I’ll make it worth your while.
Addy: You’re very confident.
I’ve been paying attention.
Don’t overthink it. We’ll take this one step at a time.
Addy: Apparently, you don’t know me as well as you think.
Addy: I’ll be doing nothing but overthinking this.
Talk soon. Don’t miss me too much.
Addy: Yeah, don’t think we’re in any danger of that.
A few seconds after her last message, her status went dark. She didn’t yet fully grasp what she had stepped into.
I stared at the screen for longer than necessary, my thumb idly resting against the edge of the phone. The app felt different now — less like a tool and more like a live wire that had just been connected.
With the letters there had been distance but this was a kind of proximity she couldn’t easily dismiss. This was the knowledge of being able to reach her in seconds if I wanted to. She’d opened the door and I’d stepped right through, making myself at home.
I wondered what she was doing now. Had she tossed the phone aside and paced her apartment or flopped back on her bed, laughing at her own recklessness? Had she replayed the exchange line by line, telling herself she wasn’t affected while cataloguing every word anyway?
Addy would tell herself she ended it. Tell herself she got the last word in.
I turned the phone face down on the thin mattress and leaned back against the wall, listening to the sounds of Blackwood settling into its version of night. Somewhere down the block, someone laughed too loudly, a guard barked an order and metal shifted. The usual.
Nothing had changed.
And yet …
Tomorrow, my little devil would wake up with this sitting under her skin — quiet, but persistent. She would have the knowledge I was real in a way I hadn’t been before. She would be aware this was turning into something she had no control over and couldn’t contain.
I didn’t need to message her again tonight. The door was open now, and sooner or later, curiosity would draw her back.
And when it did, I’d be right here.
I stood near the back wall of the block, angling my shoulder just enough to see the corridor’s reflection in the metal. I pitched my voice low enough for it to blend into Blackwood’s familiar soundtrack of containment: shouting and steel. I’d memorized it years ago.
It was the rhythm of a place convinced it owned me.
Blackwood stripped men down to their true selves. Most didn’t survive the process unscathed but Kyrill did. That’s why I noticed him and that’s why I chose him to be my right-hand man.
“It’s moving faster than we anticipated,” I explained. “Hunter’s ahead of schedule. Every camera, every log and every failsafe has been patched. He’s already running test breaches.”
Kyrill’s expression barely shifted, but his attention sharpened.
For a brief, uninvited moment, I remembered the first time I had seen him.
The yard had been full of commotion that day. There were too many men, not enough space, and too few consequences for stupidity. I’d been leaning against the fence, watching a fight break out and waiting to seehow it would play out, watching to see who was worth noticing and who was worth adding to my collection.
Kyrill had joined the fight late. One of the larger inmates, who was both stupid and aggressive, with blood already dripping down his face, had turned on him, swinging wide. Kyrill didn’t dodge. He stepped in and took the fucking hit. Then he ended it with brutal efficiency.
There was no wasted movement or unnecessary theatrics. The man hit the ground and didn’t get back up.
Everyone else hesitated, but not Kyrill. He simply wiped the blood from his mouth, glanced around once to assess the situation and walked away, as though he had never doubted the outcome.
That was the moment I’d decided to recruit him.