“That’s Vinny’s line.” I giggle, and his mouth curls, showing all his teeth.
“Then he can fight me for it,” he growls as something inside me warms.Wrong time, wrong place but right feeling.
The guards advance as Jagger rolls his shoulders. The voice in him is there. I can see it. Sitting under his skin.Begging.But he doesn’t move. Not until he glances at me—a question without words. I smile.Lolli again.
“Go on, Big Bad,” I whisper. “Be loud. Then once we’re done here, I want you all to myself.”
He grins, and then he crashes into them and the hallway erupts. I lean against the wall. Breath shaking, body weak, but my heart is wild.
“He came for you,” Jethro whispers as I watch Jagger fight like the world owes him blood.
“Yeah, he did,” I say as my smile trembles.For once, Jethro doesn’t ruin it. For once, I let myself feel it.
Jagger finishes and turns back to me, breathing hard, eyes frantic until they land on me. Blood. So much fucking blood.
He spins the knife in his hand through his fingers, then reaches for me again, and I step into him as he wraps hisarms tightly around me. I rest my head against his bare chest, listening to his heart drum. “You’re real,” I whisper as his hand slides to the back of my head, holding me in place.
“Yeah, Little Riot, and so are you.”
Down the hall, another alarm starts screaming, and Jagger lifts his head then his body tenses.The moment is over. The war is not.But when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go of my hand. Not this time. Not even when the lights cut out or when the hall goes black—not even when something in the dark starts laughing. Jagger squeezes my fingers, and I smile into the darkness. Because now… I don’t have to walk through it alone.
The Observation Room
Vinny Salotto
Standing here, not strapped down. No leather biting into my wrists. No chairs bolted to the floor. That’s how I know this is worse. No wires. No water. No needles. No screaming machine built for one person at a time. Just me… a wall of monitors and Master D standing beside me like he hasn’t dragged the whole world under Hillsboro and taught it to breathe wrong.
On the screens, they break in different ways. Killian in the noise room. Lucifer in silence. Jagger in the dark with his ghosts. Lolli strapped to a bed, eyes wide, mouth open around a scream the monitor doesn’t let me hear. I don’t move or blink. Master D notices.Of course he does.
“Your pulse is elevated,” he states, but I don’t respond. He turns his head slightly, looking at me. “You hide it well.” And again, I stay silent. The monitor in front of me flickers as Jagger slams against the restraints and his mouth is pulled back in a snarl.I know that look. I’ve seen it before. Different room. Different life. Same boy trying to become bigger than the thing hurting him.My jaw tightens, and Master D looks back at thescreen. “His aggression is reactive. Predictable and useful,” he says, and I glance at him.
“You call people useful too often,” I say, and he almost smiles.
“And you remove problems too easily.” He smirks.Fair. Doesn’t mean I like hearing it.The screen changes to Lolli now. Her hair is damp. Face smeared with white, red, and black makeup. I stare at her, but I don’t let it show. “She’s looking for them,” he says, and I glance over at him.
“Where are they?” I ask, but his eyes stay on the monitors.
“Exactly where I need them.”
The answer sits between us like a loaded gun. I could take it. Maybe. Not him though. Not yet.
There are two guards by the door. A camera in the left corner. The lock mechanism is exposed but reinforced. And last, but not least, a vent above us, but too narrow for a body to fit in. This is the perfect observation room designed by someone who expects betrayal.Smart, but annoying.He folds his hands behind his back and glances at me.
“You’re angry,” he says, but I shake my head.
“Disappointed then?”
I stare at Lolli’s screen. She’s saying something that I can’t hear but I don’t need to. I see the shape of the word.Jagger.My heart drops inside my chest but I keep a straight face. He’s looking for me to react and I won’t give it to him. “No, I’m waiting,” I finally answer as his eyes snap towards me.
“For what?” he asks, but I don’t answer. Because if I say it out loud, I’ll have to act, and right now—acting gets them killed. That's the problem with cages. Sometimes the first thing you break isn’t the door. It’s timing.
There was a time before all this. Before Hillsboro… before Master D… before we were reduced to files, triggers, tests, and reactions. We were just trouble in expensive shoes and cheaprooms. Not friends. The word never fits right. But something close. Something meaner.
Jagger was always the loudest, not because he talked the most. No… that was Lucifer. Lucifer could talk an angel into sin and a sinner into thanking him for her. Jagger was loud because he couldn’t enter a room without disturbing it. Chairs shifted and heads turned. People were careful around him. Killian watched everything like he was taking measurements for a funeral. Me… I stayed near the exits. Jagger doesn’t remember this… and it's my fault he doesn’t, but the last night he saw me—Killian made him come out to the club, and when I arrived, he was already drunk and the drugs were flying high through his veins.
The music vibrated off the walls as the lights bled red under the frame. Jagger leaned back in a booth with his boots on the table. Killian kept moving a glass half an inch to the left every time Lucifer moved it half an inch to the right. He noticed and did it on purpose.
“You know. One day, someone is going to mistake that little habit for charm.” He smiles over the rim of his drink. Killian doesn’t look at him.
