Page 109 of Jagger's Remorse
The line goes dead.
"Who was it?" Scarlett asks.
"Three Devils. Admitted they partnered with Sombra."
"We already knew that, those dumb fucks!" She processes this with the part of her brain that's always working, always planning. "We need to call myTioEduardo. Update him on?—"
"We need to get you stable first. Everything else can wait."
"But—"
"Everything. Else. Can. Wait."
She must see something in my face because she stops arguing.
"Okay," she says quietly. "But Jagger? When I'm better? We burn them all to the fucking ground."
"Every last one."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She closes her eyes, satisfied.
Around us, the cleanup continues. Brothers cleaning up around the place, old ladies tending wounded, prospects—the loyal ones—scrubbing blood from concrete.
The party's over.
The war's just beginning.
But looking at her—my old lady, my partner, my perfectly violent match—I know we'll survive.
We've come too far to fall now. Bled too much to break.
And tomorrow, when she's stronger, we'll show the Three Devils and Sombra and anyone else stupid enough to test us exactly what happens when you come for the Iron Veins.
When you come for what's mine.
The answer is simple: You die screaming.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Scarlett
I wake to pain and the smell of leather and whiskey—Jagger's scent.
My eyes crack open, taking in the familiar walls of his room.
Our room.
Afternoon light filters through the blinds, casting bars across the bed.
How long have I been out?
"Three days," Jagger's voice comes from beside me, like he read my mind. "Doc kept you under while the worst of it healed."
I turn my head—carefully—to find him in his usual chair.
