Chapter 32
SAWYER
The hallway to the basement is colder than the rest of the house, and somehow darker with every step.
I trail Jasper, feeling Riot’s heat just behind me, his hand brushing my lower back in silent support.
The door at the end is already cracked open, and I can smell the air before we reach it.
Metal, sweat, something sour and electric sticks to my tongue, making me want to cover my nose.
Jasper flicks the light on as we descend, his boots thudding quietly down each wooden step. Riot’s heavier footfalls echo behind mine, hand steady at my waist—an anchor if I need one.
The basement isn’t what I expected. It’s unfinished, the walls just concrete and exposed beams, shadows puddling in the corners. There’s a thin, stained mattress in the corner that looks nothing like a bed, and chained to a chair in the middle of the room, is Blake.
He’s smaller somehow. Maybe it’s the chains?
He doesn’t look up at first, just sits with his head bowed, hair greasy and falling into his eyes, jaw dark with days of unshaved stubble.
He reeks of old blood, sweat, and fear. When he finally glances up, his eyes find mine and there’s a flicker of something that looks like relief, hope, maybe even guilt—but it dies quickly, replaced by that old arrogance.
It causes me to freeze halfway down the steps, heart in my throat. Riot comes to stand beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. Jasper moves ahead, blocking Blake from view for a second, making it clear who’s in charge here.
The room is heavy with silence. Each second stretches out like a taut wire.
I can feel the bruises on my neck and wrists throbbing in time with my pulse. My palms go clammy thinking about how the last time I saw Blake, I was begging to survive. Now, I’m standing in front of him—alive, free, and not alone.
Riot leans in, voice low at my ear. “You okay, Hellcat?”
I nod, even if I don’t believe it. I have to be. I have to see him. I have to look him in the eyes and take back everything he tried to steal.
Jasper steps aside, letting me have the space. “Your show, Trouble. We’re here, you’re safe. Say what you want. Do what you need to do.”
Blake shifts, the chains rattling. For a split second, I think he’s about to say my name. Maybe apologize or beg, but he just stares, lips curling, like he’s still clinging to whatever power he thinks he has left.
I’m not the girl he left in that bathroom, and he’s not getting out of here without answering for it.
Blake’s voice cracks through the basement, raspy from days without comfort, but still laced with that arrogant drawl that used to make me feel small. Not anymore.
“I told y’all she’d be pissed at you for chaining me down here and leaving me to rot,” he says while proudly puffing his chest. “I told them you’d have something to say about this.”
I don’t answer him.
Instead, I let my gaze wander around the room every inch.
There’s a grimy bucket in the corner. Empty food wrappers.
Blood on his lower lip next to some bruises, that I’m assuming are from the guys.
The cuffs dig into his wrists and ankles, causing my own wrists to ache at the memory of being chained.
Riot stands on my right, arms crossed, watching Blake like he’s just waiting for an excuse to hit him. Jasper’s on my left, posture deceptively casual, but his eyes never leave Blake’s face.
“C’mon, babe! They kept me down here for days. No one deserves this—not even me. Tell them to let me go.”
I meet his gaze at last, cold and steady, letting him see that I’m not the scared girl he remembers. He shifts under my stare; the smirk slipping a little.
I say nothing, choosing to let him squirm… Let him realize the power is mine now..
Blake licks his split lip, his voice growing smaller. “Say something, Sawyer. Don’t just stand there. I know you’re pissed at them. At me. At all of this.”
I walk a slow circle around the chair, never taking my eyes off him. Every chain, every bruise, every shiver is catalogued. My hands tremble, but I make no move to hide them.
“I told y’all,” Blake mutters again, quieter this time, almost pleading. “She wouldn’t want this.”
He’s wrong.
I finish my slow circle, the sound of my bare feet echoing on the concrete floor. Every step draws Blake’s attention, his gaze flickering between bravado and desperation. I stop right in front of him, just outside the reach of his chains.
He looks up, defiant. Blood crusts one nostril, his eyes ringed with exhaustion.
“You don’t want this, Sawyer,” he sneers, voice thick with spite and old habits.
“You can’t possibly. They’re fucked, you know that?
You think anyone’s gonna let them get away with this?
With keeping me chained up like a fucking animal?
You’re not one of them, Sawyer. You’re not like them. ”
Something inside me snaps.
Without warning, I pull my fist back and drive it hard into his nose and a sharp, satisfying crack splits the silence. Blake’s head snaps back, blood spurting instantly, his howl muffled by my heavy breathing.
He recoils, eyes wide and stunned, one hand yanking helplessly against the chain.
My knuckles sting, but I don’t flinch. I let the pain ground me. Let it remind me I’m here, I’m safe, and that I choose what happens next.
“Wrong. I’m exactly where I belong.” I tell him.
Behind me, Riot lets out a slow, appreciative whistle.
Blake coughs, blood pouring from his nose. He glares up at me, lip curling. “You think that makes you tough?” His voice is nasal, thick with pain and humiliation. “You think they’re gonna protect you? They don’t give a shit about you, Sawyer.”
I lean in closer, ice in my veins. “You’re going to answer my questions, Blake. All of them. One at a time.”
He spits blood onto floor, refusing to look at me. “Why should I? You got what you wanted. You only ever wanted the bad boys. That’s what you like.”
“You’re going to tell me why, Blake. Why did you take me?”
He laughs, a broken, bitter sound. “Not until you admit that you’re mine, that you liked it. Admit you fucking came for me. Tell them that, and I’ll give you what you want.”
Something in me goes cold, the old shame rearing up, but not for long. Because I feel Riot’s hand settle on my back. Jasper’s shadow looms just behind me, silent and waiting.
Riot steps forward, voice low and deadly. “You want to play hardball, Blake?”
Jasper crouches down, getting level with Blake, his stare absolute ice. “You answer her questions, or you answer to us.”
Blake laughs again, but there’s a tremor in it.
He tries to hold my gaze, but I see it—the fear, the desperation.
“She wants to know the truth?” he says, voice cracking as Jasper produces a small, wicked-looking blade from his back pocket.
“I’ll tell her, after she says it. You came for me, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”
Riot ’s hand snaps out, fingers digging into Blake’s jaw. “Wrong answer.”
Jasper’s voice is dark silk. “This is your last chance, Blake. Answer her questions or we’ll start ripping out your goddamn fingernails and see if that jogs your memory.”
Blake goes pale, breath catching.
My voice is steel, cutting through the tension. “Why? Why did you do it?”
RIOT
Blake’s mouth is still running, even with blood dripping down his face. “I said I’m not saying a damn thing until she admits it. You heard me, Sawyer. All you have to do is admit that you’re little fucked up self came for me.”
I don’t give him the chance to spit out another word. I reach into my pocket, fingers closing around the cold steel of the pliers I grabbed before we came down.
With no hesitation, I press his hand flat against the armrest of the chair, and clamp the pliers on his index fingernail. He barely gets out a curse before I yank.
A wet, ripping snap fills the room. Blake screams—a real, ugly sound that bounces off the concrete and dies in the darkness. Blood pours from the tip of his finger, a crimson river staining the floor.
Sawyer doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t even blink. She smiles like she’s finally seeing something she’s always wanted.
She leans in, voice ice-cold. “Why did you take me?”
He’s sobbing now, but stubborn as ever. “You—you have to say it, Sawyer. I want to hear you admit what you did. I want you to look at them and say you came for me—”
Before he can finish, Jasper’s already on his other side, moving smooth as a reaper. He grabs Blake’s left hand, pins it down, and in one quick, brutal move, rips out another nail with a fresh set of pliers.
Another scream. Louder this time. The air smells of copper, sweat, and panic.
Sawyer looks down at him, calm as a queen passing sentence. “Last chance, Blake. Why did you do it?”
He whimpers, blood and snot mixing on his face. “Admit it, Sawyer. Admit you came on my knife—”
I snap. I get right in his face, nose to nose, my voice a snarl. “That’s what you’re so caught up about? You want to talk about making her cum? How about you see what she looks like when she begs for it? When she actually wants it?”
I turn, moving straight to Sawyer—my hands still stained with Blake’s blood. I grab her jaw, tilting her chin up, meeting her eyes with every ounce of promise and filth I’ve got in me.
“Give me permission, Hellcat. Trust me. You’ll love this.”
She looks up at me, eyes glinting, and gives me the slightest nod—the power crackles in the air. Jasper’s grin is dark and mean as he catches on.
I slowly trail my hand down Sawyer’s side, letting Blake see every move I make. I don’t even look at him—I only have eyes for her.
“Let’s show him what it looks like when you cum for someone who actually knows how to make you scream,” I murmur, voice low and filthy. “And then he can sit there and rot with the truth.”