"Damien," she whispered, the name like poison on her lips. "He was almost always there. He... he said he'd been planning it for months. That I was supposed to be his, but the Regents had stolen me. That he was taking back what belonged to him." Red-hot rage flooded my system, my vision blurring at the edges. That fucking psychopath had been obsessed with her, had stalked her, had orchestrated this entire nightmare because of some twisted delusion that she belonged to him. I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands, to make him suffer a thousand times what Cade had endured.
"He raped me," Cade continued, her voice dropping so low I had to lean closer to hear her. "Over and over. When I fought, he'd beat me. Said he liked it when I struggled, that it made it more fun for him. Sometimes he'd bring others, men I didn't know. They'd..." Her voice broke, a sob escaping her. "They'd pass me around. Take turns. I'd kick and scream until I couldn't anymore." Logan stepped forward, his face ashen.
"Cade, we can take a break. You don't have to-"
"I need to say it," she interrupted, her voice suddenly fierce despite the tears streaming down her face. "I need to get it out. Please."
The desperation in her plea silenced him. I understood what she meant, the need to purge the poison, to speak the horror aloud and make it real so that it could be faced. I'd felt the sameafter Lexington, after what my father and the doctors had done to me there.
"Sometimes they'd film it," Cade continued, her words coming faster now, tumbling out as if she couldn't contain them anymore. "Damien would make me look at the camera, make me say things, terrible things. He said he was going to send the videos to you all, to show you that I belonged to him now. That you'd failed to protect what was yours. That he was going to use the videos to market me, like my body was some sort of product for him to sell."
A strangled sound came from the doorway. Cole had pushed off the wall, his face contorted with a rage so pure it was terrifying to behold. Without a word, he turned and stormed out of the room; the door slamming behind him with enough force to rattle the medical equipment.
Cade flinched at the noise, her story cutting off abruptly as fresh tears welled in her eyes. "Cole," she whispered, the pain in her voice unmistakable.
"I'll find him," Logan said, already moving toward the door. "Keep going if you need to, Princess. I'll be right back." As the door closed behind Logan, Cade seemed to deflate, sinking back against the pillows. Her hand felt cold in mine, her skin clammy with fear-sweat.
"I think that's enough for now," Calder said, closing his notebook. "You've been incredibly brave, Miss Turner. This information will help us track down everyone involved." Dr Reynolds stepped forward, his expression compassionate but professional.
"Miss Turner, there are some additional examinations we'll need to perform," he said gently. "Given the nature of the repeated assaults, we need to screen for pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections." Cade's face went blank, a defensiveemptiness settling over her features that was almost more disturbing than her tears had been.
"Damien was careful about who was allowed to... to finish inside me," she said, her voice eerily detached. "He made everyone else wear protection because, in his words, 'her body belongs to me, so only I can mark her in that way.'"
"Jesus fucking Christ," I snarled, unable to contain my fury any longer. "I'm going to fucking kill him. I'm going to rip him apart piece by fucking piece." Cade flinched at my outburst, and I immediately regretted losing control.
"I'm sorry," I said, forcing my voice to soften. "I'm not angry at you, baby. Never at you." Dr Reynolds cleared his throat.
"When you're ready, we'll have a female nurse perform the assessments under the supervision of the Sexual Assault Referral Centre, as per procedure. Everything will be done with your consent and at your pace." Cade nodded numbly, her eyes fixed on some middle distance, seeing horrors I could only imagine.
Calder rose from his chair, exchanging a look with Dr Reynolds that spoke volumes.
"Thank you for your time, Miss Turner," Calder said. "I'll be in touch if we need any further information. In the meantime, know that the Trivium is dedicating all available resources to finding Damien McIntyre." They left the room quietly, leaving me alone with Cade once more.
The silence that settled between us was heavy with unspoken horrors and rage that had nowhere to go. I wanted to smash something, to scream, to hunt down every person who had touched her and make them suffer. But what Cade needed now wasn't my fury; it was my strength, my steadiness.
"I'm sorry," she whispered after a long moment, her eyes still fixed on nothing.
"What on earth are you sorry for?" I asked, genuinely bewildered.
"For being so weak," she replied, her voice small and broken. "For not fighting harder. For letting him... letting them..."
"Stop," I said firmly, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so I could meet her eyes. "Listen to me, Cadence Turner. You are not weak. You survived. You endured things that would have broken most people, and you're still here. Still fighting. Still brave enough to tell your story." A tear slipped down her cheek, and I resisted the urge to wipe it away, knowing that uninvited touch might trigger memories of hands that hadn't asked permission.
"I don't feel brave," she admitted. "I feel... broken. Like they took something from me I can never get back." My heart shattered at her words, at the raw truth in them.
"They took things from you," I agreed softly. "But not everything. Not your spirit. Not your heart. Not the core of who you are." She looked up at me then, her blue eyes swimming with tears.
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been where you are," I said, the admission slipping out before I could stop it. "Not exactly the same, but after Lexington. After what they did to me there. I thought I was broken beyond repair too." Understanding flickered across her face, a moment of connection that transcended the horror of our individual traumas.
"How did you... how did you come back from it?" I considered lying, considered offering her some platitude about time healing all wounds. But Cade deserved better than that. She deserved the truth.
"You don't come back," I said quietly. "Not completely. You build something new from the pieces that are left. You find people who help you hold those pieces together until they start to stick on their own. And some days are better than others.Some days you feel almost whole. Other days, the cracks show, and all you can do is hang on until the storm passes." She nodded slowly, absorbing my words. Then she sat there for a while.
The time seemed to stretch, and I wondered if she had checked out for the time being. Then she looked up at me with her eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Will you help me hold the pieces?" The question, so simple and yet so profound, knocked the air from my lungs. After everything we'd done to her, everything I'd done to her, she was still willing to trust me with her broken parts.
