Chapter 2 Asher #2
"Thought I told you to stay away from me."
"You did." I move to stand beside him, leaving a few feet of space between us. "I'm not good at following orders."
"No shit."
The sun is setting now, painting the sky in shades of orange and red and we’re just standing here, staring at each other. It's almost peaceful. Almost.
"Your brothers seem solid," I say.
"They are."
"Jonah's funny."
"Jonah's a pain in the ass."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close. Progress.
"Why are you here, Asher? Really." He turns to face me, and his eyes are dark, unreadable. "And don't give me that bullshit about wanting answers. You could have asked your questions and left. You didn't have to offer your people, your resources, your help."
"Maybe I want to see them burn as much as you do."
"Maybe. But that's not all of it."
No. It's not. But the full truth is harder to say. The full truth involves six years of nightmares and obsession and a desperate, bone-deep need to understand why this man, of all people, showed me mercy when no one else ever had.
"I was fifteen when they took me," I say instead. "Pulled me out of juvie, told me I had a talent they could use. I thought I was being given a chance. A purpose. Turns out the purpose was killing other kids for entertainment."
Jinx is quiet. Listening.
"Six years in the pits. I lost count of how many fights. How many people I put down." I grip the railing, stare at my scarred knuckles. "I learned to shut off everything that wasn't useful. Fear, hope, compassion. All weaknesses. All things that could get you killed."
"Sounds familiar."
"Yeah. I figured it might." I turn to look at him. "And then I met you. And you had me beat. You had me dead to rights, bleeding out on concrete, and you just... stopped. Walked away. Took the punishment instead of taking my life."
"I told you. You weren't special. You were just an excuse."
"Bullshit." I step closer. He doesn't retreat. "You saw something in me that night. Same thing I saw in you. We… have something here. Chemistry. Attraction. Or maybe just understanding. Two monsters who were tired of being monstrous."
"I'm not tired of anything. I like being a monster."
"Jesus fuck, you believe yourself?"
His jaw flexes. "You don't know me."
"I know you better than anyone." Another step.
We're close now, close enough to touch. "I know you because you're the same as me.
Built for violence, trained for destruction, scared shitless of anything that feels like softness.
You think I don't understand? I spent six years trying to forget your face.
Trying to convince myself that what I felt in that pit was just adrenaline, just survival instinct, just anything other than what it actually was. "
"And what was it?"
"Recognition." I hold his gaze. "I saw myself in you. And it terrified me. Because if you were human, if you could choose not to kill, then maybe I could too. And I wasn't ready for that."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you asked. And because I don't do lies, Jinx.
Not anymore. The pits taught me that truth is the only weapon that never runs out.
" I reach out, slow enough that he can stop me if he wants, and grip his chin.
Force him to meet my eyes. "I want you. I've wanted you for six years.
And I think you want me too, but you're too scared to admit it. "
"I'm not scared of anything."
"You're scared of this." I brush my thumb across his lower lip. His breath catches. "You're scared of what happens if you let yourself have something good. Because the last time you wanted something, they used it against you."
His eyes widen. Just a fraction, but I see it. I've hit a nerve.
"How do you know about that?"
"I don't. But I know the pits. I know how they operated.
Find out what someone cares about, use it as leverage.
" I release his chin but don't step back.
"They did it to me too. A girl I grew up with in juvie.
They brought her in, made me watch while they.
.." I stop. Breathe. "I learned the same lesson you did.
Don't care about anyone. Don't want anything. Keep your heart locked up tight."
"And now?"
"Now I'm tired of being locked up." I lean in, my mouth close to his ear. "Tonight. After everyone's asleep. Come to my room."
He pulls back, stares at me. "That's not how this works. You don't just tell me what to do. Besides you said I had thirty-six hours. It’s been like, one."
"I'm not telling. I'm asking." I hold his gaze. "Come to my room tonight. Let's stop circling and start figuring out what this is. No more games. No more running. Just us, finding out if this thing between us is real or if it's just six years of unfinished business that needs to be put to rest."
"And if I don't come?"
"Then I'll have my answer."
I step back. Give him space. The decision has to be his. I've laid my cards on the table. Now it's up to him to decide if he wants to play.
"Think about it," I say, and turn to go back inside.
His voice stops me at the door. "Asher."
I look back.
He's still standing at the railing, silhouetted against the dying light. His expression is unreadable. But his voice, when he speaks, is rough. Raw.
"Leave your door unlocked."
I don't smile. Don't gloat. Just nod once and head inside.
The kitchen is empty when I pass through. Everyone's scattered to their corners of the farmhouse, preparing for tomorrow, getting what rest they can before the real work begins.
I climb the stairs to my room, strip off my shirt, and stretch out on the bed. The mattress is old, springs creaking under my weight. The ceiling has a water stain in the corner that looks vaguely like a skull. Appropriate, given the company I'm keeping.
Leave your door unlocked.
It's not a yes. But it's not a no either. It's Jinx Harrison, control freak extraordinaire, admitting that he might show up. That he might want this as much as I do.
I fold my arms behind my head and wait.
The house settles into night sounds. Pipes groaning, wood creaking, the distant murmur of conversation from somewhere downstairs. Jagger and Jace, probably, going over the mission one more time. They're meticulous, those two. Every detail planned, every contingency accounted for.
I'm not like that. I've never had the luxury of planning. In the pits, you learned to react. To read your opponent in the first three seconds and adjust on the fly. Plans were for people who had time. I had fists and instinct and the bone-deep certainty that hesitation meant death.
Jinx is the same. I saw it in the way he fought today. All instinct, all reaction, no thought between the impulse and the action. We're two sides of the same coin. Violence given form.
The question is whether we can be anything else.
Midnight comes and goes. The house goes quiet.
At half past, I hear footsteps in the hall. Heavy. Deliberate. The tread of a big man trying not to wake anyone, and failing.
They stop outside my door.
A long pause. Long enough that I start to think he's changed his mind, that he's going to turn around and walk away. My heart pounds against my ribs. Steady. Waiting.
Then the handle turns.
And he steps into my room.