Page 142 of Jayson
That twitch. That swallow. That subtle lean away when I crouch in front of him.
Around us, the air is silent.
Kanyan’s by the controls, jaw clenched, pacing like a lion that’s learned patience. Scar leans against the back wall, arms folded, smoke curling from the cigarette burning between his fingers. Mason hasn’t said a word as he watched me put my plan in motion.
No one smiles. No one speaks. They’re waiting for me. Because they all know that this is where I end it.
Maddox licks his cracked lips. His voice is sandpaper. “Fucking lunatic. You’re making a big mistake. I’ll make sure you pay with your life.”
I crouch lower, just enough that he’s forced to look me in the eye. “No, Maddox. Mistakes are what little girls make when they trust men like you.”
His face doesn’t move, but something flickers beneath the surface—like glass cracking.
“You think this will make her whole again?” he rasps.
“No,” I say. “But it will sure as hell give her freedom. And give me peace.”
I stand. And I nod to Kanyan. He pulls the lever.
The winch groans, a mechanical shriek that cuts through the silence like a scream. The cage lifts from the ground, the chains rattling against metal supports.
Maddox’s breath shortens. “Wait. Wait—WAIT?—”
But we don’t wait. The cage drops. Water erupts upward as steel hits the surface, then swallows the cabin whole. The splash echoes off the concrete like thunder. Bubbles churn to the top, thick and fast.
Inside the cage, Maddox thrashes. The shape of him blurs beneath the water—arms jerking, knees slamming into the bars. The light above ripples. The silence deepens.
Twenty seconds. It’s more than enough time to panic, yet not enough to kill.
Kanyan reverses the lever. The winch churns again.
The cage rises, dripping, groaning.
Maddox gasps the second his head breaches the surface. He coughs, sputters, water gushing from his mouth like bile. His eyes are wide, rimmed in red, lips trembling around whatever pride he has left.
I step forward. Squat down again. Close. Calm. Cold.
“Tell me about Keira. Tell me what you did to her. To Riley.”
He coughs, chokes, spits. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?—”
I slam my fist into the bars. The cage rattles with the force. Maddox jerks back like he expects the cage to fall apart.
“You don’t lie to me,” I growl. “You don’t get a lawyer. You don’t get a last request. You get one choice, and one only—talk, or drown slowly.”
He opens his mouth. Then closes it. That’s the crack. The fracture I was waiting for.
“Again,” I say.
Kanyan doesn’t hesitate. The cage drops. This time we leave him under longer. Thirty seconds. Forty. He thrashes. Then slows. Then nothing. Just bubbles and silence.
Kanyan hauls the cage back up. The gears grind. Water streams down like rain off a coffin lid. Maddox is slumped forward now, coughing up lungfuls of pool water, veins bulging at his temple, body trembling.
I say her name. Softly. Like a phantom curse.
“Riley Kincaid.”
He doesn’t respond. So we drown him again. By the thirdcycle, he breaks. Not with a scream or a plea. But with a whimper.
