The words were out before he could stop them. He felt Clara tense in his arms, her body shifting slightly against his, but she didn’t speak. She just held him tighter, her warmth pressed to his chest, her fingers stroking softly, patiently. Waiting.
He closed his eyes. For a long time, he’d kept it buried. His shame was shoved into the darkest corner of his mind, locked down where no one could ever see it, where it couldn’t contaminate anyone else. But the lock had rusted, the hinges breaking under the weight.
It poured out now.
“They kept me in this… hut. Four walls. Tin roof. Hot during the day, freezing at night. I remember the smell before anything else. Blood. Sweat. Fear. Pain.” His throat burned. “I kept telling myself I was too smart, that I’d find a way out. That they couldn’t break me.”
His fists clenched at the memory, knuckles whitening against Clara’s skin. “But they did.”
The air shifted. He wasn’t in the bed anymore. He was back there.
Hands. Rough. Grabbing. His wrists bound behind his back, rope biting into his skin until it bled. The sound of his own breath coming too fast, too loud in the dark.
And then him. His captor. The stink of him. Cigarettes and sweat and something rotten. His voice slick with cruelty.
“You’re clever, aren’t you? Let’s see how clever you are when I’m finished.”
Jonas’s stomach rolled. His chest constricted. “I tried to fight. God, I fought. But tied up like that… with his men holding me down…” His voice cracked, breaking on the words. “He… he raped me.”
The air thickened. His body shook. Clara’s arms wrapped tighter around him, but he couldn’t stop now. “It hurt. God, I’ve never known pain like it. Every second. My body, my pride, my mind, it all broke. And the worst part… the worst part wasn’t the pain. It was the shame. I felt dirty. Weak. Like it was my fault for not stopping it. For not being strong enough. For being too slow, too stupid, too… me.”
His chest heaved. His vision blurred. “He whispered while he did it. Told me I’d never be a man again. That if my team ever found out, they’d see what I really was, a coward, a freak. I got hard while he raped me. I… I couldn’t help it. He said I was enjoying it, that I wanted it.” His voice rasped. “And I believed him. I still do some nights.”
The memory slammed into him, every thrust, every laugh, the smell, the weight pinning him down. The burning stretch. The sound of his own voice begging, something he’d sworn he’d never do. “I wanted to die. Right there. Just stop breathing, stop existing. I thought if I closed my eyes long enough, maybe I could disappear.”
His whole body shuddered. His voice cracked into silence, then returned raw and broken. “And when Val and the others found me the following day, I was crying in her arms like afucking child. I couldn’t even stand. That’s who I am, Clara. That’s what he left me with. And no matter how many facts I recite, or codes I break, or missions I save, inside, I’m still that man on the floor. Dirty. Broken. Weak.”
Silence stretched.
The words hung in the air like blood in the water, seeping into the room. He’d never said them aloud before. Never dared. Now they were out there, and he half-expected the world to split in two. But the world didn’t end. Clara didn’t recoil. She held him tighter, her tears dampening his chest.
And for the first time in a long time, Jonas could breathe.
It wasn’t freedom. Not yet. But it was a start.
Silence pressed around them after his confession, heavy and suffocating. Jonas waited for the recoil, for her to flinch away, to see him differently, to finally understand what was left of him.
But Clara didn’t move. Her arms stayed tight around him, her breath warm against his skin. And then he felt it, wetness seeping onto his chest.
She was crying.
His gut twisted. He shifted, trying to pull back, but she clung tighter. Her voice was thick when it finally came.
“You are so brave.” Her hand cupped his face, firm and gentle. “Jonas, you are the bravest man I’ve ever known. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me with this.”
Her tears broke him further. He blinked, and the blur in his vision sharpened enough to see her, the raw honesty in her gaze, the compassion, the love. It slammed into him, terrifying and undeniable.
God help him, he loved her.
He opened his mouth, shut it again, chest heaving.
She smoothed her thumb across his jaw, steadying him. “Does your therapist know?” she asked softly.
Shame dragged his gaze away. “No. Nobody. Just you.”
Her breath hitched. More tears. “Oh, Jonas.” She leaned her forehead against his. “You carried this alone all this time.”
“I couldn’t…” His voice cracked. “Couldn’t say it. If I spoke it, it would make it real. And if the team knew, they’d feel responsible and they’d look at me differently.” He shook his head violently.
