Baylees POV
I stand outside the reinforced door of the padded cell, my arms crossed tight over my chest, trying to block out the electric buzz crawling over my skin.
But it’s no use.
His thoughts pour through the barrier like acid through silk—raw, violent, unfiltered. I don’t even have to reach for them. They slice into me.
Boy:
When they give us a pencil, we could stab it straight into someone’s eye. Wonder if it would pop like a grape.
Wolf:
Or better—we wait. Let them trust us. Then we use everything they give us to make them bleed. Slowly. One by one.
Boy:
Do you think if I poked deep enough, I’d see their thoughts spill out?
Wolf:
Let’s find out. The ears first. Then the throat. Let’s make music from their screams.
I clench my jaw, the bile rising, and Caden’s hand finds
