Page 54 of Yours on the Canvas

“Jackie!”

Dad.

My fingers clamp around the edge of the counter, as I force air into lungs.

“Open up, Jackie. We know you’re in there,” Ray calls out.

My hands start to shake hard, as I back away from the counter, My legs tremble so violently I nearly trip over a bar stool as I circle the kitchen island.

They found me.

Despite everything that Silas, CJ, and Deck put in place, they still found me. They had cracked PalMerc’s armour.

The lock clicks, the sound is soft, but it hits me like a gunshot, and bile rises in my throat as the heavy door swings open, revealing the two men I’ve spent my entire life running from, standing in the middle of my sanctuary.

I don’t understand. How the fuck did they get a key?

Silas had said his house was safe, that I was safe.

Ray steps in first, his sharp, cruel eyes sweeping over Silas’s high-end home with a look that’s equal parts disgust and appraisal. He’s dressed in a tailored suit that can’t hide the vicious, predatory way he carries himself; like he’s already decided everything in the room belongs to him.

Dad follows right behind him, broad-shouldered, blank-eyed, towering. Ray’s shadow. Ray’s enforcer. A man who never speaks, not even to his own son. And when he does, it’s only when Ray gives him permission.

“Look at you,” Ray says, spreading his arms like some proud patriarch visiting a wayward son. His smile is thin, poisonous. “Living in the lap of luxury. Fancy tech, expensive walls, everything a little runaway dog would want, Jackie.”

His gaze flicks to me, slow, deliberate, cutting. “You always did have a knack for finding someone to take care of you. Reminds me of your mother, always clinging to the wrong people.”

My teeth grind together so hard my jaw aches. I force my feet to stay planted, refusing to shrink back even though every instinct in me screams to run, hide, disappear.

“Get out.” My voice shakes, but I push the words out anyway. “Get the fuck out of my home.”

Ray chuckles, a dry, grating sound that crawls up my spine like something with legs. He takes a slow step forward, his polished shoes clicking against Silas’s floor like he’s marking his territory.

“Your home?” he repeats, amused. “Now, is that any way to talk to family?” He spreads his hands, mock-hurt dripping off him like oil.

“After everything we’ve done for you? Jack… we raised you, put a roof over your head when your mother couldn’t even keep her balance.”

The words hit like a slap, sharp and practiced, designed to make me fold.

Dad stands behind him, silent and blank-eyed, waiting for Ray’s next command like a loaded gun.

A hot rage flares behind my eyes, cutting straight through the terror.

“You killed her,” I whisper, the words trembling with decades of suppressed fury. “You threw her down those stairs because she tried to stop you from hurting me.”

Dad shifts behind Ray, his jaw tightening, his massive hands twitching at his sides. He doesn’t look at my face, he never does. He looks at me like a problem to be corrected, a piece of machinery that needs a kick to start working again.

That’s all he’s ever been. Ray’s weapon. Devoid of a soul. Devoid of a conscience.

Ray’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it sharpens.

“Accidents happen, boy,” Ray says smoothly, waving a dismissive hand like he’s brushing away dust. “Just like accidents can keep happening if you don’t start using that smart little brain of yours.”

He tilts his head, studying me with that practiced, oily calm that always made my skin crawl.

“You think this guy, your little hacker soldier you’ve latched onto, is going to protect you forever?” His smile sharpens. “People like that always fold when the real money talks.”

Ray steps closer, closing the distance with deliberate ease, his eyes locking onto mine with the kind of manipulation he’s spent decades perfecting.