Chapter 9
Fetch
Jax
Something wet slaps my cheek, waking me up from an unplanned nap, later in the day than I prefer.
As I crack open an eye, I find Reaper's face inches from mine—his big eyes staring back at me with an intensity that pulls me from my sleep.
Sunlight spills through the open window behind him, casting a warm glow around him and marking the end of a day that felt like another uphill battle.
As my mind drifts, still heavy with weariness, Reaper affectionately licks my other cheek before whining and howling impatiently, demanding my attention.
I sit up and stretch, a shiver running down my spine as the autumn breeze dances through the window. With a playful grin, I grasp his face and scratch under his chin. He leans closer, his paws unforgiving as he steps anywhere just to reach me, showering my face with his slobbery kisses.
"I'm awake, Reaper. Just give me a minute and we'll head out for a walk," I assure him as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
His puppy dog eyes search mine, filled with a mix of excitement and yearning, as I grab a change of clothes and move towards the bathroom. I can still hear his soft whines echoing behind me, eagerly awaiting my return. But tonight, there's training to focus on.
Reaper has been my emotional support companion since I got out of prison, helping me manage my anxiety and fears.
I've been working with him on specific skills, and this evening I intend to put our hard work to the test. I've been working with him and teaching him to attack any man who so much looks at Scarlett the wrong way, and his bite is much worse than his bark.
From a young age, I had an emotional support dog by my side to guide me through life's battles.
They eased the haunting memories of my childhood, of the demands my father placed upon me—nightmares that faded only with the gentle comfort of a dog nearby.
After my release for killing my parents, I knew the first thing I needed was a dog.
And I found Reaper—a chocolate Rottweiler with piercing glacier-blue eyes like those of a husky.
As I pull my jeans up in front of the small mirror on the back of the bathroom door, I catch sight of the scars that map my body, evidence of the torment I've survived. Tattoos have sought to conceal some of those memories, but the sting of needles is a price I now avoid. Although ink covers much of me, the larger scars cry out for acknowledgment, and I can’t help but despise their presence.
I quickly slip on a fresh white t-shirt, its hem resting just above my pockets.
After smoothing it down, I slide my feet into a new pair of black Air Forces, and I grab my black zip-up hoodie from the hook.
Checking the pockets, I breathe a sigh of relief upon feeling the cool silk of my balaclava.
With a smirk at my reflection, I tuck it back into the pocket and throw on my sweatshirt, leaving the zipper undone.
As I open the bathroom door, I find Reaper lying right outside, his eyes gleaming under the bright glow of the LED lights.
He leaps to his feet as soon as I step back into my room, where music and laughter seep through the thin walls of the halfway house.
It’s not bad living here. It’s my first experience at a place like this, and I actually find it tolerable, especially since I know a few of the guys, making the atmosphere less awkward.
"Wanna go for a walk, Reap?" I ask as I grab his leash from the hook.
He sprints forward, his boundless puppy energy filling every corner of our small one-bedroom space.
Right now, I have no choice but to embrace it—getting rid of him is out of the question, especially now that he's responsive to every command.
Just as I bend down to clip the chain leash onto his studded collar, my bedroom door swings open, and Michael and Kell stroll in—completely surprising me.
"Where are you headed?" Michael asks, mirroring my own surprised expression as we lock eyes.
"I was just about to take Reaper for a walk," I reply, omitting the part about stopping by Scarlett’s to see her, and if Reaper's training has worked..
"Want us to tag along?" Kell asks quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the music blaring from the next room.
I hesitate. Fuck... If I say no, they'll think I want nothing to do with them. But if I say yes, I won’t be able to fully gauge what I’ve taught Reaper. Fuck it.
I shrug, my indifference feigned. "It’s up to you if you want to come. I’m leaving soon, so if you’re in, you better be ready to go."
With four of us vying for Scarlett’s attention, things can get complicated.
I’m still trying to decipher the dynamics—does she pick one of us based on how well we connect or after a certain number of times we fuck?
It's a peculiar situation, four diverse felons with secrets as complicated as our pasts, all focused on one girl.
"Alright, we're in," Michael says, shooting Kell an eager grin.
Kell shrugs, looking less enthusiastic but ultimately falling in line with the plan.
"Might as well," he mumbles, glancing down at Reaper, who's dancing with excitement, tail wagging so hard I fear it might break the fuck off.
I clip the leash onto Reaper's collar and watch as he wiggles around me, trying to master the art of controlling his enthusiasm.
"Let’s go, buddy," I say, stepping away from the door.
Reaper almost pulls me off my feet as we head down the hallway, the echoes of indecipherable conversations and laughter fading behind us.
The door creaks open as we step outside.
The evening air is cool, and it feels refreshing on my skin.
Reaper pulls me forward, clearly understanding that walk time translates to playtime—a time for him to explore, sniff out every new scent, and stretch his legs.
"Guess we’ll be training him to behave around Scarlett all together now," Michael quips, jogging to catch up as we walk along the tree-lined street that runs alongside the halfway house. He has always been the lighthearted type, finding humor even in the strangest situations.
"Or he’ll be practicing his 'attack' on all of us if we don’t keep a handle on him," I shoot back, keeping an eye on Reaper as he sniffs at a pile of leaves, clearly contemplating whether he should roll around in them.
Kell, trailing a little behind us, is quiet.
I can't help but feel like he seems out of place. Maybe it’s because he’s more reserved, or maybe he’s just naturally suspicious of the group dynamic.
Something tells me he wasn't the type who surrounded himself with others, at least not before.
This journey through prison and recovery and the nuances of friendships feels foreign to him.
"How's it gone with Scarlett today?" Michael breaks the silence with an expectant glance.
"It's been... okay," I admit, struggling to not let the tension of the situation hang heavily in the air. "She’s a hard nut to crack, but I think she might count on all of us to show her that there’s a way out."
Kell nods, finally breaking his silence, "She needs to feel like she canbtrust us." His quiet voice carries an unexpected weight. "We’ve all got our demons, and the last thing we should do is let them chase her."
I nod at that. That much I can agree on.
The pain of our pasts is still fresh, but it’s a common bond—a shared struggle.
Walking down this block, beneath the fading evening light, it's as if I can see disappearing shadows of who we were before and who we hope to become.
Reaper unexpectedly pulls us off course, chasing after a squirrel that darts across our path, luckily in the direction where Scarlett is. But she isn't alone.
"Come back, Reaper!" I shout, jerking the leash to regain control over my hyperactive companion. He freezes mid-chase, the leash stretching taut for a moment before losing interest and bounding back to my side.
Imitating the excited bark of the dog, Michael laughs, "You might need to show him who's boss."
"Believe me, I’m on it," I retort, a smirk pulling at my lips. "You guys don't know what this little guy is capable of. By the end of this, he’ll be the one pulling you all up to get your feet wet."
“Right, getting dragged by a rottweiler,” Kellin chuckles, surprising me with the lightness in his tone. It feels good to see him break that shell, even if it’s just a little bit.
We stop a ways back, making sure Scarlett and the guy walking behind her don't see us, wondering who the fuck it is and where the fuck she's going.
Michael looks livid. Kell looks like he's about to charge over there.
Looking down at Reaper, drool hangs in thick strings from the corners of his mouth, his sharp, white teeth showing as a low growl comes from his chest. The guys look down at him, and I smirk, ready to test all the training I've been doing with my pup.
"Wanna see what little old Reaper can do?" I ask, holding his leash tight and close to me as I begin to take small steps in the same direction as Scarlett.
"I'm ready and waiting," Kell spits impatiently, clearly disturbed by the sight of the man following Scarlett.
Luckily, she turns and takes a walk through the park, and the same shady man dressed in all black follows her. I know she knows he's behind her. She isn't stupid, and if I know her at all, I'd bet she's luring him deep into the park so she can kill him. But Reaper is going to beat her to it.