Chapter 24 #2
“Three days,” Greyson answered. “In three days, we stand on the execution platform and take the Vow before all of New Found Haven.” His gaze moved to Jameson. “Every screen in every ring will broadcast it. The Daggermouth and the Executioner, united in holy matrimony.”
Jameson’s laugh was harsh, disbelieving. “That will never happen. The rings know what she did. The rebels are fighting with her, for her, for what happened in the prison.”
Shadera turned to him, confusion rippling through her. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything in that prison except get people killed.”
Jameson turned toward her, his brow furrowing. “You really don’t know?” He shook his head. “Your assassination attempt has spread through the rings like wildfire.”
Her throat constricted.
“Figures the Heart wouldn’t let you see what’s happening in the rings,” Jameson spat toward Greyson.
“The rebels are singing the anthem, everyone in the rings.” His voice softened with something like pride.
“It’s become the song of the rebellion. They’re looking to you as a symbol, Shade.
The Daggermouth that took a stand against the Heart. ”
“I don’t want that,” she said immediately, the words tearing from her throat. “I don’t want to be a symbol. I just want to go home.”
She wasn’t a fucking symbol. She was a mercenary, a killer for hire—not a hero, not a leader, not some face of a failing rebellion.
“I can’t let you leave,” Greyson said, his voice holding a twinge of apology.
“Can’t or won’t?” Jameson challenged, taking a step closer to Greyson. “Because from where I’m standing, this looks like a man who enjoys having a prisoner to play with.”
Shadera saw Greyson’s shoulders tense, saw his hands finally form fists at his sides. When he spoke again, his voice had lost all warmth.
“I can’t.” The words seemed to cost Greyson something, dragged from somewhere deep and unwilling. “If she leaves, if she doesn’t take the Vow, people die. People I—” He stopped, recalibrating. “People who have done nothing to deserve it.”
“Who?” Jameson demanded.
“Callum. My sister.” Greyson’s eyes found Shadera’s again. “You know they’re innocent in this.”
“No one in the Heart is innocent,” Shadera hissed despite the images rising in the back of her mind, the knowledge of the President’s brutality.
“So you’ll keep her prisoner to protect them?” Jameson’s voice dripped with contempt.
“Yes.” Greyson didn’t flinch from the accusation. “I will keep her to protect them. I will do whatever is necessary to keep them alive.” A pause, weighted with something unspoken. “Why don’t you tell him what will happen to him and the rings if you leave?”
The question landed like a grenade between them. Jameson went still, his eyes finding Shadera’s with a question in them.
“He knows,” she said quietly. “Maximus has been watching you. He knows your location, the rebel headquarters, the clinics.” The words tasted like poison on her tongue. “He’s had drones following you since the moment I left. He has bombs, Jay. If I don’t comply, he’ll drop them. Starting with you.”
Something seemed to click in the expression that formed on Jameson’s face, like the last piece of some puzzle he’d been missing suddenly fell into place.
The look quickly shifted to fury. “And you believe him? You think the Heart would risk bombing the rings? They need us. They need our labor, our—”
“He doesn’t care,” Shadera cut him off. “Maximus is losing control. He’d burn it all down to maintain power.”
The radio on Jameson’s belt crackled to life, Jaeger’s voice cutting through the tension. “Ghost, report. What’s your status? We’re running out of time.”
Greyson’s body went alert, his attention sharpening on the radio. “Where is he?” The question was a demand, edged with pure hatred. “Where is Jaeger?”
Jameson’s hand moved to the radio, silencing it. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
“Where is he?” Greyson repeated, taking another step forward until the two men were separated by inches.
“What’s the matter, Executioner?” Jameson taunted. “Afraid the Wolf might send another Daggermouth for you?”
Shadera sucked in a sharp breath of the charged air.
The holo-lamp flickered once, casting Greyson’s mask in sharp relief and for a moment, his mask seemed to grin in the blue-tinged light.
She’d never feared Greyson, not really—not even with all his threats and promises.
But now, seeing him and Jameson in the same space, seeing the way they measured each other, calculated weaknesses, planned attacks—now she was afraid.
Not of what Greyson might do to her, but of what these two men might do to each other.
“Tell me where he is,” Greyson insisted, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.
“Go fuck yourself,” Jameson replied, not backing down an inch.
Shadera moved before she could reconsider, pushing between the two men, her hands against their chests, forcing them apart.
“Stop it,” she barked. “Both of you.”
The radio crackled again, more urgent this time. “Ghost, extraction window closing. Thirty minutes until rendezvous.”
Jameson’s eyes dropped to hers. “We need to go. Now.”
Greyson’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with careful but immovable pressure. “She’s not going anywhere.”
“The hell she isn’t,” Jameson growled, reaching for her other arm.
Shadera found herself literally caught between them, each holding one of her arms, neither willing to release her. The situation would have been fucking absurd if it weren’t so dangerous.
“I’m not either of your fucking property,” she snapped at both of them, yanking her arms free. “I just need to fucking think.”
“There’s nothing to think about. We’re leaving,” Jameson argued.
“She’s right, I don’t own her,” Greyson started quietly, “but I do control what happens to you and your little rebellion.”
Shadera’s eyes shot to Greyson then flickered to Jameson. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Understanding dawned slowly in Jameson’s eyes, realization spreading across his features like a stain. Greyson pressed his advantage, ignoring her question.
“Who did you think was smuggling contraband into the rings with a Serel serial number?” he asked, his voice laced with dark amusement. “The medicine for your clinics, the vaccines for the children, the antibiotics that keep your people alive—where did you think they came from?”
Shadera’s eyes widened at the revelation, her body tensing, oxygen catching in her lungs. His words echoed in her head and suddenly became clear.
‘There are things I can do from this position that I couldn’t do from a grave.’
All this time. All this time he had been working both sides of the conflict, had been helping the rings.
Her mind began to spiral as she frantically put together the pieces, replayed everything he had ever said to her, everything she’d ever seen him do.
“You’re lying,” Jameson said, but there was uncertainty in his voice now.
“Am I?” Greyson countered. “The serial numbers all begin with SIG02. Serel Industries, my initial, second son. My personal division.”
Shadera watched Jameson’s posture shift as the truth sank in. She could almost see his mind racing as fast as hers, recalculating risks, reassessing the man before him.
“If you want that medicine to continue flowing into the rings,” Greyson continued, “you will leave now, without Shadera. According to Jaeger’s timeline, you have twenty minutes to get out of the Heart alive. I suggest you get moving.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Shadera looked between the two men, her mind reeling.
If what Greyson said was true, if he’d been sending medicine to the rings all this time, then he wasn’t entirely the monster Jameson believed him to be, that she’d believed him to be.
But he was still the Executioner. Still Maximus’s son.
“I’m staying,” she said finally, making the decision for Jameson so he wouldn’t feel the guilt of choosing the rings over her.
He would choose them, she knew that. Knew that at the end of the day, no matter how much he cared for her, he would not risk thousands of innocents just to keep her alive, now that he knew the consequences.
“We can’t risk the rings getting bombed.
They need the medicine. I’ll find another way out. ”
“With him?” Jameson asked incredulously. “With the fucking Executioner?”
Shadera glanced at Greyson, studying the rigid line of his shoulders, the way he stood perfectly still, waiting for her response. She turned back to Jameson.
“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice steadier than she felt. “You might not understand this or believe me because you haven’t seen the things I’ve seen. But we are both trapped in this. Greyson and I have to find a way out of this together if we want to save the most lives.”
Jameson was silent for a long moment, his face twisting with emotion. The clenched jaw, the furrow between his brows, the mix of anger and fear in his eyes. She knew his face better than she knew her own.
“Get out,” Jameson said finally, turning to Greyson. “I need a minute with her. Alone.”
Greyson’s posture stiffened. “Fuck no. I will—”
“Please,” Shadera interrupted, looking directly at him. “I won’t leave, but I need to say goodbye.”
She watched the internal struggle play out in Greyson’s body language—the tension in his shoulders, the slight tilt of his head as he considered. Finally, he nodded once, sharply.
“Three minutes,” he conceded, moving toward the door. “Then I’m coming back in, whether you’re done or not.”
Jameson watched Greyson exit before turning back to Shadera. For a moment, they stood frozen in the blue tinged light, the weight of everything unsaid pressing between them like a physical force. Shadera could see the raw emotion he let bleed free now—anger, fear, pain.
In one movement he closed the distance between them, reaching for her mask.