CHAPTER 104

CHAPTER 104
"Sick of punching lockers, Zacks? Or did you stop by to apologize for being a better villain than me?"
I scowled through the plexiglass divide, into Wells Ambrose's wolfish grin. His orange jumpsuit was rumpled like it was meant for someone else. He seemed. smug. Even incarcerated.

"No," I said to him. "I dropped by to see if anything remained of the teammate I once respected. Thought I'd inquire personally before they locked you away for good."

Wells laughed, leaning back in the plastic chair like he was on a damn vacation. "Big words, coming from the man who let a girl rebuild his entire damn legacy."

My jaw tightened.

"You crossed a line, Wells."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Which one? There were so many."

"You put Mackenzie in danger."

His smile wavered, as if I'd penetrated the outer layer. But only briefly.

I didn't come for revenge. I didn't even come for closure. I came because something within me wouldn't rest until I knew why. Why go so far? Why throw gasoline on a fire we were barely surviving?

Wells knocked on the plexiglass. "You ever think she might be collateral damage? That she wasn't the intended target?"

That gave me pause. I frowned.

"What?"

He leaned forward now, elbows on the table, voice dropping to a whisper that was colder than any cell. "She wasn't supposed to get hurt. Not like that, anyway. Just. shaken up. Rattled. Thrown off her game."

My blood ran cold.

"You leaked the file. My sealed juvenile record. You gave them everything. And you're telling me Mackenzie nearly getting killed was a. side effect?"

"Yeah." He sneered. "Collateral damage."

I rose to my feet so fast the guard behind me jumped, but I didn't move another inch. My fists were clenched at my sides.

"She almost died, Wells."

He shrugged. "And? You almost did too. When she posted that picture. Fair game."

I wished I could leap over the divider and finish it there and then. But I didn't. Because that's what he required. He always played games he didn't know how to finish.

"You're not a martyr, Wells. You're a coward with too much time and not enough soul."

"Careful," he said, sourly laughing. "That sounds like self-projection."

The room was quiet. Somewhere a clock ticked. Sharp and loud like gunfire.

"You never hated her," I whispered. "You hated me."

He didn't respond at first. Just looked at me—looked through me, almost. And then he said, "You changed. After the trial. After the silence. You weren't one of us anymore."

I exhaled slowly. "No. I wasn't."

There it was. The rot underneath it all. Not Mackenzie. Not the photo. Not even the fall.

Betrayal.

"You think I sold out because I didn't act like it didn't ruin me anymore?" I asked. "You think I forgot what it was like to wake up and recall that every single person who clapped for you was waiting for you to bleed?"

He didn't have anything to say.

"I didn't collapse. I burned. Quietly. And you fed the flames because it made you feel significant.".

Wells laughed again, but it was quieter now. Less assured. "Tell yourself what you need to, man. Just don't act like you didn't get something out of it."

I moved in closer, my voice a blade.

"I got Mackenzie."

His smile slipped.

"She's stronger than you ever were. Than we ever were. And that scares you."

He looked away. For the first time since I'd walked in, he actually looked away.

There was silence for a while. I studied his face, trying to see past the twisted grins and arrogant bravado. Then he said words I hadn't expected.

"She's not the enemy. Not really. But someone wanted her broken, Tony."

I froze.

"What are you talking about?"

He rolled his head to one side, eyes half-lidded. "There's more players in this game than you and me. You ever think about who stands to benefit most from your breakdown?

"You're saying someone else made you leak the file?" 

Wells didn't nod. Didn't deny it, either.

"I'm saying." He leaned back again. "Not all orders come from above. Sometimes they come from the person beside you, whispering in your ear for months on end so that you forget they were ever a voice and not your own mind."

That was cryptic even for him. But it sent shivers down my spine.

"Who?" I pressed.

He smiled like he was proud of the chaos. "Ask Thatch."

Her name hit me like an aluminum bat.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

But he was done. The sparkle in his eye dulled. He slumped in his chair like he'd played his last card and didn't care what the consequences were.

"I'm done talking," he snarled, turning his face away. "Have fun with your ghost, Zacks. I know I will.".

The guards intervened when I stood, stunned, frozen, fists shaking with rage I didn't know how to unleash.

When I came out, silence clung to me like oil. Thick. Chill. Unmoveable.

Something was wrong.

Wells wasn't the end. He was just the catalyst. The real fire was still smoldering somewhere in the background.

And if what he'd said was true—if Thatcher Reed was in this— 

Then I hadn't even begun to know betrayal.

\---

Outside, the air was different. 

The cold wasn't sharp like prison air. It was heavy with truth and something darker I couldn't yet name.

I walked back to the car in silence, each step echoing in my ears louder than Wells' twisted voice.

I could still hear Mackenzie's scream the night her life almost ended. The break of the glass. The scream. The silence that followed.

Someone had wanted her dead. Not shaken.
Dead.

And it was no longer about revenge.

It was war.