Page 89

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

THE ROOM REEKED of rot and old rage, mildew clinging to the cinderblock walls, rust bleeding from the ceiling pipes, and beneath it all, the sour stink of metal and sweat and something more feral. Like pain had soaked into the concrete and never left.

Zeynep sat slumped across from me, her back pressed to the wall, wrists raw and bleeding where the zip ties bit into her skin. Her lips were cracked, her breathing shallow, but her eyes… they never left me. Not once. Those dark eyes stayed locked on mine, a lifeline in a place built to break men. She watched me like I was still hers. Like if she didn’t, the whole world would tilt sideways again.

Then the lock clicked.

Her gaze snapped to the door. So did mine.

Two sets of footsteps approached. One light. One heavy. Each step closer wound something tighter in my chest until it felt like wire cutting into bone.

I pushed up as much as the chains would let me, every muscle taut, my hands clenched behind me, breath held like it might keep her safe.

The door creaked open.

And there she was.

Chelsea.

Smiling like this was some kind of domestic scene we’d walked away from too long. Like we were back in the kitchen of that goddamn house she poisoned, fixing her burned pancakes and pretending we weren’t both rotting inside. Her eyes sparkled, bright with the kind of madness you can’t medicate.

But it was the man behind her that made Zeynep go still.

He was tall—lean, wiry, mean-eyed. The helmet was gone now, the mask too. Just a face—young, twisted in grief and hate, eyes pinned straight on her like he’d been waiting a long time to be seen.

Zeynep’s whole body tensed. Her mouth parted like she meant to speak, then stopped. And in that second, I thought she might’ve been staring down a ghost.

“I know him,” she whispered, voice paper thin. “He was one of Drago’s men. A prospect… Jason. He—he used to guard me. Him and Rory.”

At the name, Jason’s face shifted. Tightened.

“Rory was my best friend,” he bit out, every syllable laced with venom. “And Drago executed him when you ran off with that other bitch.”

Zeynep flinched like the words had cracked across her cheek.

Chelsea tilted her head and watched with a wicked little smile, her voice soft and delighted. “Isn’t it perfect? I lose my husband to her. He loses his brother to her. You two chained up together like some tragic little love story. It’s all so poetic.”

“I didn’t kill Rory,” Zeynep said, her voice trembling but steady. “Drago did.”

Jason stepped forward, slow and deliberate, each movement meant to intimidate. “You think that matters? Who pulled the trigger? He was dead the moment you ran. You knew what would happen. You knew Drago would kill him.”

“I didn’t,” she breathed. “I just… I had to get out.”

“You were his property,” Jason spat. “Rory died because you fucking ran.”

“Back the fuck up,” I snapped, the words cut from my throat as I lunged forward, the chains yanking me back hard. “You got beef, bring it to me. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her.”

But Jason didn’t even glance my way.

“This ain’t about you, motherfucker,” he said coldly. “You’re just a fuckin’ means to an end.”

Chelsea stepped toward me, eyes lit with something poisonous. “You should’ve taken my offer, Kain. You could’ve stayed. Let me keep loving you. Let me be the only one who ever gave a shit about you and that messed up face.”

My laugh was low and hollow. “You never loved anyone but the woman in your mirror.”

She crouched beside me, leaned in too close, her breath hot against my face. “I loved you enough to stay. Enough to let you touch me after you came back twisted and broken. I built you, Kain. And she—” she turned and jabbed a finger at Zeynep “—she destroyed everything.”

Zeynep’s voice sliced through the air, quiet but deadly. “No. He’s not broken. You and Jason, you’re the monsters. We just have to survive you.”

Jason lunged forward, fists clenched, eyes wild, but Chelsea’s hand on his arm stopped him cold.

“Not yet,” she said, calm and collected, like this was just the beginning of the show. “Let them sit in it a while. Let it sink in. Let them imagine all the ways this ends.”

Jason stared at Zeynep like she was a fire he meant to burn himself in, then leaned in close—too close.

“You’ll beg me to kill you before it’s over,” he whispered.

Then he turned and walked out, Chelsea trailing behind with one last backward glance and a satisfied smile.

The door slammed shut, the lock slid into place, and just like that, the silence came back. Heavy. Smothering.

Zeynep trembled, her eyes closed tight, her lips pressed together to keep them from cracking further. I wanted to hold her, cover her, shield her with my whole body, but the chains bit into my wrists every time I tried to move.

“I won’t let a fuckin’ thing happen to you,” I growled, the promise torn straight from my chest.

She looked up, tears brimming but not falling, and she nodded once. Fierce.

She believed me.

And that meant I couldn’t break.

Not here.

Not now.