Page 32 of Jagger's Remorse
And then she does something unforgivable.
She comes.
Not quietly.
Not discreetly.
She comes like a scream, like a victory cry, like a woman claiming her throne.
She comes while staring directly at Joaquin.
Then at Squirrel.
Then at every single man in the room.
Making sure they see.
Making sure they know.
She's not broken.
She's not beaten.
She's winning.
I follow her over, unable to stop.
Unable to do anything but empty myself into her while she smiles that terrible smile.
"Interesting." Joaquin's voice cuts through the haze. "She enjoys it."
"She's twisted," I manage, tucking myself away. "Survived Los Zetas by learning to like pain."
"Useful." He nods to his men. "We'll be back in three days for a progress report. Have something concrete, or we take her to auction."
They file out, leaving us in ruins.
Scarlett straightens her clothes, casual as Sunday morning.
"Well," she says to the room at large, "that was fun."
Digger laughs, nervous and high. "Fuck me, VP. Your bitch is crazier than you are."
"Get out," I growl.
"But—"
"All of you. Get. Out."
They scramble to obey.
Even Squirrel knows when to give space.
Soon, it's just us and the echo of what happened.
"You okay?" I ask.
She laughs, that broken glass sound.
