The service stairwellfeels longer this time. Each step echoes louder in my head, my bad knee protesting every rise, but I don’t slow. I can’t. The girl’s wide eyes and shaking hands are burned behind my eyelids. The enforcers’ flat voices. The way no one looked at her.
I reach the heavy door at the top without knocking. It’s ajar, just a crack, like they left it that way on purpose. A test. Or an invitation. I push it open.
The Skylight Room greets me with soft light filtering through the clouded glass. Faint beams cut through the cracked panes, casting silver across the concrete. The air feels warmer than the corridors below, trapped heat from the day, maybe, or from the bodies that have been here before.
I step inside. The door swings shut behind me with a soft click. They’re already waiting.
Armen leans against a shelving unit, arms crossed, eyes tracking me from the shadows. Sting sits on a low crate, elbows on his knees, watching with that quiet intensity that makes my skin prickle. Rogue stands near the center, under the widest patch of skylight, head tilted like he’s been expecting me.
None of them speak. They just look.
I walk to the middle of the room, stop under the glass. Stars prick through the grime—faint, distant, but real. I tilt my head back and let the light touch my face.
“I saw her get taken,” I say. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “The girl with the filters. They just… walked her out. No one stopped them. No one even looked sorry.”
Armen pushes off the shelf. “That’s how it works down here.”
“I know.” I lower my gaze to them. “And I know the only reason it wasn’t me is because of you three.”
Rogue steps closer. “You okay?”
“I’m terrified.” The admission slips out before I can catch it. “I came here for one thing. The Favor. Answers about my father. Revenge. And now… now I’m stuck. Forever. No out. No Favor. No truth. Just this.” I gesture at the room, at them. “And you.”
Sting stands slowly. “You think we don’t understand what you lost?”
“I think you don’t care.”
Armen moves then, fast, quiet, until he’s right in front of me. He doesn’t touch me. Just stands close enough that I feel the heat of him.
“We care,” he says. Low. Rough. “We care enough tokeep you breathing when most would’ve let you disappear like her.”
Rogue circles behind me. His fingers brush my shoulder, light, careful. “You can still want answers,” he murmurs. “But you’re here now. And you’re ours. That doesn’t erase what you came for. It just means you’ll survive.”
Sting steps in from the side. His hand finds my waist, warm, steady. “You’re not invisible, Vi. That’s dangerous. But it’s also power.”
I close my eyes. I’m shaking. Not from cold. From the tightrope I’m walking. One step left, and I disappear like that girl. One step right, and I stay here, claimed, protected, owned.
I reach for Armen first. Not gently. I grab his shirt and yank him down. The kiss is brutal. All teeth and desperation. I’m not asking. I’m taking. Because if I’m going to be theirs, I’m going to feel it. All of it.
He groans into my mouth, hands sliding to my hips, lifting me just enough to press me against the nearest shelf. Metal bites into my back. I don’t care.
Sting slides behind me, chest to my spine, mouth on my neck, hard bites that make me gasp. Rogue steps in close, fingers threading into my hair, tilting my head so he can kiss me next. His mouth is rougher now, claiming.
Clothes come off in a tangle. Shirt yanked over my head. Jeans shoved down. Hands everywhere, Armen’s on my breasts, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. Sting’s between my legs, fingers sliding through my folds, pushing inside without warning. Rogue’s mouth on my throat, then lower, biting above my collarbone.
They guide me down to the blankets on the floor. I end up on my back, light spilling across my skin.
Armen kneels between my thighs, spreads me with rough hands. “Look at me,” he orders.
I do.
He pushes in hard, no hesitation, no waiting. I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t ask if I’m ready. Just takes. His rhythm is punishing, deep, every thrust driving me into the blanket.
Sting kneels at my head, cock hard and heavy. “Open,” he says.
I do. He slides in, thick and demanding, filling my mouth until my jaw aches. I suck hard, desperate. His hand tangles in my hair, controlling the pace.
Rogue settles beside me, fingers finding my clit, circling rough and fast in time with Armen’s thrusts. The combination is overwhelming, full, touched everywhere, used.
