Chained (Caged #2)(30)

He held me tight as I wept, his arms holding me so securely that my already damaged body screamed in agony. But I needed that pain. It grounded me. It gave my mind something other than the nothing to concentrate on.

“Caroline, please leave us,” Anderson ordered.

Caroline didn’t answer but I heard the door close. Anderson shifted on the bed, laying us both down, and his hand cupped the back of my head, drawing me in to him.

“You need to trust that I won’t let anyone in this house that would hurt you, Kloe. You’re safe here.”

My sobs died but I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t tell him I didn’t believe him. He had hurt me so many times that I still couldn’t trust what he told me. So many lies had built so many walls of doubt inside me and it would take more than a few small words to knock them down.

Yet there was a part of me that trusted only him. He was the only person that was capable of soothing the terror inside me, of quietening the raging noise in my head. He was the only one who could take my hand and lead me blindly to where he wanted me to go. And I would go. No matter how much it scared me. Because he carried my soul with him. He always had. Fate had brought us together, and fate would take us through to the end, whatever it had in store for us.





IT HAD BEEN SEVERAL DAYS since Kloe had woken, scared and broken. Although her wounds were starting to heal, the scars on the inside were festering and decaying, the vile things Terry had done to her corroding her soul and eating her from the inside out. She wouldn’t speak of them, wouldn’t open up to me and tell me what he had done or said. She had hidden them in the depths of her, the untouchable part of her I was unable to reach no matter how much I tried.

Her sight was still hindered, not even vague outlines appearing to give us any hope. Mike hadn’t given me much of anything to go on, and although he had checked her eyes as much as Kloe would let him, and he hadn’t found any physical damage, he had mentioned bringing in an ophthalmologist.

Kloe blamed everything on her lack of sight but I could see that was just a portion of what was troubling her. She became bitter, her mood swinging one way and another. She spat hatred and bullied Caroline, forcing her away with words and physical abuse.

Her frustration was becoming intolerable, and I quickly found that although I wanted to ease her pain, take all the rotten things tormenting her and obliterate them, my patience was wearing thin.

I struggled with right and wrong, the fine line between discipline and compassion. I wanted to shake her, hurt her for trying so hard to hurt everyone that was trying to help her. Even Robbie hadn’t been able to get through to her.

The bedroom became her tomb, accommodating all the dead parts of her. Red and I were the only ones she allowed near her. But I was finding it harder and harder to control my own rage with her. I told myself that she was hurting, that Terry had in fact buried himself into her mind like she had refused to believe.

I willed myself to remain calm but I’d never been the most controlled man.

The following Sunday, Kloe’s disturbed mind lashed out at Red. My own pent up infuriation snapped, and everything changed.



It had been a quiet morning. I’d spent a few minutes watching Terry hang from the chains in the basement. As usual he had just smirked at me, yet I wasn’t much up for talking anyway.

Autumn had set in and the leaves were starting to drop. It was Red’s favourite time of year, and mine. She loved to pounce into each high dune of dead leaves in the far corners of the park, her tail whipping from left to right as she tried to bury all of her body beneath each colourful mound. Each squirrel she chased up the high trunks of each tree tormented her from their safe heights, until she discovered their stash of dropped acorns.

I winced, chastising her when her teeth crunched on the cast iron buds. “I aint taking you to the vets when you break your teeth, girl.”

Her eyes smiled at me, and in true Red fashion, she turned and headed full pelt into the lake. The water leapt out as she leapt in. My laughter filled the quiet park and I shook my head at her when her head surfaced the top of the water.

It was these days that replenished my lost soul. Being outside, in the middle of such beauty, filled me with a sense of not just existing, but living. So many years all I’d had were walls and stale air. And as if still catching up, I drew a lungful of the fresh air inside me and sighed with pleasure.

The very things that most people took for granted were what allowed me to smile. The simplicity, and sometimes extravagance, of nature was overlooked by many. But not me.

The harsh slap of reality served me a stab to the gut when the fight date shot a bullet through my happiness. There were just over two weeks left. Kloe was far from ready to cope on her own, and apprehension hounded me. Her rehabilitation was going a lot slower than I had anticipated and I needed her to step out of the darkness she cowered inside.

Red nudged my hand, sensing my worry. Her cold wet fur snapped me out of my sour mood and I grumbled at her light-heartedly.

Her tail didn’t stop wagging all the way home; she’d enjoyed her hour of freedom. My heart hurt when I realised, no matter how hard I tried, that I couldn’t give Kloe that freedom from her own mind that she craved.

As soon as I stepped foot inside the house, the loud feral scream and smash from upstairs made my shoulders sag with weariness.

Robbie, who sat at the island in the kitchen, swung his eyes my way and blew out a frustrated breath. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to. Everyone was walking on eggshells, tired of the fractured atmosphere that was coating us all in Kloe’s depression.