Page 13 of Victorious: Part 3
I tighten my grip around her, unable to stop the rush of emotion that hits me. Her voice is soft now, less manic, more slurred, and there’s something about the way she says it that lodges deep in my chest and refuses to move.
I press a kiss to her temple, holding her close as we step out of that room and into whatever comes next.
“No, Clover,” I whisper against her skin. “I’m not a hero. I’m your husband.”
We reach the warehouse corridor, the midday air beginning to bleed through broken slats of steel as we close in on the exit. Clover rests in my arms, her body limp with exhaustion, her breath warm against my throat. She murmurs something incoherent, fingers still tangled in my chain, and presses another kiss to the side of my neck, like it’s the only thing grounding her.
The others close in behind us. Sin to my left, Mace, Nitro, and Koa forming a perimeter.
That’s when we see him.
A twitch. A groan. One of the Cartel soldiers slumped near a collapsed beam, half in shadow, his body riddled with shrapnel, but still breathing.
Sin doesn’t hesitate. He drops to a crouch, reaches into his gear, and pulls out a small capped syringe filled with amber fluid.
“What is that?” I ask, shifting Clover slightly to keep her covered but alert.
“Same shit they gave her,” Sin replies grimly, thumbing the cap off. “Truth serum. Figured we can return the favor.”
He plunges the needle into the man’s neck without fanfare, pressing down the plunger slowly until every last drop disappears.
The man groans, muscles twitching. He tries to roll, then slumps against the wall again, eyes fluttering open, unfocused and bloodshot.
“Give it a minute,” Sin mutters, rising.
I crouch down beside the Cartel soldier, my voice steady. “Start talking.”
The soldier laughs weakly. “You gonna offer me a cigarette first? Maybe some water?” His words slur at the edges, the drug already beginning to unwind his defenses.
“No,” Sin says behind me. “You don’t get kindness. You get questions. And if you want a painless death, I suggest you startcooperating.”
The man breathes heavily, swallowing hard. “I’m not gonna say nothing to youcabróns.”
Sin chuckles, tilting his head. “Sure, sure… and ah, who do you work for?”
The guy smiles brightly, his eyes glassing over, the serum clearly kicking in. “Oh, I know this one. Javier Rojas.” His eyes widen, and he sits taller. “Shit, no, I don’t.” He grimaces like he is trying to hold it in, but then he bursts out. “Ahhh, that was a lie. I do work for Javier, and he’s a real fucking asshole! Sheesh, that was actually really liberating to say.”
I smirk at Sin as he waves his hand through the air at me to take the lead now that this guy is plastered up and ready to roll. “So, Javier, we know he’s planning something big, right? Where is his main operation?”
The guy purses his lips like he is trying to fight the urge to talk, but then he spits it out, “It’s in the prison,” he murmurs, blinking slowly. “That’s where they keep them. Where itaaallhappens.”
Sin shifts closer, crouching again. “Keep going. What happens in the prison?”
The man gives a half laugh, his head tipping back against the wall. “You think the prison’s the bad part?” he mumbles. “The real shit! That’s buried beneath it. No cameras. No records. Atlas made sure of that.” Then he suddenly bursts out laughing, the serum hitting full force.
But that name slams into me like a blow.
Atlas?
“What did you say?” I ask, my voice quieter now, tighter as Clover continues to run her fingers all over like she’s tracing lines on my skin in her high state.
The man chuckles, unaware of the punch he just threw. “Atlas wasn’t just part of it, he helped design the whole damnsystem. Before he died, he laid the groundwork from the inside. Delivered the drugs. Used the adult birds to distribute them among the female inmates. Not just to get them hooked, but to keep them numb. Obedient. Easy to control.” He relaxes back against the wall, quietly chuckling to himself as he continues, “It turned them into walking wombs.”
I stare at him, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Atlas ran the prison drug trade?”
He nods, a lazy, floaty motion. “Yeah. He laid the groundwork. Rhonda picked up where he left off. She’s in charge now. She runs the lower levels. Schedules the visits.”
“What visits?” Sin demands.
