3. Chapter 3

3

Clara

T he giant doesn’t even blink.

“Get away from my mommy, bad guy!” Elijah yells.

What? Wait.

Before I can process what’s happening, Elijah bolts from behind me, zooming past like a damn bullet.

Shit.

“Elijah!” I shout, reaching out to grab him, but it’s too late. He’s already flying toward the giant like some fearless warrior, his tiny fists raised as if he’s going to take down a fucking mountain.

My heart stops. No, no, no.

But the kid’s determined. He lets out this battle cry—“AAAAAAAAhhhh!” A high-pitched yell—and before I know it, he’s swinging at the giant’s legs . Fuck.

The fucking giant doesn’t flinch. Not even a blink. Just stands there, solid as a brick wall, his massive frame towering over Elijah. And then, without warning, his hand moves—fast but controlled—scooping Elijah up like he weighs nothing.

“Elijah!” I lunge forward, adrenaline flooding my veins. I don’t think. I just move, trying to grab him back, trying to make this monster feel something, anything—but he doesn’t budge. My fist connects with his arm again. He looks down, one eyebrow raised, lips curling into an infuriating smirk.

Fuck . I’m panting, trying to rip Elijah from his grip, but he is calm, unbothered. He just stares down at me, holding Elijah like he’s holding a bag of groceries.

“Stop fighting,” he rumbles, his voice low but not angry. “Or I won’t let you go to the TV room.”

I freeze mid-swing.

What the fuck did he just say?

TV room?

Elijah’s still kicking, but his tiny fists are no match for this monster. He holds him easily, his grip firm but not cruel.

Elijah glares at him, face scrunched in fury. “Put me down! Pikachu’s gonna shock you!”

The man’s expression doesn’t change. “No Pikachu shocks today,” he says, deadpan. “But if you stop fighting, you can watch him.”

Am I hearing this right?

My brain stutters, trying to catch up.

Did this giant just promise my kid Pikachu movies?

Elijah pauses, his fists mid-air, considering. He looks back at me, his eyes wide with confusion and maybe—just maybe—a little excitement. “Mommy… Pikachu?”

I blink, completely thrown off.

Is this real life?

I look up at the man, half expecting him to laugh, to drop the act, but he’s dead serious.

“Mommy…” Elijah squirms in the giant’s grip, but his little face is scrunched up in that way it gets when he’s trying to solve a particularly tricky puzzle. “We can watch Pikachu?”

The giant nods and gives Elijah a wink.

“Elijah, baby, we can’t—” I lunge forward, trying to pry my son from the giant’s grasp. His arm doesn’t budge. Fuck. “Don’t you dare bribe him with Pikachu, you—” I start pounding on his bicep. Ouch! It’s like hitting a brick wall. Pain shoots through my knuckles. “Son… of… a… biscuit eater !”

He tilts his head slightly, looking down at me as if I’m some kind of dumb animal.

Well. I feel stupid.

Before I can even process my next move, the door swings open, and in walks Joker—of course. He’s got that permanent smirk plastered on his face like he’s the star of some private comedy show that only he understands. He’s munching on something, again, because of course he is.

My eyes dart to the door, half-expecting Leonid to walk in behind him. But no. Just Joker.

Joker saunters in, placing himself by the window, arms crossed casually, like he’s inspecting a painting or something. His eyes finally land on me, and the smirk grows.

“Well, well, well. Looks like our guests are settling in nicely,” he drawls, taking in the scene. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Dmitry’s hospitality not up to your standards?”

Dmitry. I make a mental note, side-eyeing the giant still holding my son. So, that’s his name.

I glance at Elijah. To my shock, the kid isn’t squirming anymore. He’s leaning against Dmitry’s chest like it’s the most comfortable thing in the world. His little hands are clutching onto the man’s shirt, and there’s this weird calmness in his face that wasn’t there a minute ago.

What the fuck?

Joker follows my gaze, chuckling. “You sure you want to fight Dmitry?” His eyes glint with amusement, that annoying smirk never leaving his face. “I mean, look at him—doesn’t seem like the worst babysitter, does he?”

I want to punch that smirk right off his face.

“Let him go,” I snap, trying to sound threatening, but it’s hard when Elijah looks like he’s about to nap against this massive thug. My fists are still clenched, but deep down, I know it’s pointless.

What am I gonna do? Take on two of them?

Joker leans against the wall, his hands sliding into his pockets, looking far too comfortable for my liking.

“Listen, sweetheart. You can keep fighting, but it’s not gonna get you anywhere. You’re here, and you’re gonna stay here—might as well enjoy it.” He shrugs, completely unbothered. “We’re not gonna hurt the kid. In fact, I’d say Dmitry’s got a soft spot for him already.”

I glance back at Dmitry, who’s still standing there, calm as ever, holding Elijah like he’s a kitten. I can’t decide if it’s terrifying or just bizarre.

Joker’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna be smart about this, or are we gonna keep playing this game?” He’s not smirking now, and his tone—no, his look—tells me this is more than a joke.

I swallow, looking at Elijah again. He’s not scared. In fact, he’s looking at me like he’s waiting for me to say yes to the Pikachu offer.

Fucking hell.

I exhale, throwing up an invisible white flag. “Fine,” I mutter, the word tasting bitter. “But I’m not playing nice. And I sure as hell don’t trust any of you.”

Joker’s grin returns in full force. “Oh, Clara Caldwell , I wouldn’t dream of it.”

There’s something off about the way he’s looking at me like he’s piecing together something I’d rather keep hidden. He gives Elijah a quick, knowing glance, and then his gaze snaps back to mine.

He knows.

No. Not everything. My breath hitches, and before I can stop myself, I glance quickly at Elijah.

Dmitry finally puts Elijah down, and to my shock, my son doesn’t run back to me. He stands there for a second, looking up at Dmitry, then back at me, like he’s waiting for the next move.

“Mommy, Pikachu?” Elijah asks, his eyes big and hopeful.

I pinch the bridge of my nose because of course this is happening. “Sure, baby,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m losing my grip on reality. “Let’s go watch Pikachu.”