Aftermath (13 page)

Sooner rather than later, Austin ended up in the room on the first floor that Cam had described to him. But he wasn’t directed to sit at the table like Cam had been. Instead he found himself attached to a chain that was fastened to a hook in the ceiling. Both feet were still firmly on the ground and his cuffed hands remained behind his back, but Austin had no room to move whatsoever.

The two-inch thick chain was like a choking snake around his body. It circled his legs, his midsection, his chest, his arms, and his damn neck. His skin got pinched between the links if he even
tried
to move, and if he so much as tilted his head, it was like breathing through a straw.

"You used to be my friend, Sam."

Austin groaned in pain, trying to focus. "My—my name is Austin," he panted. Christ, the links were really digging in everywhere, and his arms were twisted, the chain pulling too tightly. "It's Austin Huntley. Not Sam."

"Silence!" The scream was piercing. "Now—" a deep breath "—as I was saying. You used to be my friend, Sam." The man approached slowly, and there was a knife in his hand. "Then you became Mr. Baseball Star and forgot about me. You made my senior year hell." He spat in Austin's face. "You ignored me in the halls, you laughed when Kirk and the others pulled pranks on me, and you—"

"I'm not Sam, you sick bastard!"

For that, Austin earned himself a fist in the gut, and it was only the beginning. He was beaten over every inch of his body. The knife sliced through his skin in several places—deeply, but superficially enough to keep him alive.

It was torture. Literally.

Blood trickled down Austin's arms, jaw, legs, and hairline.

He screamed out, white-hot pain spreading through him in radiating waves, when his arms were twisted and yanked up farther, dislocating his left shoulder.

Next, his other shoulder was pulled out of its socket, too.

"You—you—" Austin coughed and spluttered; he'd bitten his tongue, so blood slowly filled his mouth with a coppery flavor "—goddamn c-coward!" He glared at the shorter man. "You won't fight fair; you w-won't even show your face."

Austin really needed to stop goading him.

Then again, if you thought you were about to die, you wanted some pride restored before you went, right? And Austin did believe this was it for him. His thoughts were filled with memories, the moments in his life he cherished the most. The day his daughter was born, the day he graduated from graduate school and his parents were beaming with pride, the moment Jade announced she was pregnant…

"I will kill you last, Sam. You know why? Because I want to draw it out. Betrayal is the biggest crime, in my opinion."

To Cam, it felt like forever before Austin came around. And if this was how Cam acted during an anxiety attack, he couldn’t understand how his family—Austin included—handled it. 'Cause seeing Austin so distressed and completely out of it was fucking painful.

He wondered how aware Austin was of his surroundings—if he knew they were on the patio floor. It was when Austin had nearly fallen over that Cam had guided them both down here. Now he was leaning against the back wall of the house, and he had Austin half-lying in front of him, his head on Cam's naked chest. Over and over, Cam murmured words of no significance to Austin, hoping he was listening. They weren't back in hell. They were here. Safe. Together. No one was gonna torture them.

Cam wasn’t sure if he admired Austin or if he was frustrated with him. Even in the middle of panic and anxiety, the man broke down in silence. He was crying, but he didn’t make a sound. His breaths were shallow and rapid, but there was no plea for help.

"You're safe," he whispered and kissed the top of Austin's head. Reaching down, he threaded their fingers together. "If you hear me, can you please give my hand a squeeze or something?" He needed Austin to be all right, for fuck's sake.
Now
. He had no patience.

It also infuriated him to think that Austin's wife was a goddamn bitch who wouldn’t help. Not that Cam was sure he wanted that, but technically…she should. Yeah, Cam liked the feeling of being helpful—especially with this man—and there was an odd sense of satisfaction from being the one to whom Austin turned. But he hated that Austin didn’t have any other options.

"Thank Christ," Cam mumbled when Austin gave his hand a weak squeeze. Tears continued to soak Cam's chest, but at this point, he was just relieved. Austin evidently needed this, and Cam was determined to be the strong one this time. "I'm here," he murmured, slightly uncomfortable. Not with Austin, per se, but displays of affection weren’t Cam's forte. He wanted strict directions on how to help; now he was doing this blindly, not knowing what worked.

"S-sorry," Austin croaked minutes later.

Cam rolled his eyes, as he didn’t see the big deal. There was no reason to apologize. "Shut the fuck up and cry or whatever." He winced, regretting his wording. "I meant what I said." He cleared his throat. "I'm here—for you. And, um, you don’t have to be so fucking strong all the time." Okay. He exhaled. That was a little better. He hoped. Then he remembered the shrink's words about letting it all out—it was healthy and shit. And Austin had made Cam do that, too. "You're supposed to talk about it," he said quietly. "What were you remembering?" Austin let out a shuddering breath and began to sit up, but Cam didn’t let go. "Fuck that. Stay here." He wrapped his arms around Austin's shoulders. "If not for you, then for me."

Austin just seemed relieved as he melted into Cam's arms. He was clearly not used to leaning on others—physically or metaphorically. He didn’t ask for help—goddamn masochist. Then again, was Cam any better? Hell, no.

What a fucking pair they made.

"You got shot…" Austin mumbled, which was all he needed to say for Cam to be clued in on what period of time in captivity he was stuck in. "We were so damn helpless."

Cam pressed down his own anxiety and focused on Austin. That time in the cell had been one of the worst, and Austin was right: they'd been helpless. There had been nothing to do to prevent torture and death. All because of one raging lunatic.

*

Cam hissed in pain as he finally managed to reach his cot. It had taken a solid hour for him to drag himself a few feet and then pull himself up to the cot. His shoulder was burning, a warm trickle of blood steadily oozing out of the front. Only one trickle, which meant there was no exit wound. The bullet was still lodged inside him.

His eyes stung with sweat and silent tears, and he wished he could at least get rid of the motherfucking handcuffs. But his misery aside, he was also worried about Austin. After the shit they had pulled, he had a feeling Psycho wasn’t gonna go easy on Austin.

"You okay, man?" Chase asked.

"Fuckin' peachy," Cam groaned. Everyone already knew what had happened, but a failed attempt at escaping was quickly becoming old news.

Before long, it was Austin's turn to tumble down the uneven stairs, and Cam held his breath, for unknown reasons visibly upset at the thought of his cellmate being tortured. Annoyed, Cam tried to blink back his tears, but they kept rolling down his cheeks. Fucking pussy. He hated showing weakness.

First, the hatch opened, and Psycho peered inside, spotting Cam on the cot. Then the door was pushed open, and Psycho himself dragged Austin's body inside. He dropped two keys and a larger medical kit on the floor, said, "Patch each other up. I'm not ready for either of you to quit the company yet," and then left.

*

An iron fist squeezed Cam's heart as he remembered Austin's lifeless body.

He guessed it was the fact that a single man had caused so much pain to ten strong men that made them angry these days. It wasn’t necessarily pride that got wounded; it was disbelief that made him rage. Regardless of the prison-like setting, the handcuffs, the guns, the mind games, and the torture, it was difficult to believe that one man could have so much control.

It seemed to have hit Austin the hardest. The man always needed to be useful, and for some reason he couldn’t see that without him, Cam would definitely be dead. Austin failed to realize just how much he'd helped Cam.

He let out a labored breath and nuzzled Austin's hair. "You always patched me up. Don’t forget that." Not to mention the countless times he'd helped Cam with his anxiety attacks.

"You kept me alive," Austin rasped. "I was too weak."

"You—
Christ
, Austin. You weren’t weak." Cam pushed down his temper. "Do you even remember how bruised you were?"

Cam sure as fuck did.

*

Taking off the cuffs was priority number one. Then Cam had woken Austin by splashing water in his face, and Austin had been conscious long enough to croak out where it hurt the most. And, uh, well, it had taken Cam seven tries to put Austin's shoulders back in their sockets. He felt bad, but he wasn’t a fucking doctor.

Anyway, Austin had passed out from the pain, and that brought them to now. Cam was tending to the knife wounds after having stripped Austin of clothes—one pair of shredded sweatpants and one filthy T-shirt. And when he was done with Austin's face, he had to cut up both their Tshirts, 'cause there weren't enough bandages in the medical kit for both of them.

Four wounds needed stitches, so Cam was glad Austin was still passed out on the floor. Without anesthesia or even the weakest painkiller, it was bound to hurt like a bitch. But the most important thing was to close the cuts and make sure everything was as clean as possible. The alcohol he poured probably stung like hell, too.

He made sure to save some for himself, 'cause when Austin was ready, he was gonna have to dig out the bullet in Cam's shoulder.

"What the fuck did he do to you?" Cam whispered, not expecting an answer. He gently swiped a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the four-inch long cut along Austin's temple, right at his hairline. Butterfly bandages should suffice there.

He noticed that Austin was coming around when he whimpered and a stray tear slid down his temple.

"You're gonna be okay."

"Hurts," Austin choked out, eyes closed.

"I know," Cam murmured thickly. "Can you tell me if anything is broken?"

"I…um. I d-don’t know…"

Cam nodded to himself and resumed his work. With Austin wearing only his black boxer briefs, Cam could see every bit of damage, and Jesus fucking Christ, there was a lot. For the wounds along the man's thighs and calves, he pressed sterile pads directly onto the cuts, and then he tore cotton strips off of the Tshirts to create bandages to tie around Austin's legs.

While Cam tended to Austin's arms, Psycho returned, but before panic could settle in, the men found out he was only down there to "fetch the dead guy." Pete. A rotting corpse. Pete, an innocent man. Whom Psycho had called Dad. Fucking lunatic.

"I need you to wake the fuck up now, Austin," Cam stated. He didn’t understand it, but seeing Austin this way was just wrong. This was the man who'd helped him when Cam was nothing but an asshole. Yeah, so he needed to wake up and be good again. "There's nothing more I can do." He surveyed Austin's body. "I cleaned up the blood, I stitched you up, I-I don’t think, um…I mean, I don’t think there's a big risk of infection. How're your fucking shoulders?"

Austin let out a quiet, pained moan, but that was about it.

"Well, at least you're breathing," Cam muttered, then winced when he accidently moved his bad shoulder. "Goddamn, I could use a drink."

*

Eyes stinging with unshed tears, Cam tightened his hold on Austin. He shuddered. His hands slid over Austin's exposed skin, encountering too many scars. Some were fading. Some were too deep to ever go away.

In the pocket of his shorts, his phone vibrated, but he ignored it. Before Austin had woken up this morning, someone had been calling Cam's phone multiple times from an unknown number, and he didn’t respond to that shit.

"Are you with me, Austin?" Cam murmured. He hoped he wouldn’t get freaked out whenever Austin grew quiet now.

"Yeah…"

Cam let out a soft breath. "Come on. Let's go inside instead." The sun was at its highest. Even Bourbon had retreated to the shadows on the other side of the pool where he was gnawing on a bone. The high, wooden fence that surrounded the backyard provided seclusion, but unless you were in that pool, it was like a broiling pan in the middle of the day. "We'll talk and rest for a bit, and then we're ordering that pizza." He was gonna make sure Austin pulled through this.

To do that, he swallowed his aversion to his medicine and took a damn pill that made it easier to prevent anxiety attacks.

*

Austin wasn’t tired; he was utterly drained. It felt like he'd been crying for days and not a couple hours. His voice was hoarse and shook when he spoke. His eyes felt heavy. But Cam kept pushing. Gently. Persistently. He made sure Austin talked about what he was remembering.

"No—open your eyes." Cam kissed him between his eyebrows. "If anything, I need to hear what came next, 'cause I don’t fucking remember."

"You were pretty out of it," Austin mumbled sleepily and pulled the blanket up higher. Before, when they'd made it to bed, Cam had switched on the ceiling fan as well as a table fan that stood on the low wall behind Cam's back. So, the living room was now comfortably cool even though the sun was scorching right outside.

"Keep talking," Cam said, just a hint of irritation in his voice.

Austin's eyes remained closed, but he managed a smile. Cam wouldn’t be Cam if he didn’t get annoyed.

"Nothing much to tell," Austin lied as the memories flooded back.

*

"Bite down on this." Austin placed a few strips of fabric that he'd twisted together between Cam's teeth. They were both on the floor, Cam's head in Austin's lap, and it was time to take out that damn bullet. Well, Cam insisted it was. Austin was torn.