Chapter 1

Chapter One

ZANE

All the doors in prison creak.

Loudly.

Not sure if that's an extra alarm or just a sign of neglect. My boots thump on a dirty floor that's half concrete and half-vomit stains. The lights flicker on and off.

This isn't the hallway they show to the human rights activists.

I follow the warden until he stops abruptly.

There. Another door.

Another creak.

That screaming, on-the-brink-of-death sound jars me. Metal hinges bawl out in pain. Sounds like someone's heart being ripped out of his chest.

This time, when the door slams shut behind me, there's a jangle of keys and the clank of metal against metal.

I'm locked in.

The room is brighter than I expected thanks to the harsh florescent light. A table sits in the middle. Two chairs on either side.

One of those chairs is occupied.

"You're Cross's kid," a bald man in an orange jumpsuit says, looking me dead in the eyes.

I grab the back of the empty chair and fall into it. "And you're Bartiste Slavno, army vet turned murderer."

He seems amused. "Killing is a part of war. You'd call me a murderer for killing our enemies?"

"Last I checked, we aren't at war with sixteen year old high school girls. Remind me again? What part of army training teaches you to hack teenagers to pieces?"

His face shifts. Just a slight tension of muscles in his jaw.

I feel strangely calm despite the fact that we're alone and Slavno has at least two inches, forty years, and fifty pounds on me.

"I see there's no need for an introduction."

"I see you didn't come willingly." I eye the fresh bruises on his face and around his inked neck. There are scab marks on one of the lines running straight up his throat. It's easy to tell where the army tattoos stopped and the prison tats started filling in.

"I have some questions about The Grateful Project."

"What are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?" He leans forward and the handcuffs jangle against the smooth surface of the desk. "You should run back to your daddy, to your safe little kingdom on the hill. This isn't the place for a prince like you."

I keep smiling.

He scowls.

I shake my head, giving in. "Fine."

An eyebrow pops high. He watches me cautiously.

"I don't care if you answer me. My question can wait." The fingers on my non-broken hand curl into a fist. "But I'm going to bring someone here soon. You're going to answer them ."

"Says who?"

My heart pounds with adrenaline, but I keep the sight of it from my face. My mask is my smile.

I tilt my head to the side and gesture to him. "Says me."

An ugly grin twists his lips. His shoulders shake as he laughs.

I smirk along with him, pretending I'm in on the joke.

A second passes.

Two.

Finally, his laughter settles into low chuckles. "You're Cross's kid, but you're nothing like your pops." Those hazy eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the sling cradling my wrist. "You lack the finesse."

I doubt Slavno knows he just paid me a compliment. Sharing Jarod Cross's genes doesn't mean I want to be like him.

"Are you saying you won't talk when the time comes?" I clarify.

"Does your daddy know you're here?"

The question has me smirking at the table. Last I checked, dad was on another ‘tour', far away from the crap storm he instigated. I'm not surprised he ran. Dad tends to skip town when someone around us is about to die.

Which is why I need to work fast before he has a chance to shut any mouths.

"No." Slavno wipes his eyes with a giant thumb and the handcuffs binding him catch the light, throwing it back against the thick, reinforced walls. "No, you didn't have daddy's permission, did you? And that means I won't tell you jack."

I shrug, still smiling at him. "I'll give you two minutes to change your mind."

His eyes narrow, sizing me up, lingering on my broken wrist, on the white cast that chaffs like hell, on the sling my brothers insisted I wear even if it makes me look like a pansy.

I see him mentally calculating how easy it would be to charge over the table and choke me with the very handcuffs keeping him imprisoned.

And yet, he hesitates.

Probably because I'm still smiling, still lounging, still perfectly carefree.

Nothing more psychotic than looking death in the face and making a joke of it.

Before the silence can stretch any longer, I nod to him. "Look, you don't know me. It's understandable. So I'll give you one more opportunity to agree on your own. If you do, I'll make sure you can at least walk when I bring my guest to see you."

"I could pop your head right off your neck," he threatens, but his voice trembles. He runs jagged fingernails over the needle marks on his arm.

"Not before I stab your throat." I fondle the pin in my cast, the only metal that was allowed through at the entrance.

He stalls, staring at me.

I don a patronizing smile, waiting for him to make a move.

But he doesn't.

Maybe because he can see the recklessness in my eyes. The desire for a fight. I've been so damn coddled since Hall broke my wrist. I haven't beaten a drum since that night. The restlessness has been building, mounting, sweeping over me like a tsunami.

This pin won't do much damage. Hell, it'll probably break against Slavno's thick neck, but I can at least get a few punches in before the idiot breaks my other wrist.

Slavno looks away first and folds his arms over his chest, a silent protest.

"Okay." I place my good hand on the table and push myself up.

I shuffle to the door and knock on it twice. There's an answering knock and then the door swings open.

"Bring in Marvba," I murmur.

When I turn, Slavno is standing. He looks nervous. Dirty fingers keep scratching at his arm.

I notice and purse my lips in mock sympathy. "Did dad forget to send your care package?"

Slavno grunts.

"He never was the type to keep his promises." I pause. "Always kept his threats though."

He twitches. That must have touched a nerve.

"It must suck…" I walk straight toward him with no fear. With the kind of bravery—or stupidity—of tourists on a safari approaching lions for a photoshoot. Calmly, I lean one hip against the table and stare into his junkie eyes. "… knowing those powerful people could spring you out of prison at any time, but they keep you in here. Stringing you along. Lying to you."

His nostrils flare. "What do you think happens if he knows you were here, huh?"

"It'd be worse for you than for me."

"No," he snarls. "It would be worse for you. Much, much worse."

I laugh at his poor attempt at intimidation. Does he think I'm afraid of my father? Dad is predictable because the only person he cares about is himself.

Honestly, I used to hold out hope for his humanity, for his love for us. But that hope is dead now. A cymbal crash fading into silence. Dad's already gone after my weaknesses, after the people most precious to me.

Now it's my turn to inflict some damage.

"Either way…" I lift my fingers and stare at my uneven nails. Clipping fingernails with one hand in a cast is hell on earth, and I don't look forward to another grooming session, "I'm here. And so are you." I tap my index finger on the desk. "And even if you tell him that we never spoke, that you never leaked information, he won't believe you. You're forever tainted. A liability."

Slavno's eyes get so wide, I can see the veins swimming through them. Like a cornered rat, he leaps up. The chair behind him crashes into the wall, teetering on its hind legs before slamming to the ground.

Desperately, he lunges across the table and grabs me by the collar. "If you think you can drag me into this mess, you've lost your f?—"

He stops mid-curse when the door behind me opens. Something blocks the light, almost like a tree suddenly sprung out of concrete and is towering behind me.

Slavno releases my shirt and stumbles back. His lips tremble in fear as if he's staring at a ruthless animal. And I guess, in a sense, he is.

"M-Marvba."

The shadow moves closer to us. A scraping sound, like chair legs dragging across the floor, fills the air.

Marvba grunts and I turn, tipping my chin up to meet his beady eyes. He grunts again, gesturing to the chair.

I shake my head. "Mr. Slavno and I were just about to come to an agreement."

"P-please." Slavno swallows so hard, his Adam's apple bobs visibly. "You have no idea what they'll do to me."

Sweat beads on his upper lip and his eyes are crazed. Interesting. Dad must be a real piece of work if someone like Slavno is more afraid of him than a king pin like Marvba.

"I guess he'll need some convincing," I admit to Marvba, a pleasant smile still on my face. To Slavno, I say, "I really didn't want it to come to this, but…" I shrug. "What can we do?"

Marvba takes one step forward.

Slavno breaks. "Wait. Wait! I don't know anything about anything. I swear. Even if I did, six years is a long time."

Marvba cracks his knuckles.

Slavno flinches. "But… I remember this much. The way they reached out to me."

"How?"

"A burner phone showed up in my apartment one night. Still have no freaking clue how it got there. I got a text with an address and a picture. After the deed was done, I got another text. This time with a different address. The cash was in a bag. I got no names, no faces. That's all I know. I swear."

I smile at him. It's a patronizing smile, I admit. He must think I'm an idiot.

"If that's all you knew, you wouldn't be so scared to share your information." I nod at Marvba who nods back. Facing Slavno again, I pat his shoulder in a friendly way. "I hope by the time I return, you'll remember the details you missed."

Satisfied that my part is done, I walk to the door. Slavno's shouts of terror echo to my ears and then stop abruptly when the door swings shut.

The warden is there, staring at me with a gleam of respect. "How do you know Marvba?"

"The Kings played a set for his daughter's birthday party."

"Huh." He looks thoughtful. Everyone knows Marvba worships the ground his daughter walks on.

"Appreciate your time." I slide a thick envelope to the warden who slips it into his jacket pocket.

Bribery isn't my forte but, after dad banished Dutch to prison just to keep him away from Cadey, I learned that money isn't only effective for stopping Jinx from posting yet another picture of me bare-backing a cheerleader.

Money makes things easier in every corner of the world—from the dark underbellies of society to the flashy, fake galas and charities mom used to drag us to when we spent summers with her.

The warden pats the envelope through his jacket as if to reassure himself that it's really there. "This way."

After personally escorting me to my bike outside, he goes in for a handshake.

"Did you get what you came for?" he asks.

"It's a start."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Me?" I set my helmet over my head and grin as I snap the visor down. "I'm going to a wedding."

Jinx: Redwood is on its knees and the kingdom is in chaos.

Our kings are shaken, our bald-headed governor was banished, and Sexy Teach declared war on a mysterious group of elites. Redwood has seen its share of scandals, but with this many skeletons falling out of the closet, there's only one thing to do.

Find a priest and some holy water, because all the ghosts you thought you buried are coming back to haunt you.

Until the next post, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer.

- Jinx