Page 100 of Tricked By Jack
Nick’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. Not to stop me—just to keep me tethered. “Easy,” he mutters, though there’s nothing easy about the heat rolling off me.
“If you don’t remember or know anything, I have no use for you,” I state coldly.
He sobs, shudders, piss dribbling fresh down his leg. Useless. I want to tear him apart piece by piece.
“O-okay,” he screams. “I-I heard s-some talk about s-screaming. T-that’s all I know.”
“Screaming?” Nick steps closer, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck does that mean?”
The man’s teeth chatter around the word, spit and blood dribbling down his chin. “A… tunnel…”
Nick’s gaze flicks to mine, a dark glint beneath his lashes. His voice drops, flat with recognition. “Tunnel of Screams.”
The Sanctuary of Shadows. I taste the name before it forms, copper on the back of my tongue. That place where spectacle and silence share the same mask. Of course, Shelby would be there.
The man wheezes, chest buckling, ropes groaning as he thrashes weakly. Hope trembles in his eyes—hope that naming it might buy him mercy. I let him keep it for one beat, let it swell in him like air in a drowning lung.
Then I pull my knife out and straighten. “You did good.”
“T-thank y-you,” he sobs.
Before he can register what I’m doing, I stab the blade into his abdomen and drive it upward deep under his ribs, angling toward the heart. His body bows hard against the ropes, a shudder rattling through him.
The sound is less scream than strangled gasp, cut off by the wet gurgle of blood flooding his throat. His body spasms once, twice, then collapses inward on itself, eyes glassy, mouth open around the silence I’ve forced into him.
I hold the knife there until the heat leaves him, until I’m certain there’s nothing left to crawl back. Only then do I ease it free, slow and unhurried, the wet scrape of steel against bone louder than his dying breath. For a moment, I just watch him sag lifeless in the chair, a ruin of what passes for a man. Violence always ends in quiet.
“What do you want to do?” Nick asks, and I’m surprised he’s been able to keep pretending this long.
My big brother thrives on control, yet he’s let me run the show since I sliced my palm open in his home. I know it’s his way of showing he cares, that he supports me. But it’s not going to be enough to keep me around once Eve’s back with me.
“I want out,” I say, my tone grave.
“Out of what?” Nick asks, perplexed.
Together, we leave the basement of my house, and when he pulls his phone out, I know it’s to order a cleanup.
“Have them burn it down,” I say as I take the last stair. “The entire house. The property, whatever it takes.”
Nick stops short, glare sharp enough to cut. His voice roughens, half fury, half disbelief. “What the fuck’s gotten into you?” He stalks after me into the bathroom, the sound of his boots hard against the floor, as I wash my hands thoroughly.
As I watch the blood that isn’t mine curl down the drain in pink threads, I’m reminded of seeing mine and Eve’s blood. When I took care of both our cuts. I never admitted it, but I felt it even then—the truth that her pain and mine were already tied. That Eve Mortis is mine.
“Look, man, I know the timing is terrible,” I rasp, drying my hands and spinning back to Nick. “But I mean it. This isn’t me, and I don’t want it to be my life.”
Nick crosses his arms over his chest, his expression grim. “Tell me what you want, Jack.”
Exhaling audibly, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I just fucking did, but you’re not listening.”
He curses under his breath and follows me as I walk into the living room. I don’t have time for this shit. I should be out there, in the streets, looking for Eve.
But Nick’s not just going to let me brush him off, so now that I’ve opened this topic, I need to get through it as fast as possible. Too exhausted to continue pacing and standing, I flop down on the couch.
“The Knight legacy is yours, brother—”
“You can have it.” His jaw snaps tight, words cutting like teeth. “Take the fucking crown.”
I shake my head slowly. “That’s not the point. This isn’t about wanting what you have, it’s about wanting what I don’t have. Freedom. Choices.”
