Chapter 36
SAWYER
Dear Sawyer,
You’re still here. You survived.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table in Jasper’s house, a house that is starting to feel like home.
My wrists are almost entirely done healing, and my hands are steady as I write this.
Riot’s music is playing from somewhere down the hall, Jasper’s humming in the writing room, and light from the sunset is pouring through the windows like it has something to prove.
You made it. I need you to know that.
It’s been almost a two weeks, but I don’t know what I expected after we killed him.
There’s no manual for how to scrape the blood off your skin—literal and not—no step-by-step for washing your nightmares out of your hair.
The first thing I remember is the water.
Riot pulled me into the shower and Jasper followed.
Their hands were gentle, careful. They scrubbed my skin as if they could erase the past if they tried hard enough.
They were silent at first. Just let the water run over us, warm and endless, until I started to shiver and then sob.
They held me through all of it. Riot pressed kisses to my temple, whispering about how I was free and safe.
Jasper’s hands never left my waist, grounding me, reminding me I wasn’t alone.
The police came two days later; they were still looking for Blake. The whole house banded together—Silas, Micah, Macee, Ash, and Jace. Nobody let them near the basement. Riot lied through his teeth, and Jasper never let go of my hand. We got through it.
They came back. Different day, same badges—Detective Michael and a younger partner who did most of the talking.
They asked careful questions like when I’d last seen Blake, whether he’d ever threatened me, if I’d noticed him following, if I needed a protective order.
I told them the truth I could live with, that he’d terrorized me for years, I’d gotten away, and I was safe now.
They left a card. They called two more times to “check in”, voices soft with practiced empathy.
When they found him a few days later, the official ruling was self-inflicted… no suspects… next of kin notified. One more call from the detective, a final pass at the same questions, and then just… silence. No cuffs. No court dates. No statement to make the news.
Could it really be that easy? My mind still tries to snag on the word. Easy isn’t exactly right. It was… handled. The boys made sure the story the world found matched the truth I could bear. I escaped. He didn’t. The end.
Every bruise is healing, along with every scar, every memory. There are days when it still hurts, when I flinch at shadows, or the nightmares crawl under my skin and remind me what it felt like to be powerless. But then I remember what it felt like to choose. To stand up and say, No more.
Riot teases me now about how I looked sexy in blood, that he’d kill for me all over again. Jasper shakes his head and pulls me closer. We’re a mess, but it’s our mess.
The bands are going back on tour in a few days.
The guys’ fans have been incredibly supportive and understanding during their time away.
Macee has gone back home now, but I don’t think I could have gotten through this without her.
She’s supposed to be joining us on some of the stops for the next two months.
I look at myself in the mirror every morning now. I no longer see a victim. I see a survivor. A lover. A girl who learned that sometimes you have to become a monster to defeat one.
If you’re reading this, if you’re ever scared again, ever feeling like you’re too much, too broken, too lost just remember this:
You get to choose how your story ends.
You get to decide who you are after the darkness.
I chose love. I chose myself.
And for the first time in my life, I am free.
—Sawyer
***
I sign my name at the bottom of the page. It feels final, heavy and light all at once.
I take a second to just let myself breathe. The house is quiet, but humming with life. I close my notebook, tuck it away, and push to my feet, drawn to the pull I always feel when I think of him.
I go to find Jasper in the writing room. He’s on the couch with one knee up, phone in his hand, guitar next to him. The second he sees me, he opens his arms like he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment. I sink into his lap, curling against his chest, and he wraps me up without hesitation.
He brushes a thumb along my jaw. “How’d the therapy-writing go?”
I sigh, letting the weight of the letter melt away. “Good. I think I actually needed it.”
He grins, all wicked dimples and soft eyes, and leans in to kiss me—slow, gentle, a thousand unsaid things in the way he holds my face. When we break apart, he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear, searching my eyes.
“Riot around?” I ask, but his face says everything.
“Oh, I don’t know where he is,” he teases, feigning innocence. “He might have… something planned for you.”
I narrow my eyes, grinning. “You’re a terrible liar, Reign.”
He shrugs, mouth twitching with mischief. “You’ll have to go outside to figure it out. I’d hurry, if I were you.”
My curiosity lights up. I press a kiss to his cheek, wriggle off his lap, and bolt for the stairs. I can hear Jasper’s quiet laughter following me, a promise in every step.
When I make it outside the sky is painted in purple and gold, the first hints of twilight creeping in. I step out onto the patio, cool stone beneath my bare feet, and spot a folded piece of paper on the table. My name is scrawled across it in Riot’s messy handwriting.
My heart flips. I snatch it up, unfolding the note with shaking hands.
Hellcat,
If you’re ready to live out that masked, chasing fantasy you told us about, head into the woods the second the sun disappears. Don’t bring a light. Don’t look back. You know we’ll find you.
—R
A thrill runs through me so sharp it makes my thighs press together. I can already see the woods darkening at the edge of the yard, the shadows thick and wild, waiting for me.
And I’m ready.
God, I am so ready.
The second I finish the note, I’m already running up the stairs, mind spinning wild.
I run to my room, heart pounding, stripping out of my clothes with frantic, giddy fingers.
I grab the softest pair of black shorts I own, pull on one of Riot’s old band tees that hangs loose and low, and pause just long enough to check my reflection.
My cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright. I look a little wild. I like it.
I pad barefoot back through the house, every step echoing with anticipation, every muscle tight with electricity. When I reach the back door, the sun has nearly disappeared, bleeding purple and blue behind the trees, sinking fast.
I step out onto the porch. The air is thick with summer, warm and a little sweet. I walk out into the yard, grass cold against my feet, and stop at the edge of the woods as I watch shadows spill across the ground like spilled ink.
The silence is thick, almost humming, as I stare into the trees.
My pulse pounds in my ears, and I can’t stop picturing their faces, the masks they might wear.
Devil, demon, wolf. Or black leather, silver studs, sharp teeth grinning out of the dark.
I wonder if they’ll say my name or if they’ll take me, rough and wordless.
My skin prickles and I fight the urge to bolt before it’s even time.
What are they going to do to me? What am I going to let them do?
RIOT
I’m crouched low in the shadows, fingers tracing the edge of my mask.
It’s black leather with a wicked, red grin painted on it.
I can see her from here, standing at the tree line, bouncing on her toes like she’s trying to shake the nerves out of her skin.
She’s wearing my shirt, a pair of shorts, and her hair is wild.
God, I love her.
Jasper slides up next to me, moving as quietly as a ghost. His sleek, black matte mask is dangling from his hand, and he smirks when he sees the way I’m looking at her.
“You nervous?” he whispers, teasing me.
“Not for me. For her.”
He snorts, watching her with that dark, possessive gaze. “She’s not scared. She’s wants it. You can see it in the way she’s waiting.”
We both fall silent, watching her as the last of the sun bleeds out of the sky, turning the yard blue and shadowy. Jasper’s hand closes tightly around his mask. I can feel the tension coming off him.
“She gonna run?” he asks.
I bite back a laugh. “She’ll run. And we’ll catch her just like she wants.”
He glances sideways at me. “You got the rope?”
I flash it—a coil of black, soft, and firm. “Of course.”
He shakes his head as we crouch in the trees, masks dangling from our hands. “You know, out of all the dirty shit I’ve pictured us doing, I’m pretty sure I didn’t mentally prep for this level of… teamwork.”
I flash him a wicked grin. “That’s why we talked it out, remember? You said what you’re good with. I said what I’m good with. We don’t cross lines.”
He exhales slowly, jaw flexing as his gaze flicks back to Sawyer, stretching in the dusky light like she knows we’re watching. “Yeah. I remember.” His voice is lower now. “Still feels like we’re walking into the devil’s playground.”
I smirk. “We are. But we drew the map first, didn’t we?”
Jasper smirks, rubbing the back of his neck.“Just don’t get cocky, Riot. And if you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”
I wink, feeling a wicked thrill rush through my veins. “No promises, brother. Now let’s go.”
He grins, putting his mask on, the monster finally slipping into place.
I slide my mask over my face, pulse thrumming, heart wild.
We wait, silent shadows in the dark, watching as she steps into the trees.
JASPER
I see her clench her fists, exhale, and finally step into the shadows.
That’s my cue.