Black Polo tries to push himself upright, groaning as he clutches his ribs—but he gets halfway up before slumping back against the wall. His head lolls sideways and smacks the drywall with a dullthunk. Out cold.
That’s two down.
Bathroom Guy’s corpse is still cooling by the doorway.
That leaves Jason—alone, bleeding, and terrified.
“Vincent was sentjust for her,” he continues, desperate to stay alive. “Said she was important. That she needed to be brought in alive, but… it didn’t matter what kind of shape she was in when she got there.”
A beat of silence.
My vision pulses with red.
This wasn’t random. It was never random.
Terrance hired a contractor to abduct Charlotte. The same man who used to control her with fists and threats now wants to control her through cages and chains.
V stands beside me, arms crossed, blood spattered across his shirt. “We taking a ride?”
I don’t look at him. I stare down at Jason like I’m carving the next move into his face.
“We’re doing more than that.”
I slide a full mag into my pistol with a sharpclick, chambering a round. “You want his buddy?”
“Nah, you can have the little shit.” He raises his gun, and fires off a round directly into his heart. His body flails for a few seconds before going still. V nudges Black Polo’s limp body with the toe of his boot. “He ain’t getting up from that.” His eyes shift to the other—Bathroom Guy—lying motionless in a pool of blood by the door. “That one’s definitely done.”
Then his eyes settle on Jason, who’s slumped against the wall, blood pouring from his nose, trembling, but still breathing.
“The last rat standing,” V mutters.
I stare down at Jason, chest heaving from panic, his face a ruin of bruises and blood. He’s shaking so badly it’s almost pitiful.
Almost.
My jaw ticks, the fury inside me far from burned out. Charlotte’s face flashes in my mind—her fear, her silence, her strength. The bruises no one saw. The pain she had to survive to get away from the monster now clawing to drag her back.
I loosen my grip on Jason’s shirt and take a step back.
He sags in relief, like he thinks I’ve had a change of heart.
“Thank you,” he gasps. “Oh my God… thank you?—”
Bang.
The shot rings out like punctuation. Sudden. Final.
Jason slumps sideways to the floor, a bullet between his eyes.
I lower the pistol, the barrel still hot in my hand.
Behind me, V lets out a low whistle. “You know,” he says, cocking his head with a smirk, “I remember when you were all wide-eyed and trying not to puke the first time you pulled a trigger. Look at you now.” He claps a bloodied hand over his heart. “I’m so proud. It’s like watching my murder toddler grow up.”
I snort. “We’re the same damn age.”
“Emotionally? I’m at least five years ahead,” he quips, then nods toward the girl still unconscious on the bed. “What do we do with her?”
I glance over. She's pale, lips slightly parted, breathing shallow but steady beneath the scratchy hotel blanket.
