Page 24

My own voice surprises me, my words taking me back for a second. I don't know why I'm still talking about her. I drop the glass on the table, waiting for him to fill it. Maybe it's because of the memory that still plagues me, maybe it's because other than the girl from my childhood, I've never seen a girl fight—not the way she did. I don't know.

"The girl?" He pours a healthy amount, and I nod as I sip on the whiskey this time, a small hiss coming as I swallow.

"Reminded me of, well, y'know." I don't want to say her name, not out loud. The girl from the poker night, the one who tried to fight, too. Her name was Lola. It wasn't the first time she'd shown disobedience, either, but it was her downfall. All she did was get herself noticed more.

"Lola." He shakes his head, pouring himself another drink. "Vincent ruined that girl." His voice is sharp now as we both remember what happened to her after Vincent was through with her. He tortured her, kept her in the cells. His favourite method was waterboarding—and fuck, she suffered. She suffered so much.

"Do you know what happened to her? In the end?" I ask, knowing I'll get the answer I've gotten for years.

"No one does. Probably dead, though. You know how his temper gets."

"Whose temper?" Jarrod joins us back from the bar, soft drink in hand as he sits down. I shake my head, turning to face the stage. I hope this new girl doesn't share the same fate as Lola. I hope she learns quickly that the rules to live by here are simple: comply or die.

"We were just talking shit," Adrian says, nudging Jarrod in the arm. "How's your kid's drink treating you?"

"Very well, thanks. How's your destroyed liver treating you?" Jarrod banters back. Adrian clutches his chest, feigning a broken heart.

"Your words are cruel, Jar—you really are a Reigns."

"Ugh, don't make me sick. I'm anything but." Jarrod frowns, sipping his drink through a small green straw.

I always feel bad for Jarrod. We're stuck here, but he was born here. He has their blood in his veins; it's always confusing how different the brothers are. Vincent is cruel, heartless—literally the fucking devil in a Prada suit. Whilst Jarrod is kind, caring, and has a fucking heart bigger than anyone I've ever known. I never met their mother—apparently, she died just before I got here, and none of the Reigns children ever speak about her much. I'd heard from Adrian once during his drunken ramblings she'd been the first girl Archie ever stole, but it's never been confirmed. I wouldn't be surprised by it, though.

"That's me done." Adrian drains his drink, his eyes on the bar as Charlotte gets ready to go to her chambers. I nod, a small smirk on my lips. "Enjoy yourself, old man."

He laughs, rolling his eyes before giving me a wink. "Oh, I intend to—every last minute."

"I'm surprised you've got a minute left in you," Jarrod jabs at Adrian, nudging me in the ribs to laugh along with his joke. I shake my head, letting a small chuckle escape.

"And how many women have you touched, Jarrod? Not including Martha when she tucks you in at night?" Adrian taunts him back, chucking on his coat.

"Fuck you, Adrian, you know that isn't true! Melina made that up!" Jarrod raises his voice a little louder in defence.

"All right, princess, simmer down." I laugh, placing an arm on his as he tries to stand, ready to argue to the death with Adrian. "We'll see you at tomorrow's Order meeting." I nod at Adrian; his face drops a little as he nods, turning his back to us to walk away. My eyes stay on him until he moves through the double doors and I sit back, pouring another glass of whiskey.

"Today was a tough day," Jarrod says, his voice quiet now as he swirls his Coke around with his straw.

"It was just another day, Jarrod. Don't think too much about it," I mutter back, looking over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. Almost midnight, almost over.

"I just can't get the blonde girl out of my head, Jax—she was so young." His face is worn with exhaustion and guilt. I feel bad for him.

"There was nothing we could do, Jar. If we let her go, what do we say to Vincent?" I lean closer, hoping no one can hear us.

"We should have done something."

Yeah, we should have. We should have let them fucking go. I won't tell him I agree; I don't want to start giving him ideas for the future. Because at the end of the day, it's us against them. Fuck, it's us against the fucking world.

"And die for them? For girls we don't even know?" I scowl a little at the thought of anything happening to Jarrod. I don't give a fuck about myself, but I wouldn't let him lose his life. I'd never let that happen.

"I just wish things were different." He sighs, slumping back into his chair.

I wish it were, too. I wish we could leave, be far away from this fucking cage, but we can't. We'd survive a few years maybe, but he'd find us, he'd track us down, and then what? The torture would make us wish for death.

I don't reply. I scrape the chair back against the wood, grabbing my leather jacket and flinging it over my shoulder. "No point wishing on shit we can't change, Jar." My voice is flat as I turn my back to him.

"Do you think she'll survive?" he calls out, his words causing me to come to a stop. I know who he means—the girl, the one who fought, the one who looked at me like I was anything but the monster that I am.

"If she's smart enough, maybe," I reply. I walk away without giving him a chance to reply, and move my way through the manor. The staff are buzzing around, doing their last hourly clean, the smell of bleach and pine wafting into my nose as I head into the recruits' wing, which is nearly empty now they've all been sent off to live across the country. Hopefully, it'll be a while before we get any new ones.