“I could do all the things I really want to with you, and hide your body in a place no one will ever find it.” He brushes my hair from my face reverently and bile rises in my throat. “Or maybe I’ll just leave you here and find a way to frame Jacky Boy for all the depraved shit I’m about to do to you. This is his basement, after all.” The smile on his face tells me exactly how he feels about thisdepravity.
The door at the top of the stairs creaks and he jerks upright but doesn’t make it a full step away from me before a shot rings out.
The bullet hits him square in the back and he crumples to the floor in front of me, completely limp as blood pours from the gunshot wound and pools around his lifeless body.
Footsteps pound down the stairs and Ezra comes into view for a split second before I lose consciousness again.
31
CARVED HIM UP LIKE A FUCKING JACK-O-LANTERN
QUINN
My body is wrackedwith spasms and my mind is spinning in a foggy haze as I struggle to find rest. Every muscle aches and twitches, fighting against whatever foreign substance is coursing through my veins. In the moments when my consciousness flickers back, I hear Jack's voice nearby, his words soothing and reassuring.
His hand is a constant weight on mine, grounding me in the present and reminding me that I am safe now. I try to respond to his whispered words of comfort, but my body is unresponsive and heavy with exhaustion. His touch is the tether that keeps me from drifting too far away.
Later,when my mind finally clears enough for me to wake and speak, two police officers come into the room to take my statement. Jack’s by my side, and their questions blur together, but I answer them as best as I can, even though my body still feels like it's been pulled through hell.
As they’re wrapping things up, I glance at my arm, still bandaged where Stu cut the chip out of me. My stomach twists with unease, and I clear my throat. "Do you know what the chip was? The one he took out of my arm?"
The cops exchange a quick glance, one that makes my pulse quicken. A tall, burly officer with a furrowed brow tilts his head slightly. "Chip? Ma'am, we don’t have any information about a chip."
My chest tightens. I’m suddenly more alert than I’ve been since I got here. "Stu… he said he cut it out. That it was storing information, something my dad put there."
The officer who had spoken before shifts uncomfortably, glancing at his partner—a woman with short-cropped hair who’s watching me a little too closely, her expression unreadable. "We weren’t told anything about that," she says, her voice cool and steady. "If something like that exists, it’s not in our report."
The way she says it sets off alarm bells. The tension between them, the quick glances—they're hiding something.
I push myself to sit up slightly, my body protesting with every movement. Jack notices and places a steadying hand on my shoulder, but I can’t stop. "You didn’t find anything? No sign of the chip at all?" I press, my voice trembling slightly. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
The officer shakes her head again, almost too quickly. "No, ma’am. All we’ve got is evidence from the crime scene, and nothing like that came up.” She is adamant.
I narrow my eyes, studying her. There’s something off about their lack of concern and their overly neutral expressions—it feels rehearsed. I catch the slight shift in the male officer’s posture like he might try to keep this conversation from going any further.
Jack squeezes my hand, but his touch doesn’t ground me this time. Instead, I’m overwhelmed with disappointment. I know Ishould care more about uncovering whatever The Assembly is hiding, but right now, I just want to be free of it all. I take a deep breath, shaking my head slightly. “I must be imagining things,” I say, forcing a weak smile. “Maybe the drugs are messing with my head.”
The officers exchange a glance, their expressions shifting to one of relief. “It happens,” the female officer says, her tone almost soothing. “You’ve been through a lot.”
I nod, letting the moment pass without pressing further. “Right, of course,” I murmur, allowing the suspicion in my voice to fade. I don't want them to see me as anything but a confused patient—or at least, that’s how I want them to think I see myself right now.
I don’t believe them. Not for a second.
But I have to consider Sienna. I can’t go running around playing detective, putting myself in danger, and in turn, my sweet baby and her dad.
As they leave, I watch them go, my suspicion hardening into certainty. The Assembly has its claws in this town, and the cops? They’re part of it. But I can’t bring myself to dig deeper into it. I’m just relieved to be away from all of that chaos now, which may make me a terrible person but I am not in any place to take them on.
Jack leans in, brushing a reassuring kiss against my forehead.
But as I close my eyes, unease swirls in my gut. I don’t trust the police. Still, a part of me is thankful to be removed from the situation. I hope to go on with my life without thinking about any of this again.
Jack
My feet carry me back and forth across the sterile hospital room, my gaze never straying from Quinn's pale form. She looks so fragile lying there, an IV drip attached to her arm and tubes snaking out from beneath her thin hospital gown. Her breathing is shallow but steady, and I can't bear the sight of her in this state.
The rage simmering just beneath my worry threatens to consume me. Suddenly, the door opens and a doctor enters the room, her face etched with a somber expression. My eyes lock with hers as I turn to face her, desperate for any news about what the hell Stu dosed her with. I am thankful she’s been awake enough to talk and eat, but it hasn’t lessened my worry. She’s still sleeping a lot. Too much.
I am still reeling in shock at the thought of someone intentionally hurting her like this, especially one of my best friends—least of all, Stu.
