CHAPTER 8

ALEX'S POV My boots pounded dully on the cold floor as I advanced, my fists curled. Ryan had tried to escape. He had nearly made it. But my guards were faster. Stronger. And there he sat—leaning against the cold iron bars of his cell, his huge hulking body reducing to something battered, something pathetic. That arrogance which had blazed in his eyes was now gone, and in its place was something frayed at the edges, something unhinged. I was standing just outside the cell, gazing down at him, my lip curling into contempt. "Pathetic," I said. Ryan let out a weak, creaking laugh. His lips were fissured, his dried blood cracking around the edges as he smiled up at me. One of his eyes was closed from the swelling, the other barely able to focus. "You got me," he rasped, his voice destroyed by either pain, screaming, or both. I tilted my head, the tension in my jaw coiling tighter. "You should have stayed in your cage." Ryan spat blood onto the flagstones, his head shaking. His sho