Page 68 of Beneath His Robes

I jerked back instinctively, a reflex more than anything.

“Get your hands off me,” I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady, but my words were shaky, the fear rising in my throat like bile.

The guy didn’t seem to care. He stepped closer, crowding my space and forcing me to take a step back.

“What’s the matter? You used to this, huh? All that attention on you, all those eyes on you in the club. Do you really think we can’t see through you? You’re nothing but a fuckin’ toy for everyone to play with.”

The others around him laughed, egging him on. One of them whistled, and another made a crude gesture with his hands.

I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, and I could feel the heat of panic rising. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to give them any more of a reason to hurt me. But it was getting harder to hold back, harder to swallow the shame that they were pouring over me like cold water.

“Leave him alone,” a voice suddenly cut through the laughter.

I turned toward the voice, blinking in surprise. A few tables down, I saw Marco, one of the guys I’d talked to a few times. He was staring at the group now, his face hard.

“Yeah?” the tattooed guy said, not backing down, his eyes flicking from Marco to me. “You got a problem with it?”

Marco didn’t flinch. “I said, leave him the hell alone.”

For a moment, it looked like it might escalate, the tension thick in the air, but then the guy just laughed, throwing his hands up. “Whatever, man. It’s all good. Play with ya toy.” he said, stepping back and looking me over once more with that predatory grin.

I breathed out, but the relief didn’t last. They were still watching me, still sneering. Marco stood there for a few more seconds, ensuring the other guy backed off before he turned to me.

“You all right?” Marco said, his voice low.

I nodded, though it didn’t really feel true. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything else. He just gave me a small nod before heading back to his seat. I stood there for a moment longer, feeling the eyes on me, my hands still trembling, before I walked to my table as quickly as I could, my heart still racing in my chest.

I didn’t sit down. I couldn’t, not with their eyes still on me. I moved to the counter, grabbed a tray, and walked back to my seat. I could feel their gazes following me every step of the way, and it made my skin crawl, but I tried to ignore it.

Sitting down at the table, I picked at my food, not really tasting it. My mind was somewhere else far away, where the laughter didn’t echo in my head, or the teasing didn’t cut through me like a knife.

But no matter how far away I tried to go, it was always there. The humiliation. The shame. The way they saw me. The way I felt, like I was nothing more than a thing, an object, to be used and discarded.

And even though Marco had stepped in, I knew it wouldn’t stop. The whispers wouldn’t stop. The mocking wouldn’t stop. Not in this place.

Not ever.

Marco held a hierarchy. It was evident in the way people shied away from his gaze. He was a massive dude, covered head to toe in tattoos and holes where piercings were once. He walked over and sat down at my table, not saying anything to me, just scooping the mystery surprise into his mouth in silence.

I didn’t say anything, either. I was happy that the jeers had stopped, and felt peace for even a moment because of his presence. It was the first time since being here that I felt like there wasn’t a gauntlet over my head.

It was wishful thinking…but had I made a friend?

The hallway was dim when I left the cafeteria, the lights flickering as I returned to my cell. The sound of my boots echoed in the silence. It was late, and most of the inmates were either in their cells or the rec area by now.

I had actually stayed long enough to sustain myself as best I could on the damn sludge. I hadn’t eaten well in weeks and was starting to lose muscle mass. I didn’t need to feel weak in this hell. The guards were sparse, just a few in the distance chatting to one another or occupied on their own devices.

I was halfway to the corner when I felt the shift in the air.

Dammit…I thought I could make it through the night without incident.

I should’ve known better.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I turned just in time to see them—three of them, stepping out of a side hallway, blocking my path back to the cells.

I didn’t recognize them immediately in the dim lighting, but their eyes were familiar. Cold. Hungry. Dead.

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