"Not every weapon glints in the light-- some wear silk and lace until they strike."
-----------------
I woke to darkness.
Thick, choking.
The kind of dark that pressed against your eyeballs and whispered that something was very, very wrong.
My head felt like it had been stuffed with broken glass and static. My limbs were heavy, muscles slow to respond.
Focus.
Breathe.
I flexed my fingers first. My legs. Testing.
Nothing broken. Nothing bleeding.
Cool concrete kissed my cheek.
The air smelled of damp stone, rust... and something else underneath.
Something metallic. Something wrong.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows. The room spun.
"Easy, Little De," a familiar voice drawled from the shadows.
I turned my head sharply-and immediately regretted it. The nausea was instant, burning the back of my throat.
Shapes came into focus.
Low ceilings. Cracked floors. No windows. A single bulb dangling from the ceiling like a dying star.
And sitting casually on a crate across the room-
Rion.
Not the boy I remembered.
Not even the man I thought I knew.
His jacket was thrown carelessly over a chair. His sleeves were rolled up. Tattoos inked sharp lines along his forearms, visible now under the harsh light. His expression was unreadable. Cold.
"You shouldn't have come," he said.
I licked my dry lips, forcing my voice through the cotton in my mouth.
"I trusted you."
"That's what makes this easier," he said, standing slowly. "You still think I care."
The betrayal stabbed sharper than the ache in my skull.
"You do care," I whispered. "You wouldn't have warned me to leave him if you didn't."
For a moment, just a flicker, something flashed across his face.
Guilt? Anger? I couldn't tell.
Then it was gone.
Wiped clean like a slate he no longer wanted to read.
"You made your choice when you sided with him," he said, stepping closer. "Now you'll live with it."
I pushed myself up fully, wobbling, but staying on my feet.
Barely.
"Where's Riley?" I demanded.
He scoffed. "Gone. Out of this mess, where she belongs."
"And me?"
His smile was humorless. "Collateral."
Collateral.
Like I was a misplaced bag of cash.
Not a person. Not the girl who used to braid his sister's hair while he teased us with fake bugs.
My fists clenched.
"I'm not staying here," I said.
He stepped closer, and this time, I saw it-
The anger.
"You think Vincent's going to come for you?" he asked, low and deadly. "You think that man will crawl through fire and blood for you?"
I didn't answer.
Because deep down...
I already knew the truth.
Vincent would burn the entire world down.
Rion chuckled darkly. "You always did pick the wrong people to believe in."
He turned toward the door, keys jingling lightly in his hand.
"You'll sit tight, Blossom. You'll learn."
A bitter smile.
"Everyone does eventually."
The door slammed shut behind him, the echo sealing the room like a coffin.
---
I sat down heavily on the floor, my mind racing.
Rion wasn't bluffing.
This wasn't some prank.
This was real-and I had no backup.
Except...
My hand slid into the inside of my jacket.
Fingers closing around the knife Vincent gave me-the one they didn't find.
The blade was small. Sharp. Hidden under layers of fabric like a secret.
Hope, pressed against my ribs.
If Rion thought I was just going to sit here and cry, he clearly hadn't been paying attention these past few months.
I wasn't that girl anymore.
And I wasn't staying here.
The knife fit perfectly into my palm-small, deadly, a whisper of steel against my skin.
I moved slow, steady.
Testing the door first-old wood, iron lock. Nothing I could force open with brute strength, not without alerting the entire building.
But the hinges?
Old. Rusted.
Maybe...
I wedged the knife carefully between the wood and metal, prying, grinding inch by inch.
Sweat beaded at my temple.
The light bulb above buzzed like it was counting down.
Almost...
The top hinge gave way with a sharp crack.
Come on. Come on.
I barely started on the second hinge when the door exploded inward.
Rion.
His boot slammed it open so hard the wall shook.
I staggered back, knife still in hand.
For a second-just a second-our eyes met.
He saw the blade.
He saw the intent.
And his face changed.
From cold...
to furious.
The knife slipped from my fingers as Rion slammed my wrist into the wall with a sickening crunch.
Pain bloomed instantly-white-hot, searing.
He didn't even look sorry.
Didn't even hesitate.
"Still think you're leaving here?" he said, voice low, dangerous.
I hissed through my teeth but refused to cry out.
He kicked the knife away with the tip of his boot, sending it skittering across the cracked floor.
Then he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were flat-empty in a way that made my stomach twist harder than any physical pain could.
"You know what the best part is?" Rion muttered, dragging me forward.
"You did this to yourself."
---
He didn't start with fists.
No-he was too clever for that.
Instead, he pinned me to the filthy wall and pulled a knife of his own.
A small, hooked blade. Gleaming.
Deliberate.
He dragged the tip lightly across my collarbone, enough to slice a shallow, stinging line.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to flinch even as blood welled up and trickled down my chest.
Another slash-this time across the outside of my thigh.
A burning kiss of pain that made my muscles lock.
"You bleed easy, Blossom," he whispered like it was a secret just between us.
He pressed a knee into my spine to hold me down as he carved slow, shallow cuts-deliberate, controlled, designed to humiliate.
To mark me.
To make Vincent see me broken.
And he recorded every second of it.
Every jerk of my body.
Every gasp I couldn't choke back.
"You think he's going to save you?" Rion taunted, dragging the blade lightly down my arm. "He's probably laughing right now. Betting how long you'll last."
I shut my eyes tight, refusing to give him the tears he wanted.
The fear he fed on.
---
Finally, he shoved me forward, letting me crumple onto the floor.
Blood dripped onto the concrete in tiny, mocking drops.
He filmed me like that-knees scraped raw, cuts decorating my skin like twisted ribbons.
Silent. Proud. Unbroken.
He ended the video.
"You'll thank me one day," he said coldly, slipping the phone into his pocket. "After you realize what kind of man you really chose."
I lay there, chest heaving, tasting copper and bile in the back of my throat.
He walked out without another word.
The door clicked shut with finality.
---
Lying there, hurt and shaking, I did the only thing left to me:
I smiled.
Because no matter what he thought...
no matter what that video showed...
Vincent would come.
And when he did?
He wouldn't leave enough of Rion behind to bury.