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Then Hydessa responds, voice low and careful. “Hey, sis.”

I don’t look at Rule. I don’t give him anything. I just keep my gaze fixed on the far wall, I focus on Hydessa, as though that’s safer than acknowledging the six-foot fucking asshole standing beside me.

“How’s the investigation going?” I ask, forcing cheer into my tone. I sound upbeat. Relaxed. Like I’m not currently sending out a silent scream.

“We got the bad guys,” she says gently. “We always get them, remember?”

I force a hum of agreement, even though it cuts like a blade. I shift my weight on the bed, one leg folded under me, the phone pressed just a little closer to my ear, like proximity might make this less unbearable.

“I’m glad,” I whisper. My fingers tighten around the phone. “I have to go, sis.”

I hear her inhale. Sharp. My chest aches.

“I love you, Seanna,” she says quickly, voice cracking right through the center of me.

“Love you too,” I whisper back—and I end the call before I can fall apart.

***

Rule

She hands me back the phone with that fake-ass smile she’s perfected so well—lips curled like everything’s fine, like I didn’t just witness the subtle tremble in her fingers or the stiffness in her shoulders.

But I see through it.

She can’t lie to me, not really. I’ve watched her too long, studied every twitch in her jaw, every micro-expression she thinks she hides behind those sharp eyes. That smile doesn’t fool me, not for a fucking second.

I hum low in my throat and slide the phone back into the pocket of my utility pants, letting the silence stretch just long enough to needle her nerves.

Then I move.

She growls the second I grab her arm and I don’t bother explaining as I secure it back into the shackle bolted to the bed frame. She snarls and tries to claw at my face, her nails aiming for the gap beneath my mask. It’s a fast swipe, well-placed. But I’m faster, snatching the hand midair and securing it to the bed frame too. The cuffs snap shut with a familiar metallic bite. It’s not tight enough to cut off circulation. Just tight enough to remind her she’s not calling the shots.

I don’t flinch. Just stand at the edge of her fury and let it burn.

“I’m not stupid,” I say simply. Cool. Detached. Unbothered.

Her glare could burn holes in walls.

“Don’t worry, Seanna,” I murmur. “You’ll be punished for that.”

She screams. Loud. Raw. Frustration and fury all twisted together into something sharp enough to flay.

I don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

I turn, stepping through the door. Shutting it behind me with a soft click.

Her voice keeps going. Screams trailing after me down the dim hallway like smoke from a fire I’m pretending not to smell. But I don’t stop. I don’t slow. I know she’ll burn herself out eventually.

She always does.

My boots echo down the narrow corridor, steady despite the chaos behind me. I pass the stairs, duck into the main room—dark wood, colder air, reinforced everything—and finally breathe.

Then I reach up and peel the mask from my face.

The air hits cooler now. It always does after wearing it too long.

I pull my burner phone from my pocket and pull up the contact I need. It’s practically the only name this phone knows.