Page 205 of Hymns of the Broken

Riot laughs. “Relax, man. We’ll put the desk back whenwe’re donewith it… probably.”

Ash and Jace are already heading to the kitchen, still cackling. Silas watches us go, muttering something about how he’s too old for this shit.

Me and Riot? We’re already plotting.

If Silas only knew.

Chapter 33

SAWYER

I leave Macee’s room with my head a little lighter. My heart pounding—not just from relief but this weird, giddy excitement curling in my chest. Macee’s grin as I walked out? Pure mischief, pure jealousy. She’s dying for the gossip, and honestly, I don’t blame her. Who wouldn’t be jealous? Not everyone gets to play out their own dark, messy fairytale with two men who’d burn the world for them.

I head down the hall to the room I was staying in before and I’m surprised to see some of my stuff piled neatly on the bed. My phone is right on top. It’s like a relic from another life. I haven’t looked at it since everything happened.

I sink onto the mattress, picking it up with trembling fingers, and the screen lights up—so many missed calls, so many texts. Notifications are blowing up.“Where’s Sawyer? Are you okay? Please text us.”My Instagram DMsare flooded, and the #WhereIsSawyer tag is trending. My heart aches and flutters at the same time—so many people, some I barely know, desperate for news.

I see my sister’s name pop up at the top of my texts—her messages frantic at first, then turning almost poetic in her worry. It looks like Macee has been playing my stand-in, messaging everyone back, posting reassuring updates on my social media, and pretending to be me so I could breathe. Posts are saying I’m “taking time off” — a couple of carefully filtered pics of the view outside Jasper’s place—proof of life for everyone watching.

I scrollfor a minute, letting it all sink in. My chest tightens at the thought of everyone worrying, but mostly, I’m just so damn grateful for Macee. She really thinks of everything.

My fingers hover over the screen as I consider replying to all of them, reassuring everyone that I’m okay. But then I think of what’s waiting for me downstairs—what I want, what I deserve. My story isn’t something I owe to anyone, not right now.

I set my phone aside, and walk over to the dresser. I pull out one of Riot’s shirts from the pile, and hold it close, breathing him in. A slow smile tugs at my lips.

I get dressed in front of the mirror, heart thumping like I’m about to step on stage instead of into a basement. I don’t think too hard about the details—just enough coverage, but nothing that hides the bruises, the marks, the story written across my skin. Tonight isn’t about pretty or perfect. It’s about a reckoning.

JASPER

She meets us at the top of the stairs, Riot’s shirt swallowing her frame, eyes dark with something sharp and wild. There’s something different about her tonight—a kind of purpose in every step. I catch her gaze and hold it, searching for any sign of fear, but all I see is fire.

“You ready?” Riot asks, a little edge in his voice.

Sawyer smiles—the kind that makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and lock everyone out. “Yeah. I’m ready to show this motherfucker he doesn’t choose a damn thing for me.”

God, I fucking love her.

We make our way down to the basement, the air growing cooler and heavier with every step. She notices the desk first, and I see her cheeks flush. I wonder what she’s picturing. I know exactly what I’m picturing.

Blake’spassed out in the center of the room, wrists still cuffed to the chair, head lolling. Riot strides right up to him and smacks him hard across the face, knuckles cracking loudly in the echoing dark.

Blake jerks awake, head snapping sideways, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Ooo, what a wake-up call. But you’ve got some questions to answer, Blake.” Riot teases.

I lean back against the toolbox, arms crossed, eyes on Sawyer as she circles him. She’s got questions, and this time, she’s not trembling. She’s not asking for permission.

Every time Blake dodges, refuses, or spits some bullshit excuse, I see her get angrier. Her jaw tightens, voice gets sharper, and her hands ball into fists. It’s not fear she feels now. It’s pure fury.

She stalks towards him until there’s barely a foot of air between them—nothing but chains and the weight of everythinghe’s done.

“Why?” she demands, voice trembling with rage but never fear. “Why did you think you could take me? After Ileft you? After I made it clear you don’t own me?”

Blake laughs as he meets her eyes, an ugly sneer twisting his face. “Because I do own you. No one else is ever gonna want you, not after me. You’re ruined. Everyone has always used you, Sawyer, just like they are. You’re nothing but pussy to them. You were always gonna crawl back, I just made the choice for you sooner.”

Her jaw clenches. For a heartbeat, she shakes—like the words hit a nerve. But then, her expression goes cold as she draws herself up taller, a force of nature.

“Well,” she says, calm and lethal, “let me show you the choices I plan on making for the rest of my life.”

She doesn’t blink as she holds his gaze, and then, she slowly slides her hands down to the waistband of her shorts. Pops the button, drags the zipper open, and lets them drop to the floor in a whisper of denim around her black Vans.