36. Chapter 36
Amassive explosion rocked the lowest levels of the prison. The concrete floor beneath our feet shuddered violently, and the lights flickered once, twice, before plunging the corridor into a terrifying, strobe-lit hell of emergency crimson.
A split second later, the sound hit us. It wasn't just the lockdown sirens anymore.
It was a deafening, chaotic roar that rose from the belly of the prison.
Heavy iron cell doors, compromised by a systemic override, began to slam open one after another down the line.
Screams, cheers, and the feral, long-suppressed rage of hundreds of maximum-security inmates flooded the hallways.
"Riot!" a voice screamed over the comms, choked and frantic before static cut it off entirely. "They're out! Every block is open—"
The prison was tearing itself apart.
Within seconds, the corridor was flooded with orange jumpsuits.
Inmates poured out of their cells like a dam breaking, weapons crafted from cafeteria trays and rusted pipes gleaming under the pulsing red lights.
The thin line between order and total anarchy evaporated in the blink of an eye.
Guards were overwhelmed, pushed to the ground, or forced to retreat into the secure sub-stations.
The Jester didn't flinch. If anything, the unfolding chaos around us only seemed to feed him.
His grip on my waist tightened until my ribs ached, his body heat radiating against my back as he used my rigid, terrified form as a physical shield against the tide of rioting criminals.
Several inmates lunged toward us, seeking a piece of the uniform I wore.
But the moment their eyes landed on the figure holding the shiv to my throat, they froze.
The Jester glared them down with a lethal, promise of violence that needed no words.
They scattered, choosing easier targets.
As he dragged me deeper into the smoke and the shouting, his lips brushed against the shell of my ear.
"Shh, it's okay, sweetface. Nobody is going to hurt you. I've got you. Just be a good girl and play the part. After all, life is nothing more than a series of roles, and sugar plum, this is your grandest performance yet
A dry, broken sob caught in my chest, tearing through my throat. The gentleness of his words was a fresh blade in my heart.
Just play the part.
"You played your part pretty damn well too," I snarled through gritted teeth. "You tricked me."
A low, dark chuckle vibrated through his chest against my shoulder. "A minor detail, sweetface. Can you really blame me for doing what it takes? I wasn't about to leave you behind. You're coming with me, where you belong."
"Forgive me if that's a little hard to fathom," I spat, "considering you're currently using my body as a human shield."
His thumb stroked along my hip in a casual, maddeningly soft gesture, totally indifferent to the violence erupting around us.
"Oh, details, details," he cooed. "I'd tear this whole damn block down before I let anyone lay a finger on a single pretty hair on your head, Elara."
"Fuck you," I rasped, the words laced with poison as I strained against his unbreakable hold. "Fuck you, you psychotic piece of shit."
A hot tear slipped down my cheek, tracing a path through the dust and the single bead of blood he had drawn from my neck.
I felt completely, utterly fooled. The humiliation was a suffocating weight in my lungs.
Even now, while holding a knife to my throat in the middle of a prison riot, he was spinning his web, trying to make me believe that there was some twisted form of protection in his violence.
I had fallen for every single trick.
I had fallen for the way his hands felt on my skin, the way he whispered my name like I was the only person who mattered in this entire godforsaken prison.
I had let myself believe that a monster could crave me, when in reality, he just craved the keys hanging from my belt.
I was nothing but a tool to him—a means to an escape.
"You liar," I choked out, the words muffled by the roar of the riot, but he heard me.
His grip shifted, pulling me tighter against his chest as we pushed through the heavy double doors leading toward the loading docks outside.
"Oh, don't be sad, doll. Things are going to look a lot different now, but trust me... they’re going to be much better."
Before I could even process the words, he pressed a firm, lingering kiss to my cheek—a possessive, terrifying brand of affection in the middle of absolute anarchy.
The sheer audacity of it ignited a spark of pure rage through my terror.
With a desperate surge of strength, I thrusted my elbows against his chest and shoved him away, breaking his hold just enough to stagger back into the freezing November air.
But he was too fast, the Jester seizing me back into his hold.
The air out here was freezing, a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the burning cell blocks.
Snowflakes swirled through the dark air, illuminated by the sweeping spotlights of the watchtowers.
But the towers were silent. The guards inside likely overwhelmed or pinned down by the chaos below.
The chain-link fences yawned open, their heavy locks sheared through from the inside.
An unmarked black van waited idling near the edge of the tarmac, its headlights cutting through the blinding flurries of snow. The side door slid open, revealing a masked figure in the driver's seat, shouting over the roar of the engine.
"Get in! We have to go now! The state police are already en route!"
"Move, Elara!" the Jester barked, his calm facade cracking for the first time as he tried hauling me toward the open door of the vehicle.
But something inside me snapped.
The despair, the heartbreak, and the absolute humiliation turned into a desperate, white-hot rage.
If I got into that van, I would never come back.
I wouldn't just be a disgraced cleaner of Blackthorne; I would be his pet, his captive, a piece of stolen property hidden away in whatever dark corner of the world he commanded.
I would rather die on the cold concrete of Blackthorne than let him win.
I threw my weight backward, digging the heels of my boots into the icy slush on the ground.
"No!" I screamed, wrestling against his grip with everything I had left.
The Jester hissed in frustration, the shiv slipping from my throat as he struggled to maintain his hold on my twisting, fighting form. He was incredibly strong, his fingers digging like iron claws into my uniform, dragging me inches closer to the idling van despite my resistance.
"Stop fighting the punchline, doll! The show is just getting started. YOU. BELONG. TO. ME."
"I am not your goddamn doll!" I shrieked, driving my elbow back into his ribs with every ounce of strength I possessed.
The blow landed with a dull thud. The Jester grunted, his footing slipping on a patch of black ice, and for a split second, his hold on my chest loosened.
"Hart! Get down!"
Through the swirling snow, a lone figure emerged from the shadows of the loading dock doors.
It was Tobias, his face hardened by a decade of dealing with the worst humanity had to offer. He was breathing heavily, a deep gash bleeding freely over his temple, but his arms were rock-steady as he raised his standard-issue shotgun.
Leveling the barrel directly at the Jester’s chest.
"Stay away from her, inmate! Now!" Tobias roared, his finger tightening on the trigger. He wasn't Warren or Cooper; he wouldn't hesitate to pull it.
Even if it meant risking the crossfire.
The Jester froze. His dark eyes darted from the barrel of the shotgun to the driver of the van, who was already revving the engine. He glanced at me, the realization flashing through his wicked, calculating mind.
He had lost.
The timing was gone. The window of opportunity was shrinking to nothing. If he spent another five seconds trying to force me into that van, Tobias would blow him away, or the sirens echoing in the distance would trap him here forever.
Slowly, he lowered the shiv.
The terrifying, manic tension in his posture melted away, replaced by that familiar, smooth, predatory grace.
He released my jacket, stepping back toward the open door of the van.
But before he climbed inside, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that felt like a brand burning directly into my skin.
A slow, knowing smile stretched across his lips.
"I'll see you soon, doll," he murmured, his voice a low, chilling promise that cut right through the freezing wind. "And don't bother hiding because no matter where you go, I'll find you."
With a fluid motion, he vaulted into the back of the van.
The side door slammed shut, and the vehicle tore out of the courtyard, its tires spinning in the slush before catching traction and disappearing into the blinding white of the early November snow.
The moment the taillights vanished, my knees gave out.
I collapsed, my hands shaking so violently I couldn't even push myself up.
The snow fell softly around me, melting against my hot, tear-stained cheeks.
Tobias rushed forward, his heavy boots crunching in the ice as he dropped his weapon and knelt beside me, throwing a heavy arm around my shoulders to pull me up.
"Hart! Look at me. Did he hurt you?" he asked frantically, his rough hands checking my neck, wiping away the small smear of blood.
I couldn't answer him. I couldn't even form a coherent thought. I just sat there in the slush, staring out at the empty gates where the van had disappeared, the echoes of the Jester's final words ringing in my ears like a death sentence.
The alarms continued to wail into the freezing night, but inside my chest, everything had gone numb.
I'll see you soon, doll.