The concrete jungle
Scarlett
After receiving an unexpected email from my employer informing me that they had placed me on a two-week mental health leave due to concerns about my well-being—particularly with the anniversary of everything approaching—I decided to take a trip to Bridgewater to visit my father.
The email left me unsettled, preoccupying my thoughts throughout the drive. For the first time, Blade and the others didn’t occupy my mind. I ignored Michael and Kellin's calls and quietly slipped out of the church, leaving Hunter peacefully asleep in my bed. The haunting memories of the previous night, when he had violated me with a femur bone, lingered in my mind. The guys had always engaged in twisted games, includingthe time they made me come with Shawn's severed fingers, but what Hunter did felt far more sinister.
I shuddered at the recollection as the wipers swept back and forth across the windshield, clearing the relentless rain just enough for me to see the brake lights ahead as I approached the prison gates. My palms nearly slipped from the steering wheel, slick with sweat, as my nerves soared to an all-time high. With the date drawing closer, I felt something dark and malevolent within me urging me to break free—imploring me to unleash it. At this point, I might just surrender and let chaos reign.
This was my second chance at a life I never wanted—a life rife with misery, pain, and disappointment. When the guys died, a part of me longed for death too, but people couldn’t just leave well enough alone. I didn’t want to be saved; I didn’t want to be resurrected. I had found a twisted sense of peace in the drugs that were slowly failing my organs. I was content to fade away among the ones I loved. But that wasn’t to be, and now it was time to make everyone regret allowing me to survive.
After going through security, I found myself in a different room than before. I took a seat at a long, rectangular table in another cold, uncomfortable chair—despite the unpleasantness, I was accustomed to it all. I fidgeted with my hands, straining to hear the familiar clinking of shackles and the buzzing of the prison doors opening from the operating room.
Moments later, my father was brought in, his face sporting a fresh shiner and a wicked grin playing on his lips. A shiver coursed through me as a new guard cuffed him to the table, staring me down intensely as he made his way to the exit, never once breaking his gaze. Something felt off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Once I sensed that we were as alone as we could be, I leaned in and whispered to my father, letting him know that phase one was complete. He was already aware, his expression remainingunchanged. He stared deeply into my eyes as if trying to convey a message without words—an understanding that I was expected to grasp. Unfortunately, I did understand, and it pertained to phase two.
"You look well, darling," he said softly, his tone deliberately low to avoid drawing attention to our exchange, even though we both knew we were being watched by every camera in the room.
"I’ve been working on myself since we last met," I replied, and it wasn’t a lie.
His grin widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Good. Improvement is vital for what lies ahead. I need you to be sharp, focused."
I nodded, recalling the meticulous planning we had done. Everything needed to fall into place flawlessly. "And the others? Are they ready?" The question lingered in the air, heavy with implications.
"Ready and waiting. They understand the stakes, just as you do. We've been preparing for this day, and trust me, when the time comes, chaos will be our ally."
His excitement was palpable, a stark contrast to the heaviness in the pit of my stomach. I sat back in the chair, the cold metal digging into my skin, almost grounding me.
"You think we can pull it off? The timing is so delicate. With all the additional security since the incident…” My voice trailed off, drifting into the shadow of fear that occasionally flickered through my mind.
His expression shifted, and steel replaced the warmth. "We are not to be dissuaded by fleeting fears. Remember, fear is a tool, not a hindrance. They have conditioned you to be afraid, to conform, but that ends now. Embrace the chaos. It will propel us. Think of what we can achieve together."
Deep down, I wanted that—a devastating rebirth fueled by vengeance, pain, and blood. It thrummed through my veins likea song I knew all too well. My fingers tightened around the edge of the table as a spark of adrenaline ignited, urging me to prepare for the storm that was coming.
"I did what you asked," I reminded him, my voice steadier now, fueled by the thrill of our shared ambition. "I planted the seeds. They trust me, and with everything we’ve gone through, my betrayal will hurt them the most."
He leaned in closer, a conspiratorial smirk painting his features. "That’s the spirit! They think you’re broken, but you’ve merely been training for this very moment. When the time comes, you will not just take back control; you will shatter any hope left standing."
As I locked my gaze with his, I felt a rush of exhilaration, eclipsing the terror of what we were about to do. The memories of Blade and the others flooded back, and all the anger that had laid dormant inside me surged forth like a tidal wave.
"And when it’s over," I whispered, my heart pounding with hardened resolve, "everyone will pay."
"Exactly. The line has been cast. We’ll claim our legacy, but we need patience. Stay focused. Remember: fear is the shadow that confines the weak, but we shall wield it to destroy."
The guard entered the room then, signaling our fragmented moment to an end. My father’s demeanor switched instantly from conspirator to quiet inmate, the sparkle of mischief replaced by shadows of his more restrained, familiar self. I could feel his eyes lingering on me as he was escorted away, a potent reminder: this was my reality.
Alone once more, I leaned my forehead against the table, close to surrendering to the weight of darkness wrapping around my heart. But that was not my intention. I could hear their laughter, see their faces blinking in and out of memory like nightmares surfacing.
The clock was ticking down, and with each beat, the ground beneath me solidified. I would emerge not just as a product of my twisted upbringing but as the reason for their demise. Everything was lining up—their trust, my façade, each moment calculated—an elaborate act of revenge waiting to be unleashed.
In that moment, fury transformed into a cold, exhilarating sense of joy. Yes, chaos reigned, and I finally felt alive. With a slow, determined breath, I left the room behind, mentally gearing up for the unsettling yet enticing journey that lay ahead. The darkness within me was awake—and it would not rest until everything I once loved lay in ruins.
I thought about what my father wanted me to do. I thought about it day in and day out. I never once took it lightly. He was asking me to not only kill the people in his way from getting his freedom, but also the last remaining family members whose blood was a match to the blood flowing through my veins. I was told I had no family. I grew up believing it was only my father and I, and he was doing life in prison.
But I was played, and I felt like a fucking fool when I found out. I had aunts and uncles, even cousins that I never knew about. I didn't even know their names. But I guess not knowing them would make carrying out my father's plan tolerable. He wanted everyone gone by the time he escaped, and I would quite often wonder why that was. But Gerald was my father, and Inever questioned him even though I knew what he was capable of.
After leaving the prison, I went back to the church, only to find Hunter gone. I was alone—alone with the skulls on my mantle who I desperately needed to talk to. I didn't bother shedding my wet clothes or my boots. I went right for the chapel and sat down in front of my shrine for the guys, taking a few minutes to hold each skull as I talked aloud to them, venting, wishing they were here.
