04-19-2025, 08:58 PM
Jay was a statue when Matías entered the room. A silent sentinel in what might as well have been a tomb. The air felt dead. Cold. As if it, too, was holding its breath. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest, muscles coiled just beneath the skin. Every twitch, every step Matías made, Jay tracked it.
He thought, briefly, of what it would feel like to unmake him. To reduce the man to raw meat, to tear muscle from bone and watch the floor slick crimson with his insides. The image was sharp. Satisfying.
But it was also irrational.
He didn’t know Matías. Not really. Just a name in a file, just another ghost trailing behind a blood-soaked legacy. He had never exchanged a single word with him before today. And still, it didn’t matter. The name Amengual was poison enough. Trusting one would be like drinking acid and expecting it not to burn.
So no. Personal ignorance was no shield for this man.
The only thing standing between Matías and Jay’s rage was Michael’s command, and even that protection felt paper-thin. Jay had already weighed the consequences of disobedience. What would it cost? His place? His peace? His skin? Maybe. But the truth lingered like a taste in his mouth: some things were worth the cost.
He hadn’t decided yet if this was one of them.
A beat of silence passed between them, thick and brittle. Then Jay spoke. Short, clipped, and low.
“Fine. What is it?”
He thought, briefly, of what it would feel like to unmake him. To reduce the man to raw meat, to tear muscle from bone and watch the floor slick crimson with his insides. The image was sharp. Satisfying.
But it was also irrational.
He didn’t know Matías. Not really. Just a name in a file, just another ghost trailing behind a blood-soaked legacy. He had never exchanged a single word with him before today. And still, it didn’t matter. The name Amengual was poison enough. Trusting one would be like drinking acid and expecting it not to burn.
So no. Personal ignorance was no shield for this man.
The only thing standing between Matías and Jay’s rage was Michael’s command, and even that protection felt paper-thin. Jay had already weighed the consequences of disobedience. What would it cost? His place? His peace? His skin? Maybe. But the truth lingered like a taste in his mouth: some things were worth the cost.
He hadn’t decided yet if this was one of them.
A beat of silence passed between them, thick and brittle. Then Jay spoke. Short, clipped, and low.
“Fine. What is it?”
Only darkness shows you the light.