Chapter 70

I stop and stare at him, this freak with the

nasty curls who has the audacity to judge me. Suddenly his touch

burns my skin. Where did they learn this language of hate? “You

didn’t just—”

“Shut up, Tobin.” Henry tugs me

forward roughly and I almost fall to my knees.

I try again. “Where’s Dylan?”

Henry closes his hands around my arm,

tightens them, until I can feel each pulse that carries blood from

my shoulder to my wrist, each beat of my heart caught in his

viselike grip, and my fingers tingle, he’s cutting off my

circulation, he’s holding on so damn tight. “Please,” I sob, and am

I crying? I don’t know. I don’t care. My eyes sting and my hands

are going numb and how can I fight back if I can’t even clench them

into fists? I’m cold, too cold, and my legs stumble out from

beneath me, tears burn my face. I barely see the opened door they

pull me through, I hardly notice the cells that line this new

corridor, each one empty. “Dylan,” and the name is a bitter shout,