Chapter 35 Jonah
Jonah
Location: Underground Detention Site — Upper Tier
Time: Unknown
Idon’t remember when my hands stopped feeling like they belonged to me.
They’re there. I can see them. Bound above my head, fingers swollen and purple, nails split and cracked.
But they might as well be someone else’s.
The cold comes and goes now. The heat too. I stopped trying to track it after the third cycle when my body stopped reacting the way it used to.
That’s the worst part.
Not the pain.
The numbness.
They told me Ronan Pierce was dead early on. I didn’t believe them at first. Then weeks passed—months, maybe even years. No rescue. No chaos. No retaliation.
Just silence.
Silence makes liars sound convincing.
They told me Lena was dead, too.
That one hurt more than I expected. She was always there in the background—sharp-eyed, relentless, asking questions no one wanted answered.
If Ronan couldn’t save her…
What chance did any of us have?
The sound system crackles again.
Static.
Breathing.
I flinch so hard my shoulders scream.
“Please,” I whisper before I can stop myself. “Please don’t hurt them—”
The breathing turns into a sob.
A man begging.
Not me this time.
Somewhere else.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I can’t listen to this again.
I can’t.
A scream tears through the walls.
Longer than the others.
It doesn’t cut off.
It just… fades.
My chest tightens painfully.
That scream stays with me.
It crawls into my head and curls up there, heavy and suffocating.
I start shaking.
Not from cold.
From exhaustion.
From grief.
From the slow, creeping certainty that this is all there is now.
They come for me an hour later.
I know because the footsteps stop outside my cell.
The door opens.
Light floods in.
I squint, heart hammering, trying to summon the man I used to be—the one who followed Ronan Pierce into hell without hesitation.
But that man is so tired.
The guard doesn’t shout.
He doesn’t threaten.
He just says calmly, “It can stop.”
I laugh weakly. The sound surprises me. “You say that every time.”
He shakes his head. “No. This time is different.”
They lower my arms.
Just a little.
Relief crashes through me so hard I nearly sob.
“Talk,” he says. “Tell us what Pierce taught you. Routes. Contacts. Protocols.”
I hesitate.
And that’s all it takes.
Hope is a traitor.
My voice comes out hoarse, broken. “I don’t know where he is. I thought he was dead.”
The guard steps closer. “But you know how he thinks.”
Images flash behind my eyes—Ronan standing in the dark, voice steady. Hold the line. Don’t give them anything.
I open my mouth to repeat it.
Instead—
“I’ll tell you,” I whisper. I don’t plan on telling them anything important; I’ll make up a few things.
The words fall into the space between us like shattered glass.
Something inside me collapses instantly.
The guard smiles—not wide, not cruel.
Satisfied.
I start talking.
Not everything. Some stuff I make up. They don’t know I’m lying.
I don’t say names.
Just enough to stay alive another day.
Enough to not matter.
When they drag me back to my cell, my legs won’t hold me. I collapse against the wall, shaking violently.
The lights stay on.
The sound system stays silent.
That’s worse.
I press my forehead to the concrete and choke on the truth burning my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the emptiness. “I’m so sorry.” Even though I tell them nothing that matters, I still feel guilty.
Down the corridor, I hear a sound.
A chain rattling.
A voice—faint, furious, unmistakable.
“Jonah.”
My breath catches.
Someone knows. They think I told them everything. They don’t know it was nothing.
Someone heard.
And in that moment, the shame is worse than any punishment they ever gave me.
Because I didn’t just break, to them.
I endangered the only man who ever came back for us.
And somewhere above ground—if he’s alive.
Ronan Pierce is moving.
And I pray I didn’t make his job harder.