Page 38 of Jagger's Remorse
"Answer it," she orders. "Play your part. Mourn your dead. And remember—this is just day one."
I answer, Squirrel's voice exploding through the speaker.
But I keep my eyes on her.
On this creature, I created with mercy.
With a single moment of humanity I can't take back.
She mouths something while Squirrel rages about ambushes and blood.
Three words that chill me more than any threat:
Stations of the Cross.
The Catholic in me recognizes the reference.
Christ's path to crucifixion.
Fourteen stops on the way to death.
And I realize with cold certainty—she's not just here for revenge.
She's here for my complete destruction.
One station at a time.
The first station: Jesus is condemned to death.
And I've just been judged guilty.
CHAPTER FOUR
Scarlett
The burner phone vibrates against my ribs at 3 AM.
Tucked away in the tank top's built-in bra, right where baby-face slipped it during our planned collision.
Jagger's breathing stays even across the room.
Still in his chair.
Still watching.
Still pretending he's not completely fucked.
I slide the phone free, careful not to rattle the chain.
The display shows a butterfly emoji.
Diego.
My first teacher, my first mistake, my first kill that actually meant something.
I answer in barely a whisper. "You're early."
"Princesa, yourtíosgrow impatient." His voice hasn't changed—honey over broken glass. "The old man wants updates."
