Chapter 3 3 pricks on roses.

Like a storm pretending to be the sky.

The next day, the world moved differently.

Slower. Softer. Safer at least on the surface.

Jessica stood at the edge of Javier's private balcony, barefoot, wrapped in a robe far too luxurious to feel real. Below, the city pulsed like a living thing loud, relentless, unforgiving. She recognized it. She belonged to it. But this height, this silence... It felt like someone else's life. Someone clean. Someone untouched.

But she wasn't untouched. She'd been broken in too many ways to count, stitched back together with silence and survival.

Behind her, the sliding doors whispered open. She didn't turn.

"I thought you might like coffee," Javier's voice said, deep and unreadable. "Or space. But not both."

She glanced over her shoulder. He was dressed in black this time dark shirt, sleeves rolled again, no tie. The man wore his power like a second skin. Too refined for menace, too dangerous for peace.

"Do you always deliver drinks in person?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

His mouth curved slightly. "Only when the guest might jump."

Jessica blinked, startled. "You think I'd jump?"

"I think you're curious about the idea," he said, offering the mug. "But not quite ready to let Damon win."

Her chest tightened. She accepted the coffee, more to anchor herself than anything else.

"You know his name like it's personal," she murmured.

"It is," Javier replied. "He's stepped into my territory one too many times. I'm not in the business of rescuing anyone, Jessica. But I am in the business of ruining men like him."

She turned to face him fully now. "So I'm bait."

"No." His voice darkened. "You're the fire. I'm just giving you the match."

Jessica stared at him, studying the angle of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed as he spoke as if he, too, was barely holding himself together. She hated how he made her feel seen. Not watched. Not wanted. Seen.

It was terrifying.

"I want to leave," she said suddenly. "Today."

"You can," he said without hesitation. "But the moment you step outside that door, Damon will know. He has eyes everywhere. He's already looking for you."

She swallowed, her throat tight. "Then let him find me."

Javier stepped closer, not touching her just hovering in her space. "You say that like you're not afraid of what he'll do."

"I'm afraid of what you'll do if I stay."

He smiled then but it wasn't cruel. It was quiet. Sad, almost. "Good. Then we understand each other."

Silence stretched between them.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone.

"Contacts. Secure. No tracking," he said, offering it to her. "You can call anyone. Or leave. You choose."

Jessica stared at it. The illusion of freedom wrapped in glass and circuitry.

She didn't take it.

Instead, she whispered, "He made me hurt people."

Javier didn't react. He didn't flinch. Just stood there like a monument immovable and merciless. "You want to confess to me?"

"No," she said. "I want you to understand. I wasn't some dancing girl in a pretty cage. I made choices. I survived. I lied. I helped Damon trap people. I wore a dress. I smiled while the girls were taken. I was useful. And when I stopped being useful, he"

Her voice cracked.

She bit down hard on it.

"I'm not asking for pity."

"You won't get it," Javier said calmly. "Only weapons. If you're ready."

Jessica stared at him. "And if I'm not?"

His eyes met hers. Steady. Cold. Respectful.

"Then you heal. And no one touches you again."

It was too much.

Too much kindness dressed as cruelty. Too much safety disguised as a deal with the devil. Jessica backed away, retreating into the warmth of the apartment's shadows.

"You'll regret this," she said.

Javier's voice followed her inside. "I don't regret much. But I do collect debts."

Later that night

Jessica stood in the walk-in closet the size of her old apartment. Everything inside was tailored, labeled, untouched. A selection of armor wrapped in fabric. Javier hadn't asked her to change. Hadn't told her what to wear. But the message was clear: shedwho you were.

She found a simple black dress. No heels. Just flats. Just... movement.

She descended the stairs to the sound of quiet music, something jazzy, almost lazy. Javier sat on the couch, reviewing a thick file. Beside him, an untouched glass of wine.

He looked up, his gaze skating over her like smoke.

"You look different."

Jessica lifted her chin. "I feel the same."

"Shame."

She hesitated. "Where are we going?"

"We're not."

He closed the file and slid it across the table toward her. Her stomach twisted.

A photograph stared back at her. A man in a cheap suit. Dark eyes. Sleazy smile.

The one who held her down first.

"I want names," Javier said simply. "I want faces. Deals. Codes. Anything Damon ever made you memorize. Anything he forced you to watch."

Jessica didn't sit. She stared at the photo.

She hadn't seen that face in three years.

"Why now?" she asked quietly.

"Because Damon is moving against me," Javier said. "And I don't just want to stop him. I want to bury him."

Jessica closed her eyes.

The broken doll inside her silent, obedient, empty screamed in panic.

But the woman she used to be, the one Damon tried to erase?

She was waking up.

And she was hungry for revenge.