18. For Every Deck, A Joker Is Needed
Chapter 18
For Every Deck, A Joker Is Needed
The Prisoner
Four Years Ago
T he Prisoner’s roommate stumbled back into their cell as the door slammed shut behind him.
“It’s getting worse.” The Prisoner stood up. He wanted to help, but he was still chained to the wall. Just as he had been since he arrived.
He hadn’t been tortured, physically at least, not since Nightingale had come, but in some ways this cruelty was worse.
His Griffin gang roommate sat up unsteadily. Before falling to the concrete again, he turned his head to face him. A ruthless smirk forming. “It won’t be much longer now. My brother will be here within the month. I can make it until then. ”
“How can you be so certain? How can your brother even help you here?” The Prisoner rolled his head, stretching it. Nightingale still hadn’t returned…but maybe… “I told you. When I get out of here I’ll be thrown in the fucking murder game, and I will win it and then I will come back here and save you.”
The Griffin gang member laughed, a full belly noise, before he broke into a spluttering cough. He groaned. “You’re either delusional or an idiot. Have you seen the winner of the last game anywhere? Heard about him?”
“No, but that doesn’t—”
“You won’t ‘win’ anything special in that fucking game. The prize is your life . Nothing more. Nothing less.” The Griffin gang member finally managed to sit up. He brought up a hand wiping the blood from his nose. “You don't want to leave with me when my brother comes? Fine. I'll still come find and save you if you win the game.”
“You have to save my daughter, too.” The words left The Prisoner’s lips before he could pull them back.
In the last few months with his newfound cell mate, they had spoken of many things, but never anything too deep, and he had never ever mentioned Sparrow before.
“You…you have a daughter ? A natural born? Where is her mother?” The Griffin gang member stood up on shaky legs, stomping until he was right in The Prisoner’s face. “You need to tell me! Is it Raven?”
Dread pooled in The Prisoner’s gut.
Had this all been a farce? Someone sent to find Raven?
“You’ll never find her!” Julian snarled, leaning back before swinging his head forward and headbutting the man with all his strength.
The man fell back onto the ground with an oomph.
Before The Prisoner could do anything else, their door swung open .
Nightingale stepped into the room, sweeping a haughty glance around the space. “You have a friend?” She swung her leg back, kicking the man with her boot.
The Griffin gang member didn’t react. Instead, he focused his attention on The Prisoner. “Keep Sparrow safe. I will come for you. For both of you,” he whispered.
Uncertainty crept through The Prisoner, but he didn’t have time to process it.
Nightingale swept her hands towards the guards behind her. “Take this asshole out of here! Put him across from his other men . The ones who betrayed him.”
“But—” one of the guards began to argue, but before he could say anything more, Nightingale was spinning around.
A gunshot echoed painfully loud around the space, followed by a thud as the guard dropped to the ground.
The other hurriedly jumped forward, grabbing hold of the Griffin gang member and dragging him away.
Except…
Realization shot through The Prisoner. He tried to jolt forward but the restraints held him in place.
Betrayed by his men?
He wasn’t just a member of the Griffin gang.
“ The Griffin?”
Nightingale cackled. “You just figured that out? Oh sweet Julian, you never were the smartest. Thankfully for you, this year’s games will not be relying on intelligence.”
The Prisoner’s eyes flashed to the woman before him. “Leave me. Let me rot and die here. ”
I trust Griffin more than her. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe his brother is coming.
Nightingale bared her teeth as she stepped forward. When she was just a foot away, she flashed the syringe in her free hand.
“Julian. Julian. Julian. That isn’t part of the plan. You may not be the King or the Queen, but you are still an important card, nonetheless. For every deck, a Joker is needed.”
She swung the gun to him, his attention following the trail.
It was the distraction she needed to push the syringe into him.
She shifted back, her frozen eyes stabbing into him. “Oh, you poor sweet fool. I hope you make it through this, because this is only the beginning .”
Fuck.
The Prisoner’s nerves buzzed for just a moment before they went numb. He slumped back as his vision darkened and blurred. He tried to move, to speak, but nothing cooperated with him.
I’m scared.
He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself. But he was–he was terrified. Not only for himself, but what this meant for Sparrow.
“I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I truly do.”
Confusion pierced The Prisoner’s mind. The words hadn’t come from the Nightingale he knew, they weren’t spoken with malice or anger.
No, they were wistful, soft . As if somewhere deep inside, a piece of Anadil might still be left.
The thought didn’t have a chance to solidify before unconsciousness swallowed The Prisoner whole.