Page 50 of Jax

A wrapper crinkles as something lands next to me. I feel for it with my hands and bring it to my face.

“A granola bar,” she tells me. “It might be expired.”

Like I give a fuck.

I peel the wrapper down but glance at her curiously. We’re usually a selfish bunch. When one of us is being targeted by Psycho, we all look the other way so he doesn’t turn on us next. We’ve really been indoctrinated into his words being law. He molded us into this group that would do anything for him, no matter how callous the result is toward someone else.

“I need out of here,” Lyla finally admits as I take my first bite. “I’ve needed it for a long time. I’ve been trying to feel you out for a year now, but you always seemed to be riding high on Psycho’s crazy train so I never said anything.” She sighs. “I hope I’m not wrong by trusting you now but you were out for a while. Rumors started that you wanted out for good.”

It’s in my nature to be wary of everyone. Even though I’m basically in a cell with her on the outside, I’m wondering what her angle is. However, if I want out of this, I probably have to trust some people. What’s the worst that could happen? If she’s a spy for Psycho, he already told me he’s going to kill me so how much worse could it get? “I want out,” I say, the truth filling the air like it’s a bright light yet it doesn’t change the setting one bit. Everything is as dark as it was until I realize the brightness is coming from inside me. It’s almost the first time that I’ve admitted those words to myself without any caveats. “I’m ready.”

“He won’t let you leave. He’s waiting for your boy to get in touch with him. Will he?”

“Yes,” I croak out. I’m sure Jax will. He came back here to get me once, and we’ve made large strides since then. He won’t let me stay here, especially when Psycho basically kidnapped me in front of him. Then again, I don’t know how badly the car clipped him. He could still be lying by the side of the road for all I know.

I shake my head. The last thing I need to think about is Jax being hurt. He’s the strongest person I know. He’ll come for me.

“I hope he has an army.”

I take another slow bite of the granola bar. He doesn’t want to utilize Leenie’s brother even though the Dragons might be the only weapon we have to stop Psycho. They’re certainly big enough with a bad reputation but I don’t know anything about this group. I knew everything about the Crew but the Dragons are a completely different territory. “I don’t know if he does,” I say honestly.

“Just promise me one thing, Sadie. If you get out, you take me with you. You’re the only reason why I’m here, after all.”

Dread fills me. How many more people in this damn building could say the same thing to me? I helped Psycho recruit almost everybody. In the beginning, it was only the two of us and a couple more. We kept growing and growing until it felt as if we had an empire. It took too long to realize Psycho was turning us into his own personal theft squad while I thought we were growing a family, one I hadn’t had since I left the Heights.

“I’m not even going to bother to apologize,” I tell her. “There’s nothing I can say that will make up for what I did but I will get you out. I have no idea how but I will.”

Her grunt is followed by silence. A few moments later, she leaves. Then, it’s just me in the room again. All by myself. Hoping and dreading for the moment Jax will come for me.

So much for not wanting to drag him into my shit again.

22

Days pass, and no Jax. It’s almost impossible to tell time in a dark room with no windows, but I estimate at least three days have come and gone. I’m starting to wonder if he actually will come for me like I thought. Maybe I thoroughly pissed him off this time. Maybe when he found me attempting to return to Psycho, he gave up on me.

The inky black thoughts take over my brain, turning this small room into a literal jail of the mind and body.

Psycho tortures me with his presence every day. His questions range from why I chose to abandon him to how it feels to be a whore. Looking at him now, I don’t know how I ever thought he was anything close to the boy who loved me no matter what. Jax loved me through everything, whether he realized it or not.

Psycho isn’t capable of such an emotion. All he wants is power…and glory.

The door bangs against the hinges, and I sit straight up, blinking awake. The smell of my own urine and shit has taken over the room. The brief reprieve from the door opening has me taking in gulps of air while Psycho wrinkles his nose in disgust. As if I have another choice but to relieve myself.

“Get up,” he demands.

I stand on shaky feet. The last bit of food I had was yesterday, and it was only because Lyla snuck it in for me. Psycho has left me in here to rot. He doesn’t give a shit whether I make it through this or not. He hasn’t brought me food or water. The only thing he’s brought me is his anger and disgust about how I let him down. Why I’m making him do this to me.

I don’t move as quickly as he wants me to, so he stomps forward and grabs my shirt. I’m so disoriented that I start to fall but his grip keeps me from crashing to the floor. He doesn’t wait for me to get my bearings again, he drags me across the concrete and deposits me in the bathroom. “You smell like shit.”

“It’s Psycho repellent,” I deadpan. Now that I’ve stopped caring what happens to me, the barbs come one after the other. He doesn’t have control of me anymore.

He hits me upside the head. Agony rips through me, making my vision narrow to a point for a moment. He grabs my jaw and makes me look at him. “I don’t enjoy you like this.” The bite of his fingers makes pain flare but I’ll be damned if I let him know he’s hurting me. Not anymore. “You seem to forget who you owe everything to.”

I did. I did for a very long time but I know who I owe everything to now, and it was never Psycho.

“Take off those clothes and shower, you dirty slut.”

The cracked mirror on the wall shows off what bad shape I’m in. Bruises mar my face from the times when Psycho couldn’t hold back his temper. I have marks in every stage of healing. Fresh, red marks on my chin from where he just gripped me. Ugly purple all the way to yellow as if my face is a canvas of pain and torment. “Why?” I croak out. He has to have a reason for this. Last time, it was because he was done teaching me a lesson but for some reason, I don’t think that’s what this is.

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