but there was no changing his thick shiny hair, the long eyelashes, or the way his full pillowy lips parted in sleep. His sleek body and elegant limbs—how looking at him just made Chase want to pull him close. Protect him.
“Is he sedated?” Chase asked roughly.
Richard walked around the bed, his impassive face unchanged even as he dragged two fingers along Elijah’s cheek. “No. He’s sleeping.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s pretty exhausted.” Anger boiled inside of Chase, threatening to spill over and expose itself to Richard. And that couldn’t happen. This had been his idea. His plan. “But at least it doesn’t look like your creepy clones put their hands on him.”
Richard flicked another look over Elijah. “The staff was informed that he wasn’t to be physically touched.”
“Yeah? Why didn’t they get that directive last time around?”
“Because last time I didn’t know my foolish son was in love with him.”
Chase raised a brow. “And that activates your care factor?”
Irritation lit Richard’s expression, the first sign of life since they’d walked into the room. “It’s time to leave your bitterness in the past if you’re going to be part of this. Whatever perceived failings you think I had as a father—”
“You mean treating me like a science project while you raised your other son? Those failings?”
Richard’s lips pursed, and he inhaled deeply, slowly. “Chase.”
“Daddy-o.”
“It’s time you leave your resentment toward me in the past, as well as your jealousy of Holden.” When Chase’s lips twisted into a snarl, Richard raised a cautioning hand. “Let’s be blunt, Chase. I bet on the wrong horse when it came to my family. Twice. But now it’s over, and you’re the one who’s here. And I’m rewarding you for it.” Richard waved his hand toward Elijah without looking at him. “If what you thought was favoritism of Holden was at the root of your distrust and animosity, rest assured there is no need to feel anger anymore. I am focused on you. And soon, your Elijah will be as well.”
Chase could only stare at his father and experience an inferno of rage like he had never felt before. But he kept his body still and his lips in the same mocking expression, because Richard would expect nothing else.
“Enjoy,” Richard said. “And learn to be gracious.”
He swept from the room with another penetrating glare, and twisted the lock behind him. It was a pointless gesture considering the staff all had keys to the doors, but the implication was clear. He’d just given Chase permission to “enjoy” his “reward.” In less than a minute, he’d relegated Elijah from a member of the Community to a sex toy. An object. Someone lesser than him, than them, and therefore not worthy of humanity.
How had Chase not seen his father for what he was? How the fuck had he thought . . .
The sound of Elijah whimpering in his sleep wiped all Chase’s chaotic thoughts away. It was ridiculous how any word or movement or breath from Elijah captured him so completely, and how even now there was no changing it. Whatever was between him and Elijah, and whether it was solely on his side or not, it wasn’t going anywhere.
He crossed the room to sit on the bed next to Elijah, and put a hand on his face, fingers curling just slightly to tangle in his thick curls. Chase had only meant to caress him, to try to soothe whatever dream or nightmare had wrenched that sound from his throat. To be gentle while he was sleeping because that was the only time Chase could bring himself to worship the soft skin the way it deserved to be. But he ended up doing more.
Chase opened a channel between his mind and Elijah’s, and prepared to delve into the other man’s memories. He was going to relive the past two weeks so he could feel everything Elijah had felt, and punish himself the way they’d punished Elijah. It was his fault Elijah was here. He’d been brought as a threat, and now he was being used as a gift.
Chase closed his eyes and slid into Elijah’s mind.
The floor was cold under his feet, and the chill in the air was so consistent it slid into his bones. And he hurt. He hurt from standing in the middle of the room, for hours, without the ability to go to the bathroom. Without water.
“Fuck,” Elijah whispered, his voice low and choked with tears. He looked up, rage ripping through him to railroad the discomfort and fear. “Fuck you all!”
“Why are you angry, Elijah?”
“Because you fucking people are punishing me for not wanting to be one of you! It’s my choice. It’s my life.”
The last words scraped out low and raw and desperate. Elijah trembled, his teeth chattering, his body rebelling on him and his ability to remain in control.
“Why are you angry right now? Right at this moment?”
The voice was low, mellow, and unrecognizable. Maybe a woman’s voice, but when Elijah looked at her it was impossible to fully make out her characteristics. His eyes were blurry and strained, and her face was so ordinary it could be any of the other people who’d come into his room to question him.
“Because you’re monsters.”
“Elijah . . . tell me what you want. Right now. More than anything. What would change the way you’re feeling?”
The trembling intensified, and a sob bubbled in his chest. “If you’d please just let me go. Just leave me alone. Please.”
“Elijah.” Her voice was so patient, but there was another emotion thickening it. Almost as if . . . she cared. “What could help you right at this moment?”
“Fuck.” He clenched his fingers into fists. “Just let me sit down! Please. Just let me fucking sit down.”
“I want you to sit down, Elijah. I want you to feel better. But you won’t help me help you.”
Elijah shook his head, the tears welling in his eyes. “What does that mean? I don’t understand.”
“Answer the questions,” she said, lowering her voice as if in confidence. “And we can get you rested and fed. Just answer the questions for me.”
The small white room filled with the sound of his sobs, and his tears began to flow so steadily that they slid down his face and dripped onto the floor. “Please . . .”
“Why did you leave Wisconsin, Elijah?”
Elijah gritted his teeth, hands balled up and body hunched.
“Answer the question, and let me help you. Why did you leave Wisconsin? After you moved in with your grandparents, you said it should have been safe. So, why did you leave?”
“Because my grandfather said he would fucking kill me if I didn’t stop being gay!” Elijah wrapped his arms around himself, the shivering wracking his slight frame. “He saw me with a kid from Church, and he said if I didn’t start acting like a boy and not a pervert, he would—he would cut—” The rest of the sentence was choked off in a garble of syllables and sobs.
The questioner moved closer, put a hand on his shoulder, and asked, “Did he hurt you, Elijah?”
He shook his head. “But I was so scared that he would. So I ran. And while I was running . . . I saw . . . New York. I saw Chase and Holden. Evolution.”
“You saw the Community.”
Elijah tensed further, shaking violently, and nodded his head.
“And how did it make you feel, Elijah? When you saw the vision of your future within the Community?”
He gnashed his teeth, tasting warm iron in his mouth.
“Tell me how you felt. Help me help you.”
“God,” he moaned. “Please just leave me alone. Please.”
“Then answer the question, and let yourself rest. Do this for yourself, Elijah. Not for me. Not for the Community. Do it for yourself.”
Another anguished whimper, and then, “I felt relieved! I felt hope. I felt—I felt like . . . I could belong somewhere.”
She nodded slowly, face appearing to soften. “Did y
ou not belong with us, Elijah?”
He clenched his jaw so tight his head hurt. The throb joined the rest of the pain in his body until it was all encompassing, and he felt like he would collapse. Right there.
“Did you feel a sense of belonging in the Community?”
“Yes! It was the happiest I’d been in my life!”
The appearance of relief bloomed on her face when Elijah finally looked up with his swollen, aching eyes.
“Lay down, Elijah. And I’ll bring you something to eat.”
He dropped to the floor like his strings had been cut, a shaking pile of limbs, messy hair damp from his tears, and muffled cries.
Chase opened his eyes and slid his hand away from Elijah’s face. Slowly, he raised it to touch his own cheek, and was amazed to find it damp. Elijah’s tears had become his tears. All that pain and hopelessness. The fear and all those building doubts at the end . . . had become his own.
He inhaled slowly, surprised when it shuddered audibly, and tried to take deep calming breaths. All the while, he stared down at Elijah. The pinched brow and dark circles. How exhausted and thin he was.
If Chase compared the torture he’d endured for his entire childhood, the mind games they’d played with Elijah might look like nothing. But that was wrong. The ability to turn someone as strong, as durable, as Elijah into a mess of self-doubt and guilt, actual fucking guilt, was incredible.
For the first time, Chase doubted his own self-assurance that Elijah would make it through this. The fear welling in Elijah’s chest became his own, and it drove Chase to lean down and brush his lips against Elijah’s temple. Then across each closed eye, the tip of his nose, and then his mouth.
Elijah made another soft sound, but he sighed through the kiss.
“Chase . . .”
Chase started to pull away, but Elijah’s hand shot up to hold him in place. There was strength in that grip that should have been impossible given the past two weeks, but Elijah’s fingers dug into him hard enough to cause pain. A desperate clawing grip that sent chills down Chase’s spine.
“Is this real?” Elijah whispered, his eyes cracking open. Only a glint of damp dark brown showed beneath his feathery lashes. “Are you really here this time?”
Chase’s relief was so powerful that a lump swelled in his throat. He tried to clear it, but it still came out shaky. “I’m here.”
Elijah opened his eyes wider, a trembling smile growing on his face. “Did I do good?”
The burning behind Chase’s eyes meant fucking nothing. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to let Elijah see him break. He wasn’t.
“You did fucking perfect, baby.”
His voice cracked on the last syllable. Dampness welled at the corners of his eyes, so Chase buried his face in Elijah’s hair. It smelled like soap, like someone had scrubbed him clean with some hospital-grade crap that didn’t belong on Elijah’s carefully tended curls. God, everything about this was wrong. Elijah being here in this room, having been in the silo, having staff members haul him around and treat him like a prisoner. It was an alternate reality. It had to be.
Elijah’s hand slid over to rub Chase’s back. He didn’t say anything when Chase’s shoulders began to shake, or when the tears dampened his hair. He just rubbed soothing circles between Chase’s shoulder blades.
“Are you okay?”
Chase guttered out a rough laugh. “You’re asking me?” He shifted onto the bed so he was next to Elijah, curled onto his side and positioned so close his lips brushed Elijah’s ear. “You’re the one that just got mind-fucked for two weeks.”
Elijah turned his head enough to see Chase. He licked chapped lips. “Is that how long it was? I . . . I couldn’t tell.”
“Two weeks,” Chase confirmed. “And I couldn’t get into your head until last night. I had no idea what they were doing to you.”
A shudder went through Elijah again, reminding Chase of the memory he’d just witnessed. Elijah closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself. “A lot of it was just them talking,” he said hoarsely. “Just constant talking, questioning, and then . . . the music and the cold, and only enough food to keep me from keeling over so they could question me more. But they never touched me.”
“They tortured you,” Chase growled. “And I’ll fucking kill them for it. I swear to God, I’ll murder them all.”
Elijah shook his head just slightly, his eyes still shut. “It won’t do anything. Change anything. It happened already. And the worst part is . . . The worst part is that it was working.” The disgust was thick in his voice as he went on. “By the end of the first week, I doubted everything I’d ever believed about myself. Holden, Lia, Nate. I questioned whether I knew what I was talking about or whether it was all just . . . just lines I’d been fed. Disinformation from a group who wants to take the Community down due to their own agenda. How the fuck could I ever— How was I so quickly . . .”
“Don’t doubt yourself. And don’t feel bad.” Chase propped himself up on his arm so he could stare down at Elijah’s face. The agony was evident, and it caused his protectiveness to rear up again. “These people spent years programming me to the extent of my entire body shutting down if I even thought of leaving. It’s what they do. That it’s not still working on me now is a miracle.”
“But they did worse things to you. You had Jasper trying to take your head apart.” Elijah squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching. “It barely took them anything to make me feel like I was losing part of myself. And the things I said . . .”
“About your family?”
Elijah finally looked at him. “How did you know?”
“I saw it.”
Shame crept in further until Elijah focused on the window. The view was of the trees stretching out beyond the property and the dark blue of the sky.
“I never talk about them,” Elijah whispered. “Ever since I went to the CW for the counseling sessions, when I unloaded and realized it’d all been recorded, I don’t talk about what happened in Wisconsin.”
“Why, though? Fuck them. There’s no reason to feel bad for talking about some pieces of shit who threatened to hurt you.”
“I know. But this is . . . this is part of my problem. Someone can hurt me, or something, and I’ll still feel this awful guilt deep inside my chest because even though they did that bad thing . . . does that bad thing outweigh all the good?” Elijah wiped a forearm across his eyes, forcing out an ironic laugh. “Isn’t that so stupid? My mother didn’t protect me from her boyfriend. And my grandfather basically threatened to kill me for being gay, but all I can think of is how . . . even though he was raised as a hard-core homophobe, he did everything possible to support me and my mom after my dad died. So did my abuela. They fought against so much racism where we came from, put together an amazing life for us, and . . . yet . . .”
“There is no and yet.” Chase grabbed Elijah’s jaw, forcing their gazes to lock. “Just because someone gave you life, helped you keep that life, doesn’t give them the right to betray you or threaten to take it away when you don’t meet their expectations or . . . if you’re not as useful as they want you to be. If you don’t obey the way they wanted you to obey.”
Elijah looked miserable, but his breathing evened again. “Is that how you feel about the Community?”
Was it? Chase had no clue. There was so much resentment and hate and anger wrapped up with the same level of brainwashed loyalty that Elijah had just discussed, that trying to figure out the answer to that question would take days. Weeks. A lifetime of unraveling all the different webs now that he was finally able to really pick it all apart and discuss it.
“I don’t know how I feel about anything,” Chase said. “Except knowing that when it comes down to the wire, I’m going to protect myself and my people. And that I will fight until the very end to keep my people safe. And fuck—maybe that’s why even before their programming stopped working on me, I could reach out to Nate. To try to warn you. I never was before. No
t until . . .”
“The disappearances?”
Really, it had started with that burning need to protect Elijah. To get him out before something happened to him. Ever since Richard had started showing interest in Evolution, and especially after he’d placed Beck there, the entire place had felt like a bomb on the verge of exploding. And Chase had wanted Elijah out.
But he nodded. “When it came down to it, and it was me feeling like my head was going to cave in, or me protecting someone I needed to protect, I picked the other person every single time.”
Elijah nodded slowly, searching every centimeter of Chase’s face. “Hero.”
Chase snarled. “Shut up.”
Elijah’s mouth twitched in the first hint of a mischievous smile. “It’s true. You’re a punked-out ragey cynical bastard, but you have hero potential. And even if you don’t like or care about me outside of friendship or sex, I care about you, Chase. So much. So fucking much. God, you have no idea how you were my lifeline. How you saved me. How much I—”
Chase brushed their lips together again, hushing Elijah before he could finish the sentence. Elijah slanted his mouth so their tongues could slide together, and the sensation fired up Chase’s sex drive in an instant.
They pulled away with a wet smack of lips, and Elijah once again gripping him. He was staring at Chase’s mouth with outright hunger, and that sent another blast of arousal through Chase.
“Get your strength up, Elijah,” he uttered in a gravelly voice. “’Cause Big Daddy Payne sure as fuck expects you to be my beta sex kitten from now on.”
Elijah half scoffed, half laughed. “God, I can do that. Just as soon as I feel like physical activity won’t cause my soul to escape my body.”
Chase kissed him again, firm and brief. “We got this as long as you keep your shield up. Keep them out of your head and they’ll have no idea that the show we’re about to put on is the first act in the play called ‘Smash This Bitch to the Ground and Get Out.’”
The conference call with Kyger and Hale was odd for two reasons. The first being that Richard had demanded Chase sit in the room only two weeks after their fake-ass man-to-man discussion while touring the Farm. He’d assumed it would take longer for his father to start trusting him.
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