Page 59 of Beneath His Robes

I was stuck in the past when he was mine.

When will I realize that the past is gone? He doesn’t belong to me. He never did.

If smashing my stepfather’s face in with a chair wasn’t evident enough to get that through my head, maybe being behind bars would.

Elias wasn’t the only one caged.

ChapterNineteen

Elias

I stood outside the cold visiting room, my heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted to escape. The walls of the jail felt like they were closing in on me, and the flickering fluorescent lights above did nothing to ease the knot in my stomach.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Ronan since watching him being hauled away for his stupid mouth—his face twisted in rage, fists flying at Jack, insulting the police officers and denying me when I tried to get him free.

The guards were sharp and efficient as they led me into the room, a glass divider separating me from the man I had to see. My pulse quickened when I saw him sitting there. Ronan was slouched in the metal chair, his eyes downcast, the familiar defiance gone. The last time I saw him, he was burning with anger, a fire I couldn’t quench.

But now?

Now, he just looked…empty.

The sound of my footsteps seemed too loud as I approached, my throat tightening when I finally met his gaze. His expression was unreadable, tired, lost, maybe even regretful, but there was a flicker of something beneath it. I didn’t know what that something was, but I could tell he wasn’t in the same place as the last time I saw him.

He didn’t speak, didn’t even offer a greeting. He just looked at me like I was some kind of stranger who had no business being there. Maybe he was right, and I should turn away.

But I couldn’t.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, he was a pain I couldn’t escape. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his posture was stiff like he was holding everything inside, trying to keep the world from seeing what it was doing to him. I knew he didn’t belong here. He wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t like Jack.

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Ronan…” I couldn’t even get his name past the lump in my throat. It felt wrong—like my words didn’t belong here, not in this place. Not with him like this.

His eyes flicked to mine, cold but still there.

“What are you doing here?” his voice was flat, detached like he was speaking to someone who didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.

“I’m here because I—” I stopped, the words not coming out as I had wanted them to.

This was the part where I was supposed to comfort him and say something that would make all of this make sense.

But it didn’t.

Nothing made sense.

Jack was free. His thousands of corrupt buddies let him walk out the doors before he was even behind bars.

I couldn’t tell Ronan.

I had to, but I couldn’t at the same time. He was being blamed for the whole thing. Jack had spun a web of lies and deceit to control this narrative, depicting Ronan as an angered son who had a streak of violence toward his mother, who refused to stay sober.

“I need to?—”

“Need to, what? Why are you here? Don’t tell me you care.” Ronan’s voice was sharp as he cut me off, laced with bitterness, and it cut through the silence like a knife, embedding deep into my heart.

“You don’t have to pretend like you give a shit, Elias. I don’t regret beating the shit out of him. I am glad he’s rotting in here with me. And you should be happy. Now, you can rid yourself of me for good.”

I flinched at his words.

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