Ben just finished eating a sandwich when he turned on the TV. He wasn’t sure what made him do it. He sat in silence most of the time, but tonight he clicked the power button on the big screen attached to his wall.

“The current administration isn’t doing anything to deal with violence at home. They’d rather coddle the people killing on our streets. My own son was kidnapped and brutalized by a street thug.” Anger spiked inside Ben at the sound of his father’s voice. His father using Ben for whatever his current political agenda was.

“Tell us about that, Congressman Worthington. And what would be your solution?” A woman in a suit asked Ben’s father.

“Stricter laws, I can tell you that. Stop trying to take the guns away from law abiding citizens, so we don’t have a way to defend ourselves. If my son didn’t know how to defend himself, what would have happened? He was a hero. I’ve never been more proud of my son than I was that day but not everyone will be so lucky. These people, the thugs on the street, they’re weak. They can’t function like the rest of us so they resort to violence.” The camera veered toward a clapping audience. His mother stood, smile plastered on her face as she beat her hands together for the man she had been crying about two weeks before. The man who had never really been proud of Ben unless it was for how he made his father look.

“Your family has been touched by tragedy twice—with your son and also with your daughter. You became active in your support for the mentally ill after—”

Ben hit the power button. He struggled to breathe as he heard his father’s words repeat in his head.

He had used Bonnie and now he was using Ben. The bastard didn’t give a shit about any of them, about any of the things he claimed to fight for. He cared about power. Money. Image.

“Nothing we could have done would have saved her. She had to want it, Benjamin. She wasn’t strong enough...”

Been shook his head, fighting to make the memories fall from his mind.

“Look at it, Benny. Isn’t it pretty? The red. Blood is such a pretty red, against skin.” Bonnie smiled at him and Ben jerked his eyes open. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them.

That had been the first time he’d actually seen her cut herself. He’d been young, too fucking young but not stupid, he should have done something then—told someone. She was his sister and he hadn’t done a God damned thing.

Ben shoved to his feet. He didn’t bother to lock the door behind himself as he flew out of his apartment. He didn’t know where he was going but it didn’t fucking matter. He just needed out. Away.

His head spun as soon as he stepped onto the busy street—cars and people and noise. It didn’t drown out what was in his head, just added to it.

His father was a man people praised, people believed in, yet all he did was use people to get what he wanted under the guise of helping. He’d never done a damn thing to help Ben. He hadn’t helped Bonnie.

“Isn’t it pretty, Benny? Don’t tell. Promise me you won’t tell.”

He hadn’t told for too long. When he did, he told no one other than his parents.

Ben felt like he would burst out of his own skin. Like it would be a reprieve. He wanted out. Maybe Bonnie had gotten it right.

It wasn’t until he stood at the door that he realized where he’d gone. No, if Ben was honest, he would admit that he’d probably known the second he stepped out of his apartment where he would head.

He used a fist to bang on the door. Didn’t wait but a second before he beat on it again. His knuckles stung but nothing like the way his head felt. He was losing it. Really fucking losing it and he couldn’t seem to do anything to stop it.

Dante opened the door in nothing but a pair of sweats. His eyes briefly took in the tattoo on Dante’s arm—a heart with a stake through it, surrounded by thorns. Ben didn’t give him a chance to speak before he stepped forward and said, “I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t something he’d ever asked of anyone. Wasn’t something he’d ever wanted from anyone other than Tristan. But right now, he needed it and Dante was the only one who could give it to him.

“I told you sex was off the table.” Dante tried to close the door but Ben grabbed it.

“Change your mind.”

He could see the flip in Dante. See his already dark eyes storm over. The muscles in his neck tightened. “That’s not how this game is played. You don’t get to call the shots. You know that, Ben. You want it that way. You want me to be the one to tell you what I’ll do to you. We both know you want to be here but from that point, you want me to take the rest of the choices from you. You’re insulting us both by pretending otherwise.”