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9. Second Escape, Bound Consequences
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2025-06-06 13:50:38
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I AM YOURS TO PLAY 107. A New Dawn
Chapter 107: A New Dawn ETHAN’S POV The office smelled of cedar and old books, a scent that grounded me as I leaned forward in my chair, elbows on my knees, watching the boy across from me. His name was Caleb, sixteen, with a mop of dark curls and eyes that darted like a cornered animal’s. His knuckles were bruised, his lip split, and the way he hunched in the chair screamed of a kid who’d learned to make himself small. I knew that posture too well—had worn it myself for years, back when my foster parents’ house was a cage and every word from their mouths was a lash. “Caleb,” I said, keeping my voice low, steady, “you don’t have to shrink. Not here. This is your safe space.” He glanced up, mistrust flickering in his eyes. His father had caught him kissing a boy behind the school gym, and the fallout had been brutal. A belt, a fist, a litany of slurs that carved deeper than the bruises. I listened as he spilled it all, his voice cracking, his hands twisting the hem of his hoodie. E
I AM YOURS TO PLAY 106. Free At Last
Chapter 106: Free At LastLUCIAN’S POVThe prison yard buzzed with activity, the Miami sun scorching the concrete, the air thick with sweat and dust. I stood at the center, my jumpsuit loose, my arms crossed, my eyes scanning the line of inmates hauling crates for the weekly supply delivery. As the Reaper, I carried weight here—not through fear, but respect. Two years had carved me into a leader among the men, not a tyrant. I’d broken up fights, shared my rations, taught the younger ones to keep their heads down and survive. The wardens nodded my way, their eyes wary but warm, my presence a steady hand in this chaos. “Move it, Leonard!” I barked, my voice sharp, my hand gesturing to a lanky kid fumbling with a crate. “Stack it right, or we’re all eating dirt for dinner.” He nodded, his hands quickening, the others falling in line, their chatter low, their respect clear. I paced, my boots crunching gravel, my heart steady but heavy, my thoughts on Ethan—my butterfly, waiting beyond t
I AM YOURS TO PLAY 105. Hang In There
Chapter 105: Hang In There ETHAN’S POVThe Miami field office buzzed with the hum of phones and keyboards, the air sharp with tension and stale coffee, my desk cluttered with case files I no longer cared about. A year had passed since Lucian’s sentencing—two years of minor syndicate charges, a chance at parole in months if we appealed, but he wanted to serve it out, my stubborn Reaper. I leaned back in my chair, my eyes on the window, Miami’s skyline glittering, my heart heavy with a truth I’d carried for months: the FBI didn’t deserve me. Even they knew the truth, their guilt gnawing at them despite the weird promotion they gave me. Hayes, Ryan, the corrupt bastards who framed Lucian and left me for dead—they were gone, executed for their betrayal, their deaths a cold justice I’d witnessed, their blood on the floor a reminder of the agency’s failure. Yet, the badge on my hip felt like a chain, my purpose eroded by their lies. The door creaked, my foster mother’s voice grating, he
I AM YOURS TO PLAY 104. Exile's Return
Chapter 104: Exile’s ReturnMARCO’S POVThe Miami sun blazed through the condo’s floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood, the air heavy with the scent of whiskey and regret. I stood outside Ethan’s door, my knuckles hovering, my heart pounding, my guilt a weight I couldn’t shake. Lucian was in jail, serving two years for minor syndicate charges, his freedom a faint hope with a possible appeal. Ethan was back, alive, a miracle that shattered my world in a good and sad way. I’d lost everything—my best friend, my brother, the man I’d loved in secret, all because I was envious of his love story with Ethan Caldwell. I’d betrayed them, let jealousy twist me, and now I had nothing left but apologies and a one-way ticket out of this city.I knocked, my breath shallow, my boots scuffing the floor. The door creaked open, Ethan turning from the window, shirtless, his skin taut over lean muscle, his bandages stark against his torso, his eyes sharp despite the pain et
I AM YOURS TO PLAY 103. Court Of Truth
Chapter 103: Court Of TruthLUCIAN’S POVThe courtroom’s fluorescent lights buzzed, casting harsh shadows on the polished wood benches, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and tension. My orange jumpsuit chafed, my cuffs bit into my wrists, my body slumped in the defendant’s chair, my heart a hollow ruin. A month of hearings had drained me—each session dragging, each adjournment a delay to the inevitable. The prosecutor piled lies on lies: I didn’t just kill Ethan, they said, I had my men hide his body to cover it up. Drug trafficking, human trafficking, the murders of those women in D.C., the train heist—all of Viktor Salazar’s and Director Hayes’ sins, pinned on me to bury their corruption. I didn’t care. Ethan was gone, his blood was still on my hands, because his sacrifice was my failure. I just wanted the verdict, the cell or maybe the chair—anything to end this charade and join him in the dark.The courtroom buzzed, reporters scribbling, spectators whispering, my enfo
I AM YOURS TO PLAY 102. Survivor's Fight
Chapter 102: Survivor’s FightETHAN’S POVThe hospital room was a sterile prison, the air thick with antiseptic, the monitors’ beeps a relentless pulse, my body a battleground of pain—my abdomen wrapped in bandages, my left arm locked in a sling, my head a fog of fractured shadows. I lay propped against the pillows, my eyes heavy, my heart pounding with an ache I couldn’t name, a voice echoing in my skull—Butterfly, don’t leave me—a man’s face flickering, dark eyes sharp, jaw carved, his touch a ghost I couldn’t grasp. The TV flickered on the wall, its light harsh, the news anchor’s voice slicing through the haze like a blade. “Lucian Moretti appeared in court today for his third hearing, steadfast in his guilty plea for the murder of FBI agent Ethan Caldwell, alongside charges of drug trafficking, human trafficking, and money laundering…”My breath stopped, my eyes snapping to the screen, Lucian’s face filling it—ragged, hollow, his orange jumpsuit stark, his cuffs glinting under fl
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