Page 69 of Whispers of the Dead

Benji lets out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah. Her. She had the same voice as the one we heard shouting out your name a few days ago.”

I don’t realize I’m shaking until he squeezes my shoulder.

His tone turns guilty. “I’m the one who alerted Nathan. He was the one who brought in the medical supplies, including the insulin, so I figured…maybe he could help them out.” His voice dips with something haunted. “By the time he got to them, though, they’d already taken more than they were supposed to. Because, you see, this place had rules when helping outsiders. At least, what this place was a few months ago was a place that helped those who needed it.”

The pieces snap into place.

Emily. She and her guys, they were desperate. They took what they needed, more than they were told to. She brought my bag back, but she never told me the entire story.

And Nathan, being the psychotic bastard that he was, wasn’t about to let that slide. Not when it came to his own stolen products.

Benji continues. “When he came back in, he was furious. He weaved a story about how they’d gotten away with everything. He wanted everyone to go with him to ‘handle it.’ Wanted to teach them a lesson, he’d said.”

I swallow hard, but my throat is dry as sandpaper.

“He wanted them to pay.”

I stare into the darkness beyond the bars. “You didn’t…” I start, but my voice feels too small.

Benji shakes his head, or at least I think he does. “We didn’t go. The three of us stayed back because we thought it was ridiculous. They had plenty of supplies here. They could afford to spare a few things. Especially for someone who really needed it.” He lets out a sharp breath. “When Nathan refused to take our no for an answer, it was bad. He squared me up. Told me to fight. Told me to prove my loyalty.”

It becomes hard to breathe, but I still hang onto every word. “And?”

“Well, I told him it wasn’t worth my time. So he challenged Cole, but then Damon stepped up and said we’re not going. Damon told him we were leaving.”

“Bet he didn’t like that.”

Benji’s laugh is low and painful. “No, he didn’t. He turned a dagger on me, which is how I wound up with this little scar on the back of my hand. He thought I wanted to fight, but I told him I didn’t care what he did to other people. All I wanted was to stay out of it.”

There’s another pause while I process that.

“He had us locked up. Told Eugene to keep us here until he gets back. We’ve been here ever since.”

“Well, then he was never going to let you out otherwise, because Nathan is dead. He’s not coming back.”

I still say nothing.

He reaches through the bars and tilts my chin so I’m facing him. “What is it? What’s that look in your eye?”

“Did you know all along?”

He hesitates. “I did, ever since you told me about what Nathan did to you and how you got that scar.”

My hand ghosts over the scar on my side, hidden beneath my clothing. The scar I got because he flat out told Nathan he didn’t care what he did to us. I back away from the bars. “When were you going to tell me?”

“That’s the thing. I couldn’t decide whether or not to tell you.”

My heart breaks at the feeling of betrayal. The guy I gave up my freedom so he could live couldn’t be bothered to tell me the most important detail that links us together.

I collapse onto my bed and stare up at the cracked ceiling around the skylight.

27

BENJI

Zoey hasn’t spoken a word since I told her.

She hasn’t even looked at me. She still sits on the floor, her back turned to me, shoulders locked tight, and her head bowed like she’s turned to stone. Every inch of her screams closed off. I don’t know if she’s angry, hurt, or something else entirely, but her silence cuts deeper than anything she could ever say. The worst part? I don’t blame her.

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