Chapter 33
SAWYER
I leave Macee’s room with my head a little lighter.
My heart pounding—not just from relief but this weird, giddy excitement curling in my chest. Macee’s grin as I walked out?
Pure mischief, pure jealousy. She’s dying for the gossip, and honestly, I don’t blame her.
Who wouldn’t be jealous? Not everyone gets to play out their own dark, messy fairytale with two men who’d burn the world for them.
I head down the hall to the room I was staying in before and I’m surprised to see some of my stuff piled neatly on the bed. My phone is right on top. It’s like a relic from another life. I haven’t looked at it since everything happened.
I sink onto the mattress, picking it up with trembling fingers, and the screen lights up—so many missed calls, so many texts.
Notifications are blowing up. “Where’s Sawyer?
Are you okay? Please text us.” My Instagram DMs are flooded, and the #WhereIsSawyer tag is trending.
My heart aches and flutters at the same time—so many people, some I barely know, desperate for news.
I see my sister’s name pop up at the top of my texts—her messages frantic at first, then turning almost poetic in her worry.
It looks like Macee has been playing my stand-in, messaging everyone back, posting reassuring updates on my social media, and pretending to be me so I could breathe.
Posts are saying I’m “taking time off” — a couple of carefully filtered pics of the view outside Jasper’s place—proof of life for everyone watching.
I scroll for a minute, letting it all sink in. My chest tightens at the thought of everyone worrying, but mostly, I’m just so damn grateful for Macee. She really thinks of everything.
My fingers hover over the screen as I consider replying to all of them, reassuring everyone that I’m okay. But then I think of what’s waiting for me downstairs—what I want, what I deserve. My story isn’t something I owe to anyone, not right now.
I set my phone aside, and walk over to the dresser. I pull out one of Riot’s shirts from the pile, and hold it close, breathing him in. A slow smile tugs at my lips.
I get dressed in front of the mirror, heart thumping like I’m about to step on stage instead of into a basement.
I don’t think too hard about the details—just enough coverage, but nothing that hides the bruises, the marks, the story written across my skin.
Tonight isn’t about pretty or perfect. It’s about a reckoning.
JASPER
She meets us at the top of the stairs, Riot’s shirt swallowing her frame, eyes dark with something sharp and wild. There’s something different about her tonight—a kind of purpose in every step. I catch her gaze and hold it, searching for any sign of fear, but all I see is fire.
“You ready?” Riot asks, a little edge in his voice.
Sawyer smiles—the kind that makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and lock everyone out. “Yeah. I’m ready to show this motherfucker he doesn’t choose a damn thing for me.”
God, I fucking love her.
We make our way down to the basement, the air growing cooler and heavier with every step. She notices the desk first, and I see her cheeks flush. I wonder what she’s picturing. I know exactly what I’m picturing.
Blake’s passed out in the center of the room, wrists still cuffed to the chair, head lolling. Riot strides right up to him and smacks him hard across the face, knuckles cracking loudly in the echoing dark.
Blake jerks awake, head snapping sideways, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Ooo, what a wake-up call. But you’ve got some questions to answer, Blake.” Riot teases.
I lean back against the toolbox, arms crossed, eyes on Sawyer as she circles him. She’s got questions, and this time, she’s not trembling. She’s not asking for permission.
Every time Blake dodges, refuses, or spits some bullshit excuse, I see her get angrier. Her jaw tightens, voice gets sharper, and her hands ball into fists. It’s not fear she feels now. It’s pure fury.
She stalks towards him until there’s barely a foot of air between them—nothing but chains and the weight of everything he’s done.
“Why?” she demands, voice trembling with rage but never fear. “Why did you think you could take me? After I left you? After I made it clear you don’t own me?”
Blake laughs as he meets her eyes, an ugly sneer twisting his face.
“Because I do own you. No one else is ever gonna want you, not after me. You’re ruined.
Everyone has always used you, Sawyer, just like they are.
You’re nothing but pussy to them. You were always gonna crawl back, I just made the choice for you sooner. ”
Her jaw clenches. For a heartbeat, she shakes—like the words hit a nerve. But then, her expression goes cold as she draws herself up taller, a force of nature.
“Well,” she says, calm and lethal, “let me show you the choices I plan on making for the rest of my life.”
She doesn’t blink as she holds his gaze, and then, she slowly slides her hands down to the waistband of her shorts. Pops the button, drags the zipper open, and lets them drop to the floor in a whisper of denim around her black Vans.
Blake looks shocked and a little hopeful. Like he’s about to get something completely different than what he actually is.
Well, this is gonna be even better than I thought.
She steps out of the shorts, never looking away, Riot’s shirt falling just enough to skim the tops of her thighs. I also see the way Riot is looking at her—like he’s been waiting for this moment, hungry and reverent all at once.
But then she shocks even us. She grabs the hem of Riot’s shirt she’s wearing, peels it over her head, and tosses it to the side.
And standing there in front of her kidnapper, her abuser, Sawyer is wearing nothing but a gothic black two-piece lingerie set. It’s perfect on her—lacy, strappy, all her ink and darkness peaking through, hugging every curve.
It’s armor and confession and fuck you all at once.
RIOT
Sawyer stands in black lingerie, with fire in her eyes even as she steps out of her shorts and tosses my shirt aside. The chains on Blake rattle, but I don’t look at him. Just my girl.
She motions her me to come to her and I waste no time. Once I get to her I lift her onto the edge of the desk, letting her legs dangle I spreading them wide so I can step between. She grabs my wrist, meeting my gaze, unashamed even with her kidnapper chained up just a foot away.
“I want him to see what it looks like when someone worships me. I want you to make me fall apart right in front of him.” She whispers, but I’m sure he can still hear her.
Goddamn.
I let my hands run up from her ankles, slow as sin, every inch an offering. “You want him to watch while you cum for me, Angel? Want him to see exactly what you look like when you’re begging for it?”
She bites her lip, never looking away from Blake. “I want him to know he could never make me feel like this. I want him to see how you, how both of you, make me feel. Make sure he knows he could never give me what you and Jasper do.”
From the chair, Blake’s voice cuts in, desperate and bitter. “Sawyer, this isn’t you. You’re just trying to hurt me, baby, but you know this isn’t real—”
I drag my thumbs up Sawyer’s thighs, spreading her wide, not even glancing in his direction. “You hear that, Blake? She wants this. She wants all of it. And she’s not begging you.”
Blake yanks against the cuffs, voice panicked. “You’re fucking sick. Both of you. Sawyer, look at me—you don’t have to do this! You’re just pissed at me—”
I bend down, teeth scraping lightly up her inner thigh, my voice just for her but loud enough for him. “You ready to show him who owns you now, baby?”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t flinch. “Yes. I want him to watch every second. I want him to know he can’t break me—no matter what he did.”
Blake’s words turn to pathetic and frantic. “Sawyer, please, just talk to me. Don’t let them do this to you, talk to me. I know you. You’re not—”
Jasper’s watching from the shadows, hunger in his eyes, hands flexing like he wants to rip the world apart just for her. I grin, drag my tongue up her thigh, every inch for her, every second another nail in Blake’s coffin.
“Are you gonna be our good girl, Sawyer? Or do want to drag this out, let him see how good it gets before we let you break?”
She meets my gaze, eyes wild. “Make me wait. Make him watch me lose it for you.”
“You’re mine. You always have been. This doesn’t change anything—you hear me? This is just you trying to get back at me!” He’s screaming now, but we don’t even turn his way.
Jasper steps closer, his eyes never leaving her. “You heard her, Riot. Let’s make it a show.”
I palm her thighs, pressing her back just a little, so she’s entirely on display.
Legs spread, eyes blazing. God, she’s so damn brave and beautiful.
“You want everyone to know, Angel? I’ll make you scream for it.
You’ll cum when I say, and he’ll never forget what it looks like watching a real man wreck you. ”
She nods, lips parting as my fingers finally slide up to tease the edge of her panties.
“Good girl, you’re soaked for me already.” I murmur, eyes on hers as my thumb circles her clit. “Let’s give him something to remember.”
SAWYER
I feel Riot’s hands slide up my calves again, his palms rough and grounding. I can feel Blake staring at me, chained and spitting ugly words but they barely register. His voice is just background static, drowned out by Riot’s touch and Jasper’s heavy, silent presence.
I look Blake right in the eye, steady as I can manage. “You don’t get to talk over me anymore,” I say, my voice shockingly strong. “You don’t get to make the rules. This is my choice. My life. And you’re going to watch every second.”
Riot presses his hands to my thighs, spreading me wider. “You want to show him the mess you make when I touch you?”
God, yes. I want him to see. I want him to choke on it.