Page 82 of Yours on the Canvas

So I move.

Instinct takes over, replacing the paralysis of grief with the cold, calculated fury of a predator whose mate has been stolen.

I stride out of the bedroom, my boots echoing through the apartment, and head straight for the small leather messenger bag I always carry. I pull out my weapon of choice, my laptop, the tool I’ve used to build empires, breach firewalls, and tear down digital walls.

I slam it onto the kitchen island and flip the lid open. The screen flashes to life, casting a harsh glow across my face. My fingers hit the keyboard with violent precision. Code cascades down the display in a waterfall of emerald red, green and white.

I am yours, always.

Jack’s words echo in my skull, looping, mocking, tearing at me.

Don’t look for me.

“Watch me,” I mutter, my voice cracking, thick with a sob I refuse to let fall. “Try and stop me, Jack.”

I hit every system I’ve wired into this town; the cameras, the grid, the cell towers. I built all of it for one reason: Jack. I never thought I’d have to use it.

I’m tearing through every system I have, searching for anything; a phone ping, a camera angle, a single frame of his face in a car window.

I am hunting for my boy.

Every time my hand leaves the keyboard, my pinkie brushes the ring. It’s hot against my skin; sharp enough to sting, sharp enough to cut through the numbness trying to swallow me whole. It’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

Jack thought he could sacrifice himself to keep us safe. He thought I’d just sit here and let him walk into hell alone.

He doesn’t understand that without him, I am nothing. Without him, nothing makes sense. Without him, there’s just a dark, empty space where my heart used to beat.

“Deck,” I say, my eyes never leaving the screen, my fingers a blur. “Get Hale. Tell him.”

Deck flinches at the name. Hale; the fragile link holding our patchwork family together. The one person Jack was trying desperately to protect.

“Silas… if we pull the string on this, it’s war,” CJ warns quietly, stepping closer.

I stop typing for a fraction of a second, staring down at my hand. The ring burns against my skin, a blistering circle of fire. I remember the way Jack laughed this morning. The way his soft, chocolate-coloured eyes looked at me before I left. The way he kissed me awake, warm and gentle, trusting me with everything he had.

My jaw clenches so hard a muscle ticks in my cheek. I turn back to the screen, fingers striking the keys with deadly efficiency as a traffic camera pings a match.

“Then let it burn,” I whisper into the room. “Tell everyone; we’re going to war.”

21

Jack

The leather of the back seat is cold, smelling of cheap cologne and pine, but none of it compares to the ice running through my veins. The steady thrum of the tires on the highway feel like a countdown, each rotation pulling me further from the life I built, further from Silas, and deeper into the grave I dug for myself.

Ray sits in the passenger seat, turned just enough so I can feel his stare pressing into me. He wears the same smirk he used to give me when he cornered me in the hallway as a kid.

“Look at you, stray dog,” Ray murmurs, his voice low and rough. “Knew you’d come home eventually. They always do when the leash gets pulled.”

I keep my eyes on the floor mats, my hands balled into fists. I refuse to look at him. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break, even though my chest feels like it’s caving in. Every mile marker we pass is another nail in my coffin. We cross the border into the States with papers my dad clearly paid someone off for.

“He’s quiet,” my dad grunts from the driver’s seat.

He hasn’t looked at me once since he shoved me into the back seat. His tone is flat, dripping with the same disgust he’s carried for me since my mother died. He hates that I look like her. He hates that I ran.

“Let him pout, brother,” Ray laughs, reaching back to pat my knee.

I flinch away from his touch, and his grin widens. “He’ll learn his manners back at the house. Ain’t that right, boy? You’re home now. And we’ve got work to do.”