Page 83 of F*ckboys

The cold air in my basement wraps around me like a shroud, chilling me to the bone. But it's not the temperature that causes my hands to tremble, it's the plan brewing in my mind. A plan that promises vengeance and justice. I glance over at Grave, who stands at the top of the stairs, his expression unreadable.

I survey the cold, concrete basement floor, my mind racing with ideas on how to transform it into a suitable prison for Harvey Maxwell. The air is damp and stale, a fitting atmosphere for the hell he'll soon inhabit.

"Harvey Maxwell will pay for what he did to Claudia," I say, my voice as steely as my resolve. "I'm going to keep him captive down here. Deprive him of anything but the most basic of necessities."

"Fallon," Grave warns, his gravelly voice full of concern. "You know the risks of holding a volatile man like Harvey Maxwell captive. He won't go down without a fight, and he has connections that could make our lives a living hell. Plus, it's literally just really hard to keep someone captive for any length of time."

"Did you see that woman back in my office?" I snap back, my eyes blazing. "Her mind was a cage. And I'm determined to put him in one, too." My heart races, pounding against my chest. The hurt and anger that had been simmering within me comes bubbling up to the surface. I can feel it coursing through my veins, fueling my determination.

"Fallon, I understand your need for revenge," Grave says, his tone softer now. "What Claudia's husband did to her was quite frankly terrifying and unforgivable. But you have to think this through. Is it worth risking everything?"

"Justice for Claudia is worth any risk," I declare, my jaw set stubbornly. I know there are consequences to my actions, but I refuse to let the man who destroyed Claudia's life walk away unpunished.

"Then I'll help you," Grave concedes, running a hand over his shiny bald head. "But we have to be smart about this. We can't afford any mistakes." Once again, Grave chooses his loyalty to me over fear. "Thank you, Grave," I whisper, relief washing over me. With him by my side, I know we can see this through to the end.

"Alright," I say, turning to Grave. "We need to make this place as secure as possible. Reinforce the door, install locks, soundproof the walls."

"Fallon, you're playing a dangerous game here," Grave warns, his eyes filled with concern. But I see something else in them too—a flicker of admiration for my determination. "But like I said, I'm with you. Remember, we have to be careful when getting oursupplies," he adds, crossing his arms. "We can't leave a trail for anyone to follow."

"Of course," I reply, taking a deep breath. "What do you suggest?"

"First, don't buy everything at once or from the same store," Grave advises, his voice low and cautious. "Spread your purchases out over a few days, and use cash whenever possible. Don't literally create a kit that screams 'I'm buying this stuff to kidnap, hold captive and potentially murder someone'. That's never good."

"Got it," I nod, mentally cataloging his words.

"Second, wear gloves when handling anything that could be traced back to you," he continues. "And for God's sake, don't talk about this plan to anyone, even if you think you can trust them. Even Mia."

"Understood," I say, feeling a chill run down my spine. This operation requires stealth and precision, and I can't afford to slip up. The candiru fish retribution was pretty full-on, but this is next level.

"Lastly," Grave says, his voice firm, "be prepared for the worst-case scenario. If things go south, you need an exit strategy."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I murmur, swallowing hard.

As we stand in the dim light of my basement, planning our dark revenge, I feel an odd sense of satisfaction. For too long, Harvey Maxwell has preyed on the vulnerable and innocent. But now, the hunter will become the hunted.

And justice, in all its merciless glory, will be served.

Over the next few days, I follow Grave's instructions to the letter. I venture out to various hardware stores, purchasing chains and padlocks, soundproofing materials, and otheressential items. Each time, I pay in cash and remain as inconspicuous as possible. I even don an assortment of wigs, hats and clothing I wouldn't normally wear in order to make my clandestine movements even harder to trace.

At night, I lay awake in bed, my mind churning with a mix of anticipation and dread. Revenge courses through my veins like a drug, fueling my resolve to see this through. But kidnapping a man is a huge deal, something I never previously would have pictured myself doing. Although I could say that about a fair few things lately, the weight of the consequences presses down on me, a constant reminder of the risk we're taking.

"Fallon," Grave's voice interrupts my thoughts early one evening as we stand in the near-finished basement prison. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"More than ever," I reply, my voice steely. This is for Claudia, I remind myself. For justice.

"Alright then," he says, his face etched with determination. "Let's finish this."

The sun beats down on my back as I haul bags of cement mix out of the truck. Sweat drips down my face, and I can feel the strain on my muscles as I carry the heavy load into the basement. This is the price of vengeance, I tell myself, gritting my teeth as I push through the pain.

"Fallon, you should take a break," Grave calls out from across the room. His face is streaked with dust, his hands raw and blistered from hours of work.

"Can't afford to," I reply, dumping the bags onto the floor of the basement. "Maxwell's still out there, and every second we waste is another chance for him to hurt someone else."

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you," he grumbles, returning to his task of assembling the metal bars that will soon become Harvey Maxwell's prison cell.

In between trips to the truck, I check my phone, only to find it silent and empty of notifications. It's been some time since I last heard from Aksel, and while I know he's busy dealing with his own demons, I can't help but worry about him. What if something's happened? What if he needs me and I'm not there? Not that he's ever needed me before. I guess I'm just feeling rejected, even though I'm the one who ran away.

"Fallon, can you hand me that wrench?" Grave asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

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