Page 157 of The Menagerie

Red.

He’s calling to him.

He’ssafewording, but no sound is coming from his mouth except muffled whimpers.

Smack! Smack!

Each spank is like a gunshot, sharp and punctuated.

But then, finally audible—

“R-red.Red!”

And Steven doesn’t stop. Definitely hears the word from right next to Mal if Rowan could hear it across the room. Another hard spank echoes in the room, this one a shotgun blast that makes Rowan’s blood run cold.

“Hey,” Rowan hears himself say. Too quiet at first, then as Mal calls out again, louder, firmer,angrier, “Hey!”

Steven’s only response is a gritted, “Shut thefuckup, he’smine,” as he raises his hand again.

In an instant, Rowan’s across the room, and before he knows what’s happening, his fist is flying. All at once, he hears the satisfyingcrack! of the man’s nose and thethump! as his knees give out and he crumples to the floor.

Steven makes a garbled noise of pain from below, but Rowan’s entire focus is on Mal. He kneels down in front of him, locking eyes with him as he quickly unties the knot from the gag and flings it to the floor.

“Okay?” Rowan asks, frantic, cradling Mal’s head between his hands.

Mal nods jerkily, a tear spilling over and rolling down his cheek before disappearing under Rowan’s thumb. He swipes it away, rubbing Mal’s cheek softly.

Rowan frantically unclasps Mal’s wrists as he leans toward Steven and growls, “I’m no bitch, asshole. And Mal doesn’tbelongto anyone.”

Steven only groans in response, hands clasped over his nose as blood gushes around his fingers.

With Mal fully released, Rowan scoops up his clothes from the floor in one hand and takes Mal’s arm with the other, guiding him out of the room and down the hall.

He opens the door to one of the recovery rooms, Mal silent at his side but swaying gently. Rowan’s never been in this room before. They’ve never needed it, thankfully. He guides Mal to the queen-size bed he sees off to the side—anactualbed with clean white sheets and a puffy duvet—and gets him settled on it, clothes placed by the headboard.

He doesn’t want to leave Mal alone in this state, but he also doesn’t want Steven to fuck off and disappear before he faces any consequences for his actions.

“You okay for a minute?”

Mal nods, mumbles a “Yeah,” and Rowan’s out the door.

Rowan’s eyes are wild as he races down the three flights of stairs to Clover’s office. Pounds his fist on the door twice and flings it open without even waiting for an answer.

Clover’s typing something on her computer, but she snaps her head up at Rowan’s impromptu entry.

“Just punched some fucking asshole in the Green Room. Steven? He ignored Mal’s safeword.”

“Holyshit,” Clover says, standing abruptly. “Do I need to call an ambulance or the police? For him or for Mal?”

“I don’t think so. I’m going to check on Mal again. The guy’s nose is definitely broken, but he’ll live as long as he doesn’t cross my path again.”

She rushes out of her office, walkie-talkie in hand. “Enrico, fourth floor, Green Room, code yellow.”

The crackle of the walkie fizzles out as Clover leads Rowan back up the stairs to the fourth floor, taking the steps two at a time before heading straight to the Green Room, the security guard she’d paged reaching the room right before her.

Rowan doesn’t go in with her, leaving her to deal with the asshole herself. Instead he rushes back to the recovery room to check on Mal. When he spots him, he’s kneeling on the bed, motionless save for the slow side-to-side movements of his head and the steady rise and fall of his bare chest.

“Hey,” Rowan says quietly, closing and locking the door.

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