Page 70 of Chained

"Are you okay?"

I could have asked anything, said anything, and instead I ask if she's okay. I just dragged her from the ledge she tried to throw herself off of—of course she's not. Fuck, I'm a cunt.

She looks up, head tilted and brows furrowed. A smile itches at the corners of her lips. Yeah, she thinks it's a stupid question, too.

"Is there a right answer to that?" Her voice is a little softer than before, but still reserved.

I drag my hand through my hair, shaking my head through a laugh. "I guess not."

Silence falls again, but suddenly it isn't uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence you long for, one where your mind is clear from every invading thought—well, almost. Melina will come tonight, I know she will. After her little performance in her playroom and the small act of defiance by leaving her with her new toy, she'll come to collect. And if I'm not there…well, I value my teeth.

"I better head off. I'm glad you're okay now." I turn, inspecting the stability of the vines and praying to God they'll hold my weight enough to make the jump back over.

"Ace, wait—" Her voice startles me, the sound of my name in her mouth suddenly sounding sweeter than any lyric I've ever heard before, sending a stirring feeling in my stomach. "Will you stay, for a little longer?"

Leave. Leave now, before you're caught. I know this is stupid, that I'm risking everything I've spent years trying to protect, but I can't stop myself. Her big brown eyes search mine, waiting for an answer. One I shouldn't give, but do anyway.

"Okay, I'll stay."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She offers the smallest smile as she slides herself into the metal chair beside us that sits next to a black metal table, her hands firmly in her lap. I follow her lead, sitting opposite, finger twirling the silver ring that's sat there since Archie gave it to me as a gift. I should have thrown it, got rid of it as soon as I received it, but I couldn't. Because a part of me deep down, somewhere amongst the guilt and sickness, hid the small flicker of need for his approval.

"You never told me why you're called Ace." She avoids my gaze, and honestly, I start to avoid hers. Both of us stare out into the darkness, the only light from the moon and the small lamp inside her room. I hadn't told her, I don't really tell anyone.

"It's a long story…" I trail off, the memory of the parlour and Archie attempting to flood back in, and I try to fight it. The images, the screams that threaten to force their way inside.

"Hey," her voice sweet in my ears, somehow dragging me back into reality, "where did you go just then?"

I frown, a small bead of sweat drips from my brow, but my body is cold. "What? Oh." I shift uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly everything inside warming from her stare. "It's nothing."

"Hmm…" She sits back in her own seat, her eyes studying me further, but she doesn't push. And for that, I'm grateful.

"Are we gonna talk about what happened tonight?" I clear my throat as she contemplates the question.

"It's a long story." She smiles as if saying the words, touché. You got me. She isn't gonna talk about anything until I offer her something first. Clever, but fuck. Annoying.

"Adrian gave me the nickname. Calls me his Ace of hearts—" I don't divulge further, that I'd received it after a night of fucking misery. "My name's Jax."

"Jax, huh." She lets the reveal sit for a moment, and for once, the use of my real name doesn't make my skin crawl.

"So, the ledge? Not your smartest move." I breeze past the conversation, hoping it'll end before I stupidly give away more about myself than I want. She makes it easy to open up, which only makes her more dangerous.

"Not my smartest, no." Her face drops, lips in a straight line. "But it felt like my only move."

I nod. I know how you feel. Better than most, better than anyone. To be trapped here, stuck within these walls where death seems like the only way out.

"Can I ask something?" She leans forward, her eyes set.

"You just did." I smirk. Fuck, I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? I'm making jokes that Jarrod would roll his eyes at.

"Funny," she tuts, but the smile returns. "Have you seen the other girls? Do you know if they're okay?"

My mind strays to the box, to the small voice begging for help. Then returns to the day I brought her here with the other girls. The small blonde with the bright blue eyes. The girl in the meeting hall who Vincent slaughtered. I choke down the bile that tries to rise. I should lie, tell her they're fine, even though they're down in the cells probably being fucked raw by anyone who throws a note at their feet.

"I haven't, but if it's any consolation, they're not dead." I crack my knuckles, hoping it'll be enough to satisfy her, that it'll offer her some comfort.

"How do you know if you haven't seen them?" Her eyes are wide, so big and beautiful I could almost drown in them.