Fernandez House — 1:00 A.M.
The halls were dark, just the low warm night–lights glowing. Everyone was asleep — Tita Gema in her room, Angelo and Aries in theirs, and Jay in the one across from Angelo.
Her phone buzzed quietly under the pillow.
Alex.
> ALEX: Mole located.Crew.Warehouse 19.
Handle it.
Jay swallowed. She looked toward the door of her room — listening.
Nothing.
She got up silently, grabbed her black cargo pants, fitted top, and boots. She tied her hair tight, slipped her silver blade into her jacket lining.
Before stepping out, she glanced toward Angelo's door… then Aries's.
They were the loud protectors. The ones who scolded her. The ones who argued about her being "too small for danger."
Yeah. She definitely wasn't waking them.
She quietly unlocked the back door of the Fernandez house and stepped into the night.
MJ's POV
The metal door groaned as I pushed it open.
Cold.
Quiet.
Dead air.
A single bulb flickered above the chair in the center.
And Zack was already there.
Leaning against a stack of crates, arms crossed, face unreadable in the shadows. He didn't say hello. Didn't smile. He simply tilted his head at the tied man as if presenting a gift.
"I figured you'd come," Zack said lowly. "So I brought him out."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
My throat didn't warm.
My chest didn't tremble.
MJ was already here.
"What'd he do?" I asked, stepping forward.
Zack's eyes hardened.
"Sold your name. Sold your movements. Told the wrong men that you're back."
A slow heat curled in my stomach.
I walked closer — boots echoing against concrete.
The mole lifted his head.
Unshaven. Bleeding. Bruised.
Yet somehow… smirking.
"Well, well," he rasped, looking me over. "The little ghost they're all afraid of."
Zack stiffened — but I?
I didn't react.
I stopped in front of him.
Close enough to smell the gunpowder on his jacket.
He laughed.
"I expected more. You look… small."
I didn't answer.
He leaned forward, spit blood at my boots.
"What's wrong, sweetheart? Scared?"
Zack stepped forward, jaw clenched.
"Jay—"
I held out my hand sharply.
He stopped.
My eyes stayed on the mole.
"You know why they call me MJ?" I whispered.
He scoffed. "Yeah. Because you pretend you're a monster."
I smiled.
"No.Because I don't pretend."
I grabbed his jaw—not gently—and forced his face upward.
His eyes widened for the first time.
"Look at me," I said softly.
He tried to jerk away.
He couldn't.
"Say it again," I breathed.
He swallowed. "Y-You're—"
I squeezed harder.
Bone shifted.
His scream cracked through the warehouse.
Zack didn't move.
He just watched.
I leaned closer, lips to his ear.
"You think giving my enemies my name was smart?" I whispered. "You think putting a target on me was funny?"
He choked on a breath.
"M-Money— they paid— I didn't know—"
"That's the problem."
My voice went cold.
"You didn't know who you were selling."
My hand slipped from his jaw to his throat.
His breathing hitched—panic spilling into his eyes.
"Jay," Zack said quietly, somewhere behind me. "Don't rush it. Make him fear it."
A low hum left my throat.
I pressed my thumb into the mole's windpipe.
He gagged.
"You wanted a monster?" I asked him.
"Congratulations."
His face reddened violently as he struggled.
I let go suddenly.
He gasped—too loud, too desperate.
I wiped my hand on his shirt as if touching him had dirtied me.
Then my knife slid into my palm.
He saw it.
And froze.
"No—no, wait—please— I have a family—"
"So do I," I said coldly.
And I cut.
Not fatal.
Not yet.
Just enough to make him scream again.
Blood trailed down his arm, dripping to the ground in slow rhythm.
"MJ," Zack murmured with a small dark smile, "you're back."
I didn't look at Zack.
I crouched — eye level with the mole.
"Tell me everything you leaked," I said quietly. "Every name. Every detail. Every location."
He trembled violently.
"And if you lie…"
I let the tip of the blade tap his chin.
"…I'll know."
He nodded quickly, crying now.
And MJ smiled.
"Good boy.
Start talking."
---
The mole's breathing turned jagged, chest rising in frantic, broken bursts.
I didn't move.
Zack didn't move.
The silence pressed down like a noose.
"Start," I said, voice flat.
Not loud.
Not kind.
Just final.
He swallowed hard, eyes darting between my knife and my face.
"R-River—"
His words tripped over each other.
"I told River and his boys— the ones from your past— the ones you left bleeding in that alley— they asked about you— they offered money— I thought y-you were out— I thought you were done—"
River.
River.
The name hit like a gunshot.
Old.
Rotten.
Unfinished.
"And?" I asked, tone unchanged.
He choked. "And they—they wanted to know where you'd be—who you'd be with—said they'd take you out this time—said you weren't a kid anymore, so they'd make it hurt—"
A slow exhale left me.
Zack cursed under his breath.
"Jay…"
But I wasn't listening anymore.
I wasn't even here.
I was back there — blood on concrete, knuckles bruised, lungs burning while River laughed above me.
I blinked.
And came back colder.
The mole saw the shift.
He started shaking uncontrollably.
"Please— please— please— I didn't know— I didn't know they'd really come— I didn't know—"
"You didn't know," I repeated quietly.
"You didn't know who I was.
Who I am."
He nodded rapidly, tears slicking his face.
"Please—just let me go— I swear— I won't say a word— I won't—"
I tilted my head.
"You already said too much."
He froze.
Completely.
No breath.
No sound.
No hope.
"M-MJ—"
I moved before the word finished leaving his mouth.
A single, clean motion.
The knife slid across his throat like a whisper.
His eyes widened.
Mouth opening soundlessly.
Blood spilling warm and fast over his shirt.
He clawed at the air.
The chair.
His own neck.
But it didn't matter.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
The body slumped, head lolling to the side, blood pooling in a slow spreading halo.
Ughh blood I quickly looked away...
Zack exhaled.
A long, low whistle.
"Damn, Jay," he murmured, voice equal parts impressed and slightly unnerved. "You didn't even flinch."
I wiped my blade clean on the dead man's shirt.
"I'm not supposed to flinch," I said.
Zack stepped closer, eyes lingering on the blood, then on me.
"Want me to torch the place?" he asked casually.
"No."
I sheathed the knife.
"Dispose of it."
He blinked.
"You're not staying?"
"No."
My voice was ice.
"I have bigger problems than trash on the floor."
Zack smirked that sharp, dangerous smirk of his — the one he only uses when MJ is fully awake.
"Yes, boss."
I turned to leave.
"Jay."
Zack's voice stopped me.
"River's going to know he's dead. Soon."
I didn't look back.
"I'm counting on it."
And I walked out of Warehouse 19 like death itself had just clocked out.
Fernandez House — 2:47 AM
Jay slipped in through the back door like a shadow.
Silent.
Fast.
Controlled.
Until—
SLIP.
Her foot skidded on the polished floor, her palm slamming against the wall with a sharp gasp.
Her eyes snapped down.
A tiny smear.
Barely there.
Almost invisible in the dim light.
But it was red.
Her blood phobia hit like a punch to the chest.
Her throat tightened instantly.
Breathing stuttered.
Her heartbeat roared in her ears.
"No—no, no, no—" she whispered, backing away from her own skin. "Not now… not—"
Her fingers shook violently as she pushed up her sleeve.
And there it was.
A thin line of dried blood — not hers — along her forearm.
Her vision blurred.
Her stomach twisted violently.
Her knees nearly buckled.
"Fck," she breathed, voice cracking. "Fck—"
Her chest burned, air refusing to go in, go out, go anywhere.
The memory flashed too fast —
the cut,
the spray,
the warmth,
the final gurgle.
"Stop—" she whispered to herself, clutching her hair.
"Stop thinking— stop— Jay— stop—"
She stumbled toward her room.
Hands shaking.
Breath shallow.
Skin crawling like the blood was alive on her.
"Please… please…" she whispered, almost pleading with her own body.
Her fingers fumbled along her desk drawer.
She ripped it open.
And there — in a small metal box — were the sedatives Angelo demanded she keep "just in case."
She snatched the bottle, nearly dropping it.
Her hands trembled so violently she could barely twist the cap.
"Come on— come on— open— OPEN—"
The cap finally popped off.
She dry-swallowed one pill.
Then another.
Then a third.
Her back hit the wall as she slid down to the floor, breathing in harsh, broken gasps.
Her vision pulsed.
The room tilted.
Her heartbeat slowed just enough for her to feel the tremors settling, exhaustion taking over the panic.
Her hands were still shaking when she whispered to herself—
"It's not yours.
It's not yours.
It's not yours."
Her eyelids grew heavy.
Her body slumped sideways, muscles finally giving out.
She didn't notice her bedroom door crack open.
Didn't hear the soft footsteps.
Didn't see the shadow in the doorway.
But someone did see her.
Someone saw everything.
And the last thing she heard before darkness dragged her under was a low, stunned voice:
"Jay… what the hell happened to you?"
ARIES' POV
The sound of the front door clicking shut jolted me awake.
It was 2:47 a.m.
My heart dropped.
Jay shouldn't be out this late. Not alone. Not ever.
I stepped out of my room, rubbing my face, when I saw her in the dim hallway—
barefoot, hoodie half-slipped, breathing too fast… and then—
Blood.
A faint smear on her wrist, another near her collarbone.
For a moment, the world tilted.
"Jay?" My voice came out sharper than I meant. "What the hell happened?"
She froze, eyes going wide like she'd been caught drowning.
"I—"
Her voice cracked. "Kuya Aries… I'm fine."
That word—"fine"—made my stomach twist.
She swayed.
I grabbed her before she hit the floor, one arm around her waist, guiding her into my room because it was closest.
She trembled the whole way.
When I switched the light on, she winced hard and turned her face away. Her hands were cold. Too cold.
"Sit," I said, softer this time.
She obeyed without a word.
I got the first-aid kit, kneeling in front of her. Up close, the blood looked fresh. Not much… but enough to scare her. I knew she hated blood—terrified, actually.
"Jay…" I took her wrist gently. "Where were you?"
She didn't answer at first. Her gaze kept darting to the wall, then the door, like she was calculating escape routes.
"Hey." I tilted her chin toward me. "I'm not mad. Just tell me."
Her throat bobbed.
"I went back to the crew," she whispered.
Just that.
No details. No explanation. A practiced, too-clean lie.
I paused. Not because I believed her—but because I could see it:
something heavy behind her eyes, something she wasn't ready to hand over.
"And the blood?" I pressed.
"I… cut myself on something." Her voice wavered. "Clumsy, right?"
Clumsy, my ass.
Jay was many things, but clumsy wasn't one of them.
I should've pushed. I should've demanded the truth.
But the way her fingers curled in the fabric of my shirt… the way she looked like she might break apart if I asked one more question—
I swallowed everything.
"Okay," I murmured, wiping the blood gently from her skin. "Just be careful next time."
She exhaled shakily, like she'd been waiting for me to snap.
I didn't.
I cleaned her up slowly, bandaged what little needed bandaging, then gave her water and the sedative she was reaching for with trembling hands.
"Aries…" she whispered when I tucked the blanket around her. "Don't tell Kuya Angelo."
I brushed a strand of hair from her face.
"I won't," I said quietly. "Just… stay alive, okay?"
Her eyes softened, guilt flickering for half a second before she closed them.
I sat beside her until her breathing evened out—
but I never stopped watching her.
Because Jay didn't come home with a cut.
She came home with secrets.
And I had no idea what kind of world she was stepping into.....
Later that night...
Jay fell asleep fast. Too fast.
Sedatives.
I stared at the empty pill bottle on my nightstand — the one she'd dropped on her way in.
Three pills missing.
My jaw clenched.
She didn't take sedatives unless she was spiraling.
She didn't spiral unless something bad happened.
I brushed her hair back, fingers trembling just a little.
Her lashes were still wet.
She cried.
Jay never cried.
Not in front of anyone.
Not unless she was collapsing from the inside.
I swallowed the heavy feeling pressing down on my chest. I pulled the blanket higher, making sure her neck wasn't exposed — she always hated that. Said it made her feel vulnerable.
She shifted, soft whimper leaving her lips.
"River… not yet…"
My blood froze.
River?
Not a place.
Not an object.
A name.
I stiffened.
I knew that name.
Everyone in the old crew whispered it like a curse.
Angelo once said, "If Jay ever sees River again… I don't know what she'll become."
Yeah yeah she doesn't know that me and kuya have been keeping tabs and know that she is back in the crew position still unknown but yeah she doesn't know that kuya knows ...
I looked at her.
Small.
Fragile.
Terrified.
And covered in someone else's blood.
My stomach tightened painfully.
"What did you walk into tonight?" I whispered.
She didn't answer — she just curled tighter into my pillow, like the nightmares were already catching her.
Her breathing was steady.
Her face calm.
Deceptive.
She whispered again, barely audible:
"Zack… don't let him… don't tell…"
Zack?Her old Assistant?
My heart sank.
So she wasn't with the crew.
She was with him.
Which meant whatever she did tonight…
It was real.
Dangerous.
Bloody.
I clenched my fists.
Silently, I promised—
Whoever River was, whatever he wanted, whatever world Jay was being dragged back into—
He'd go through me first.
I wasn't losing her.
Not again.
Not ever.
I lowered the light, leaned back against the wall, and stayed awake — guarding her like she was someone's last prayer.
Because right now?
She was.