Chapter 34
JASPER
Blake’s words echo through the basement like poison.
I don’t even think. My fist connects with his jaw, with a crack loud enough to echo. I want it to hurt. I want him to feel every ounce of hate I’ve got left for what he’s done. He slumps back, blood smeared down his chin, eyes dazed.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I snarl, and then I’m grabbing my jeans, tossing Sawyer her shirt. Riot’s already pulling on his sweats, but his glare never leaves Blake.
We don’t look back. We’re done giving him the power to ruin anything else.
We head upstairs, Sawyer tucked between us. She’s still a little unsteady, cheeks flushed, jaw set like she’s just walked through fire and come out new on the other side.
Riot nudges her as we pass the kitchen. “You good, Angel?”
She grins—worn but wild. “Never better.”
The bathroom’s still warm from the last time we cleaned up, steam curling on the mirror. I turn on the shower, check the temp, and pull her in with me, Riot crowding in behind, all hands and gentle touches now. The room fills with the scent of her shampoo, the hiss of water, the soft hum of safety.
I brush her hair off her face, study the marks on her skin—our teeth, our hands, all the ways we’ve claimed her. But I see the bruises he left, too, and I force myself to be gentle, so fucking careful.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask, fingers tracing her jaw.
She looks at me, then at Riot, her eyes clearer than I’ve seen in days. A strength in them that wasn’t there before.
“I’m better than okay,” she says, voice steady. “I’m not the girl he tried to break. Not anymore. You can’t shatter something that has learned how to rebuild itself.”
Riot grins, pride shining through. “Fuck, that’s my girl.”
She laughs, softer, but there’s steel in it now. “He wanted to ruin me. But I got to choose how this ended. I get to decide who I belong to—and it’s not him.”
I kiss her hard, feeling every bit of that new fire. “Damn right. You’re nobody’s victim, baby.”
She leans into us, letting the water run down, allowing us to touch every bruise and mark—proof that she’s survived, but more than that. She’s changed.
Riot laughs, palms sliding over her hips, thumb grazing the bruise on her thigh. “You’re the toughest girl I know. Also, the wettest. Never felt you squeeze so damn tight before.”
She cackles, tossing her head back. “Well, what girl hasn’t dreamed of getting fucked and ruined right in front of her shitty ex?”
I smirk, leaning in to nip her shoulder. “That’s my girl.”
Riot grins, crowding in from behind to kiss her neck. “You put on a fucking show, Angel. He’ll never forget it. And neither will I.”
We take our time—soap, water, careful hands. I can’t stop touching her, like I have to remind myself she’s here, she’s safe, she’s ours. She lets us. Hell, she basks in it, tilting her head for kisses, arching her back when I smooth shampoo through her hair.
I press my forehead to hers as the water runs hot down our bodies.
“You did more than survive,” I whisper. “You fucking owned it.”
She grins, lips finding mine. “Guess I learned from the best.”
For a minute, it’s just us. Steam and skin, soft laughter and the promise that none of this is over—not by a long shot. But for right now? Right now, we’re together. And nothing else in this fucked-up world matters.
RIOT
I can’t stop watching her. The way Sawyer stands under the spray, soap trailing down her skin, laughter soft. There’s something different about her now—a quiet gravity, a light behind her eyes that wasn’t there before.
I step out first, towel slung low on my hips, water dripping down my shoulders. I catch myself grinning like an idiot as I pull on clean clothes—one of Jasper’s shirts, my faded jeans, hair still wet. It hits me out of nowhere in the chest.
I love her.
Hell, I’m obsessed with her. I want to tattoo her name on every part of me. She’s it—the wild card I never saw coming. I don’t know what the hell’s going to happen next, with Jasper, with all of us. But I know I want her, in every way, for as long as she’ll let me.
And maybe that’s enough.
By the time she’s out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, I can’t help but pull her in for a kiss. She smiles up at me, something easy and brave in her eyes now.
“Ready?” Jasper asks, voice low.
“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter, jaw clenching at the thought of Blake, chained and waiting below.
We head for the basement stairs. The air is heavy, colder down here, each step echoing in the silence. Halfway down, Silas and Micah are waiting, both with that grim set to their jaws.
“Where’re you two headed?” I ask.
Silas jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Micah and I are heading back to the place we found Sawyer. To make sure we didn’t miss anything. You want anything brought back?”
“Only if it’s something that tells us why that psycho thought he owned her,” I grit out.
Micah nods. “We’ll call if we find anything.”
Sawyer squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. I don’t say it, but she’s my priority. Always.
Jasper’s already moving ahead, and I follow him all the way down into the dark—ready to face whatever’s left.
The air’s thick, still heavy with the ghosts of everything that’s gone wrong in this house.
Blake’s chained up in the chair, face a mess of dried blood and bruises, head bowed like he’s about to pray.
But when Sawyer walks in, he looks up, and the sick smile that twists across his lips makes me want to break every tooth in his fucking head.
“Back so soon? It’s okay, Sawyer. You did what you had to do. You were mad. I forgive you. When I get out of these chains, I’ll cleanse you. We’ll go back to the cabin. Just you and me. I know what you need.”
“And what exactly is that,” she asks him.
“A cleansing. Not a shower or a bath, but I’ll cleanse you with my cum. I’ll wash you with it and you’ll be all mine again.”
What the fuck is this dude on?
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look at Jasper or me for backup. Just faces Blake like she’s already won.
“You’re delusional, Blake,” she tells him, voice flat as concrete. “You’re never getting out. Not after what you did to me.”
He shrugs like he’s bored, smile still stuck to his face.
“You say that now, but you’ll see. They’ll hurt you, Sawyer.
Riot and Jasper—guys like them, they don’t stay.
You don’t want to be made a fool. You know they don’t love you, right?
You’re just a stop on the tour. A warm body to share for a while. ”
I step forward, not caring if he sees how close I am to snapping his fucking neck. Jasper’s tense beside me, one muscle jumping in his jaw. But Sawyer? She doesn’t even blink.
“You think I don’t know what real love looks like?” she says, soft but sharp enough to draw blood. “You think you can hurt me now? After everything?”
Blake leans back, eyes shining with a cult-leader gleam. “I know you better than anyone, Sawyer. You’ll be lost without me. They’ll leave. I never will.”
Jasper moves, coming between them, his voice just above a growl. “You’re never going near her again. You’re done.”
Blake laughs and the sound makes my skin crawl. “We’ll see, won’t we? When they’re gone, when you’re all alone again—you’ll come crawling back.”
Sawyer stands her ground, letting that old fear burn up, leaving nothing but steel in its place. “No, Blake. Not this time.”
I lean back, crossing my arms, letting my smile curl slowly and dangerously. “Keep talking, asshole. The only thing you’re crawling to is a shallow grave.”
Blake’s breathing shifts, lips peeling back in a bloody grin like he’s finally remembered he still has some cards left to play.
He looks right at Sawyer. “Go ahead, act tough. But they don’t know everything, do they? How you liked it when I—”
Jasper lunges, but I hold up a hand—wait. Let him talk. I want to see just how low he’s willing to go.
Blake’s voice turns mocking, sing-song sweet, aimed straight at the spot he thinks will break her. “You didn’t tell them what you did, did you? How you wanted it—how you liked the knife, the mask. You think they’re really going to want you once they know how fucked up you are?”
He’s looking at me and Jasper, searching for even a flicker of doubt, of disgust—some proof his poison is working. But all I feel is rage.
Jasper and I don’t hesitate. We each grab one of Blake’s hands, pinning them flat to the arms of the chair. He realizes what’s coming a split second too late.
“Wait—wait, don’t—!”
Snap. Crack.
He screams, thrashing so hard the chair rocks, sweat and spit flying. I don’t flinch. Neither does Jasper. I lean in, cold and close, making sure he feels every word. “That’s for thinking you could use her to hurt us. For thinking you ever really had her, you delusional piece of shit.”
Blake sobs loudly, blood and snot mixing as his hands hang ruined. “You’re fucking insane—she’ll never—”
Jasper cuts him off, voice iron. “We’re still here, Trouble. Not going anywhere.”
“Oh, you think this is love?” he spits, wild-eyed, voice cracking.
“She’s a mess. Ask her about her nightmares, her panic attacks.
Ask her what it’s like to be so fucked up she can hardly sleep unless somebody’s holding her.
Ask about her therapy—about her shitty childhood, all the things she did to feel something.
All the shit she’s never told you. How she would cut herself, but she’s covered them with tattoos?
You really want to deal with that forever?
She’ll always be broken. Always need saving.
Always dragging you down. She’s damaged.
You think she can love you back without bringing you down with her? She can’t. She never will.”
But Sawyer—God, she stands her ground, staring him down like she’s already won.