Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jey hated being back in the city.

After severing ties with the Bloodline, he had thought he’d left this place behind for good. 

Yet, here he stood outside a dark and dingy building that someone had the audacity to call a club. The exterior was a patchwork of purple and black paint, marred by layers of grime and decay, with shards of broken glass scattered underfoot. No sign marked the entrance, just a battered door that hung slightly ajar, inviting the desperate and the daring into its depths. The stench of stale beer and sweat wafted through the air, hinting at the chaos that waited inside.

He narrowed his eyes as he spotted a hastily scrawled graffiti tag on the wall: two letters—JD. The Judgment Day. He found it almost humorous how his path continued to cross with them. Finn, Damian, JD, Dominik, and Rhea Ripley - of all the gangs that ruled this gritty quarter, the Bloodline and the Judgment Day were the titans. A shaky treaty had been formed between Roman and them, but in this bloodthirsty wasteland, such agreements meant little more than a pinky promise from a man with no hands.

Leaning against his car, he adjusted his shades, hoping the tinted lenses would hide his face and that enough time had passed for people to forget him. That was what he wanted in the end - to be forgotten. To slip quietly into history alongside all the bloodshed and pain the right-hand man had inflicted upon every faction, every enemy, every… innocent. 

A year ago, the idea of obscurity would have sent him into a blind rage. The right-hand man had been born from the fear of being overlooked, from always being ‘the other twin’ or ‘which one is he again?’ 

But time changes everything, and now he found himself outside yet another club, searching for Jimmy.

Jey gripped the purple bandanna tucked into his jacket pocket, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene around him. Being back here stirred old habits - his instincts kicked in, head on a swivel. The right-hand man’s voice echoed in his mind: anyone could get it. 

Ghostly reflexes from a past that continued to haunt him. 

Even when he was outside the quarter’s limits, he’d occasionally be recognized and have to fend off someone with a score to settle. Sometimes he managed to defuse the situation, but other times, the darker part of him would surface, and he’d remind them all just who they were dealing with.

The Judgment Day had always been a motley crew, a collection of punk rockers with wild hair and inked skin. He caught sight of one member throwing up violently into a barrel nearby, while another couple was caught in a heated embrace in the back of a truck, oblivious to the world around them. 

Jey felt out of place, like a relic from a different era. 

He pushed his shades higher on his face, trying to blend in.

And then he saw her.

Rhea Ripley.

She stood out even in the midst of the club's debauchery, her long black trench coat flowing around her like a shadow. The coat hugged her form, billowing slightly in the breeze. Leather boots laced up to her calves, scuffed and worn from what he assumed were many battles for these very streets.

He might have even caught one to the head if memory served him right.

It was her expression that caught him off guard - there was a loneliness in her eyes, an undercurrent of sadness that seemed at odds with the fierce persona he remembered. Anger flickered beneath the surface, too, a storm brewing just out of sight.

She exhaled the last puff of smoke, flicking the cherry over the balcony’s edge. Jey watched as she leaned on her elbows, surveying the scene below. Her dark hair moved softly in the breeze, longer than he remembered - no longer slicked back but cascading just above her shoulders, one side tucked casually behind her ear. 

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the weight of their shared history hung in the air..

Electric. 

He removed his shades, and for a split second, shock flashed across her face before the spark ignited between them, something they had always shared, something he couldn’t quite name.

Rhea smirked, her lips curving into that familiar playful grin, and she gave him her signature wave: hand upright, fingers flicking outwards in a teasing motion. Then, with a flick of her coat, she stepped backward into the shadows of the club's second floor, her eyes fixed on him until she vanished from view.

Jey took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, just like the books said to do. He had been soul-searching a lot in the past year, initially dismissing the self-help guides as crap. But now they had become his personal bibles - verses for forgiveness, prayers for calmness, and absolution for the monstrous things he had done and was still very much capable of doing. 

Despite his hesitation to revisit this path, he had to do it for his brother. He regretted the last words he’d spoken to him; they echoed in his mind: “Get out of my face, man.” 

That was it. 

If someone had captured him - whether it was one of these gangs or anyone looking to make a name for themselves - anything could happen to him. If the wrong person got to him, those could very well have been his last words to him.

He couldn’t let that stand. 

Not when he could have been there for him.

Seeing Rhea confirmed that he was in the right place, and now he had someone to ask about the night his brother was captured. As he stepped into the club, he wondered if Rhea would be friend or foe?

Rhea headed straight to the bar once she returned from the balcony, her steps quick and deliberate. She was trying to go unnoticed, after all, she wasn’t part of Judgment Day anymore. Finn, Liv Morgan, and her ex, Dominik Mysterio, had made sure of that, casting her out without a second thought. The betrayal still stung, but tonight wasn’t about the past - it was about getting answers.

Rhea deftly snatched a bottle from the counter, ignoring the protests of a half-dazed man slouched nearby, and made her way to the darkest, most secluded corner of the bar. The dimly lit space smelled of dampness, but it was quiet. She sank into the chair she found, took a long swig from the bottle, and let the burn of the alcohol settle into her chest.

What the hell was Jey Uso doing here? 

Of all places, of all bloody nights?

Rhea had been coming to this bar for a month now, lingering in the shadows and listening for whispers, hoping to find the scumbag who had some connection to Damian’s disappearance. It was the only lead she had - a friend of their friend had mentioned that someone here had been tasked with feeding Damian.

The idea of it turned her stomach. 

Feeding him? 

The thought of Damian being reduced to that - her strongest, fiercest partner, the one who had always stood by her, who had fought by her side - hurt in a way she couldn’t describe. He wasn’t some weak, helpless thing. Damian was her equal, her terror twin, the one person she could rely on, and now he was somewhere out there, treated like a prisoner.

She clenched her fists around the bottle. The rage inside her bubbled up again. She hadn’t gotten any closer to the truth in all this time. Every lead was a dead end, every face that could’ve given her answers turned up nothing. And now, here she was, in this filthy excuse for a club, where degenerates gathered to drown in booze and drugs, with no guarantee she’d find what she was looking for.

Still, she couldn’t stop imagining it. Damian - alone, locked away, and being. Fed . 

It was an insult to everything they had been through together, to everything he was.

She thought back to the night a year ago when Finn, Dominik, and Liv had revealed their treacherous plot. Rhea and Damian had made it clear that there would be no treaty with the New Bloodline; they were cutting ties to take the gang in a new direction - one that didn’t involve the New Bloodline and their promise of a greater share of the quarters. 

The moment Roman had finally been usurped by The Rock, everything had spiraled into chaos. The carnage The Rock - self-proclaimed "Final Boss" - had been willing to unleash was beyond brutal. It wasn't just about ruling by force anymore. 

It was about burning entire cities to the ground.

Roman had gone underground with Paul Heyman, according to rumor, and the old Bloodline fractured and scattered to the wind. The only ones left standing were The Rock and his New Bloodline - Jacob Fatu, the Tongans, and Solo Sikoa. The Rock had named himself "The High Chief" and everyone bowed to him, no matter the faction or the gang - or else.

Finn and Dom had backstabbed them, forming a treaty with the New Bloodline that secured their ranks in The Rock's new “kingdom.” It turned out Dom had a thing for blondes afterall, and he sparked a romance with Liv behind Rhea's back, further solidifying their betrayal. Together, the three of them crafted a twisted version of family, one that left Rhea and Damian estranged. 

Rhea and Damian had fought hard against the odds, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. In a desperate attempt to protect her, Damian used the last of his strength to help her escape, holding off their attackers as she slipped away. While she had managed to break free, he had been captured, and now, over a year later, she still hadn’t seen her best friend since that night.

Liv’s final words echoed in her mind: she would take everything Rhea loved. And she had. Liv had taken her family, stripped her of Dom, and now she had robbed her of Damian. Liv knew that losing Damian, of all the things, would break her.

And it had.

That’s why Rhea was in this shithole club. She needed to find that clout chasing  jerk and get some answers; he would talk . 

They all talked . 

One way or another . 

But Jey Uso was a wild card. 

Was he back with the Bloodline? 

They had crossed paths before, and while she wanted to believe he was a man of principle, she couldn’t shake the nagging doubt. He had denounced the Bloodline and then he vanished without a trace. Now that he was back, Rhea felt the weight of uncertainty. She had to be cautious; after all, they were family. 

And as the saying goes.

She took another drink.

Rhea spotted Jey walk in from her desolate corner of the bar. He looked so out of place, wearing a black denim outfit with no shirt, a gold chain and a matching watch. He was easily noticeable, and Rhea worried he’d draw unnecessary attention to her. She hoped the haze of liquor and party favors swirling around them would keep the crowd distracted. 

The clubhouses hadn’t always looked like this; every member used to have a role to play in maintaining order. Now, with the new idiots in charge, she watched as the part of the quarters she had built on her fucking back transformed into dens of iniquity. She didn’t mind a bit of raunchiness herself, but the decline was glaring, and she was witnessing behaviors she wouldn't let stand in the name of the Judgment Day. 

It made her blood boil .

Her attention flicked back to Jey. 

He was scanning the room - was he looking for her? 

If he was, she was ready for anything. She’d go through anyone to find her best friend, even if it meant facing the right-hand man himself.

When his eyes landed on her, he started walking in her direction. She used her foot to push out the chair across from her. As Jey sat, he caught the bottle she slid toward him just before it tipped over the edge. He took a healthy sip before placing it back on the center of the table, and Rhea couldn’t help but notice the tension in his posture. 

He didn’t know her intentions either.

Good.

“Jey Uso,” she said, her voice steady as she met his gaze. 

“Rhea Ripley,” he replied, leaning back slightly. His gold teeth flashed when he spoke, catching the dim light of the bar.

“Well, what brings you here?”

He laughed lightly, a sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think I might have business with The Judgment Day.”

“Then you’re talking to the wrong woman,” Rhea nearly spat, her disdain evident. The thought of being associated with what they had become sickened her.

“What do you mean, you’re out?” Jey asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly taken aback.

“I’m out,” she said with a soft shrug, trying to maintain her composure despite the surge of anger inside her.

Jey glanced over his left shoulder, then his right, as if weighing his options. “You serious?” His tone was skeptical.

“As serious as a heart attack,” Rhea shot back, a hint of defiance in her voice. She watched him shift back in his seat, the gears in his mind turning as he tried to make sense of her words. 

She found herself doing the same alot lately.

“I was usurped by Finn, Dom, and…Liv…” Rhea hesitated, unsure if she should divulge more about her situation. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

Jey’s brow furrowed. “Liv? You mean blondie Liv? Little Liv?”

“Yeah, that Liv,” Rhea confirmed, her voice laced with bitterness. The mere mention of Liv’s name stirred a familiar anger within her. 

“Damn,” Jey replied, shaking his head. “I thought she had more sense than that. Guess I was wrong.”

Rhea chuckled lightly. It had been so long since she’d genuinely laughed. But the moment passed, and she quickly wiped the smile from her face.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of weight on your shoulders,” Jey said, a note of sympathy in his voice. “So you and Dom are…”

Rhea felt a flicker of annoyance but tempered it with a sigh. “Dead and done. He made his choice and…it wasn’t me, clearly.”

“And Damian?” Jey pressed, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern.

“He’s…he’ll be joining me shortly.” She held back details for her own safety, not wanting to reveal too much.

His brow lifted slightly. Rhea knew she needed to redirect this conversation; she needed to take control.

“Lots of questions for me, but you,” Rhea leaned forward, lowering her voice, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She watched Jey reach for his coat pocket, her heart racing. Tensing, her hand instinctively moved toward the knife strapped to her side. She slowly undid the clasp, resting her fingers on the cold metal handle, ready for anything.

Jey dropped a purple handkerchief on the table, his demeanor shifting as he leaned closer.

“Let me just give it to you straight, uce,” he said, his voice low and serious. 

Rhea could see the conflict on his face, the weight of his words. 

“I don’t want to be here. I hate the quarters, I hate the cities, and I fucking hate the gangs. And it’s still fuck the Bloodline.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Rhea replied quickly.

“I found this.” He tapped the handkerchief. “At the spot where my brother was taken. I don’t know what he was doing, I don’t know who he was dealing with, but this…” He pocketed the handkerchief, his expression grave. “This I know: these Judgment Day colors. I need answers, uce. Because I need to find my twin. I-” He sighed heavily. “I got him into all this and then I left him. This is the first spot I ran into, and I’m looking for anyone who might be involved. I’m really trying not to hurt nobody while doing it.”

Jey gestured toward her, signaling he was putting everything on the table. 

Rhea moved her hand away from her knife.

Just as she was about to respond, her attention was pulled away. The man she was looking for entered the bar, surrounded by what she assumed were his circle of cohorts. Three in total - she liked those odds. 

She whipped her head back to Jey.

“Okay.” She took another drink, steadying herself. “Damian isn’t meeting me here; he was taken too.” Sadness crept into her tone, betraying her usual toughness. “And that fuck who just walked in? I heard he knows something about where he’s being kept. So my plan is to beat the hell out of him and anyone who gets in my way.” Her voice was low, her gaze locked on Jey as she spoke through nearly gritted teeth.

“Then I’m going to blow this fucking dump up.” A smile broke through her facade at the thought of watching the club go up in flames. The idea of wrapping her hands around that man’s throat and choking the life from him was going to be absolutely cathartic.

Jey scratched his head, looking perplexed. “This place, you mean this one right here?”

“Yep.”

“How you plan on doing that?” He leaned forward, intrigued despite the gravity of the situation.

“With this.” Rhea casually pulled what looked to be a makeshift detonator from her pocket. A buzz emitted from it when she flicked the cap off, the glowing red button cutting through the dimly lit club. She quickly closed it, her eyes flicking back to her target. “I’m going to walk up to them and start breaking fingers until I get answers.”

“I’d highly suggest you head for the hills before I get done,” Rhea warned.

Rhea stood abruptly.

“Good luck with finding your brother and most importantly…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stay the fuck out of my way.”

She was about to walk away when she felt a gentle hand on her wrist. Normally, she would have turned and back slapped anyone for touching her, but she didn’t with Jey. 

She never did. 

She didn’t know why.

She turned to him, and he released her wrist, his expression earnest.

“This whole place is gonna to come at you, not just him and his crew, Rhea,” Jey said, his eyes flashing with concern.

“I’m counting on it,” Rhea replied. 

As Rhea walked away, she heard Jey harshly whisper her name, trying to get her attention, but she ignored him. Each step toward the goon made her angrier and angrier, her mind clouded by rage. By the time she reached him, she was nearly blind with fury. He leaned against the bar, flanked by three men who were clearly his backup.

Without hesitation, Rhea headbutted one of the men, sending him stumbling back, then delivered a swift kick to the groin of the second. Both men collapsed, groaning in agony. She drew back her fist and slammed it into her target’s face with as much force as she could muster. The impact cracked through the room like a gunshot, momentarily cutting through the music, and the man let out a guttural shout.

“Where the fuck is Damian?!” she demanded, her voice low and vicious.

“What the fuck? I—I don’t know! You broke my nose!” The man’s eyes bulged in shock, blood pouring down his face as he clutched at his shattered nose.

“Where the fuck is Damian?!” she repeated, leaning in close, her eyes burning with anger. She grabbed his hand and pinned his pinky against the bar. With a quick pivot, she brought her elbow down, snapping the finger with a sickening pop.

The man howled in pain, trying to punch her with his free hand. She blocked it with ease and then snapped his ring finger, his cries growing louder, pulling the attention of everyone in the clubhouse.

Suddenly, Rhea felt the atmosphere shift as a crowd of Judgement Day members began to close in around her. 

She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. 

Perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew. 

Then, out of nowhere, Jey sprang into action. 

Rhea watched as Jey sidestepped two approaching members before planting his foot into the side of one’s head - a sharp, solid thud that sent them both reeling.

As Jey stood tall, breathing heavily, the remaining Judgement Day members mobbed him all at once sweeping him into a fray of violence - fists and bodies slamming against one another. 

Rhea cursed under her breath, glancing at her target still bleeding from the nose. Without missing a beat, she plunged her knife deep into his thigh, twisting the blade slightly as blood began to pour from the wound. "Don’t go anywhere," she said with a wicked grin. "Not that you could." 

His scream filled the air as he slumped against the bar.

She turned her attention to Jey and without hesitation, she charged her fist aiming at anything moving.

Jey ducked a punch that flew toward his face, dropping smoothly into an empty chair in one fluid motion. The guy who swung at him stumbled forward, off balance. Using the table in front of him as leverage, Jey kicked his leg out hard, catching another attacker in the chest, sending him crashing into the crowd behind.

Before anyone else could react, Jey grabbed the first man who had stumbled by the collar and yanked him into a chokehold. Holding him there, he casually reached for a nearby drink, his fingers curling around a half-finished glass of liquor. 

With a cocky grin, he raised it to his lips. "You don’t mind, do you, uce?" he quipped, before taking a long swig.

As his opponent struggled to break free, Jey drained the glass, then without hesitation, slammed the empty glass into the man’s face. 

Rhea, meanwhile, was throwing elbows and knees, taking down opponents one by one. They were far from invincible, though. In the heat of the fight, she caught a beer bottle to the side of her head, the impact sending her reeling. Blood trickled from her scalp as she shook off the dizziness and lunged back into the fight.

Jey grunted as a knife slashed across his side - it didn’t slow him down. He instead lunged forward and sent a brutal uppercut to the chin of  the man who cut him.

Bruised, bloodied, and battered, Rhea and Jey stood back-to-back, still ready for more as the remaining attackers hesitated, unsure if they had the stamina to keep coming. Jey and Rhea however, fell into an unspoken rhythm - a brutal dance of fists and feet - until the last Judgment Day member crumpled to the ground. 

A sea of bodies lay around them now, some unconscious, others scrambling toward the exits in fear. 

Rhea’s chest heaved, her hands bloodied and bruised, and for a split second, she reveled in the silence. 

Then an alarm shattered the calm, blaring through the club. 

She knew that sound too well. 

She had set up the damn system herself.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. 

Someone had called for backup.

She shot a glance at Jey, who was still catching his breath, wiping blood from his brow.

“Aye, what’s that sound?” Jey asked, his gaze narrowing in concern.

“That’s the sound of backup.” 

“Backup?” Jey echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yeah, any moment now, this place is going to be crawling with them,” she said, her voice clipped as she started moving towards the downed goon, yanking her knife out of his thigh. His screams of pain intensified as blood poured from his wound.

Rhea slapped the man hard across the face to shut him up before pressing the knife against his throat.

"Now, what's this about you feeding Damian?" Her voice was sharp, her patience razor-thin. She pressed the blade just enough to let him know she meant business, a thin line of blood trickling down his neck.

“I already told you, I don’t know anything about Damian - " The goon’s excuses were cut short as Rhea pressed the knife harder.

“Okay, okay! Stop!” He whimpered. "I lied, alright? I never had that job - I just wanted to fit in, be cool, you know?”

Rhea's eyes narrowed and she pressed a little deeper, savoring his terrified reaction.

“Look, I swear, I didn’t do it,” he babbled. “But he is being held somewhere. They’ve got him locked up somewhere. Whatever he’s in - it’s mobile. They never keep him in the same spot. I overheard Dom bragging about it online, during a gaming session.”

Her hand tightened on the hilt of the knife. Dom . That piece of shit was playing games and flaunting his hostage, while Damian suffered. 

Jey, seeing her on the verge of exploding, crouched down to the goon’s level. His voice was softer, more composed. “Jimmy Uso - did he say something about him?”

The man looked woozy from blood loss, his eyes half-lidded. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Jimmy’s locked up right beside him.”

"Where are they?" she asked, her voice trembling with rage.

“I-I don’t know, okay? Somewhere up north, near Carlito’s new turf,” the man stammered. “That’s all I know, I swear!"

Rhea was about to press him for more, but when she looked to her side, Jey Uso was gone. 

She shook her head in disgust. Typical Bloodline behavior. Cowards, the lot of them . She turned her attention back to the goon.

“If you see any of them - Dom, Finn, Liv - you tell them I’m coming. And what I did to you? That’s a gift compared to what’s coming for them.”

She delivered a swift kick to his head, knocking him out cold, then turned toward the exit. The distant rumble of engines grew louder, and the sound of heavy boots hitting the pavement were unmistakable. 

Backup had arrived. 

As she stepped through the door, floodlights from a convoy of cars and trucks blinded her. She raised an arm to shield her eyes. She was surrounded, trapped, and the escape route to her bike was blocked.

Bullets peppered the ground just inches behind her with every frantic step, kicking up dust and debris in her wake. The staccato pops of gunfire echoing in her ears. Rhea’s heart raced, as she sprinted back toward the building, narrowly avoiding the deadly rain of bullets. 

Just as she darted toward the back exit, the roar of an engine filled the open air, and a car screeched to a halt in front of her. Jey Uso, behind the wheel, the backseat door nearest her wide open.

“Get in!” he shouted, urgency in his voice.

Rhea hesitated for a split second, her instincts warring with her uncertainty. 

Could she really trust him? 

Was this all a ruse ? 

She had no idea what Jey’s true intentions were, and trusting anyone in this world felt like a dangerous gamble. 

But with reinforcements closing in, she had no choice but to roll the dice with Jey Uso.

With a deep breath, she dove into the car, slamming the door behind her as Jey hit the gas. His tires screeched, kicking up dust as they sped down the road. The club disappeared behind them, but Rhea wasn’t done yet. 

She fumbled in her coat pocket, her fingers closing around the detonator. With one click, the explosion ripped through the night. The sound was deafening, the fire engulfed the building in mere seconds.

Rhea turned in her seat, and watched as the flames consumed everything they touched. 

A half-smile tugged at her lips. 

That one was for Damian. 

Jey glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. “You good, uce?”

Rhea leaned back in her seat, catching her breath. “Yeah,” she replied. “Drive up a little further, then pull over.”

“Pull over? Hell no. We don’t know what’s behind us.”

In a swift motion, Rhea darted from the back seat, pressing her blade to his chin. “Pull fucking over.”

Jey screeched to a halt, leaving the engine running, and scoffed. “I need you to get that knife out of my face, Rhea.” His tone was cool but firm.

Leaning closer, she kept the knife at his chin. She spoke closely by his ear, her lips grazing his skin. “Are you working with the Bloodline?”

“Fuck kind of question is that to ask me after all this?” He sounded slightly annoyed, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes.

“I don’t know who to trust,” she replied, her grip tightening on the knife. “I’ve told you so much… If you’re working with them, I’ll lose everything. I can’t afford to be unsure.”

“Look, Rhea, I told you what I was here for. Why would I go through all this with you?”

She paused, still holding the knife, her heart racing. 

“Rhea, I just want to find my brother. I don’t want any part in the Judgment Day business; I don’t give a damn about the Bloodline. This is my family. This is my blood. I’m out here because he’d do the same for me. I was born to protect my family, even when they not worth protecting. Even if they don’t want me, I’ll be there. And I wish I wasn’t hardwired that way, but here I fucking am. So I’m gonna ask you again: move the knife . From . My . Neck .”

He softened. “Please,” he said, his voice calmer now, quelling his earlier anger.

Rhea hesitated before finally lowering the knife. 

Trust was tentative, but it was there - for now. 

“Okay.”

“Okay. Damn,” he replied, rubbing his chin..

Silence settled in the car until Jey finally pulled off.

“So what’s next?”

Rhea sighed, glancing out the window. “I’m going to show you where I’ve set up base, and we’re going to see if we can make sense of all this.”

The car rumbled along as they drove in silence, making a few turns down a dark, wooded path. The trees seemed to swallow the road whole until they reached a small, hidden trailer off the beaten path. Jey killed the engine as Rhea opened her door, getting out and motioning for him to follow.

Jey quipped, “Maybe I should be asking you who you work for.”

Rhea laughed, shaking her head. “Yes, just your run-of-the-mill Bloodline-Judgment Day sleeper agent.”

“The way you were moving back there, I wouldn’t be surprised,” he shot back, smirking.

Rhea chuckled. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

Slipping past a few trees, she glanced back at him, raising her eyebrows playfully. “Down the rabbit hole you go, Alice.”

Jey hesitated a moment, watching her move effortlessly through the bush before following her. They walked in quiet, then Rhea broke the silence, explaining how she had found this abandoned place, making it her hideout while waiting for that asshole she roughed up. He had given her some decent intel, but she always wanted more.

When they arrived at the trailer, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, gesturing for Jey to enter ahead of her.

“Home sweet home,” she said flatly.

Inside, the place was run down - things were scattered about, some tactical gear, a few books - but the centerpiece was a large board plastered with pictures and notes, connected by red strings, leading back to the faces of Finn, Dom, JD, and Liv. It looked like a detective’s obsessive work, each line crisscrossing, converging in one central point: the betrayal.

Rhea secured the door behind them and headed toward the board. “I've been tracking everyone,” she explained. “Finn, Dom, JD, Liv. But Carlito? I didn’t see him coming. He’s another piece in this.”

Jey moved closer, eyes darting across the board as he tried to absorb the chaos of her investigation.

Rhea tapped her chin, then rifled through a pile of papers until she found a photo of Carlito. She pinned it to the board, drawing a line to the others. “Up north,” she muttered, “It’s not much to go on, but I could head up there and shake a few trees... or a few people.” Her voice was low, a dangerous edge to her tone.

Jey interrupted her thoughts. “You’re bleeding.”

“Comes with the territory,” she shrugged.

Jey cleared a counter, rummaging around until he found a minimal first aid kit. Rhea scoffed, protesting lightly as he lifted her by the waist, setting her on the counter.

“I’m fine - really,” she muttered.

But before she could resist too much, Jey was already dabbing at the cut on her forehead with a cloth. His touch was surprisingly gentle, soft enough that she found herself momentarily at ease.

“Look,” he began, “I know a lot just went down, but it seems like we’re heading in the same direction.”

He continued to tend to the wound, then blew softly on the spot to dry it. Rhea’s eyes fluttered shut briefly, the warmth of his breath against her skin sending a subtle, unexpected shiver down her spine. His closeness was disarming - intimate in a way she wasn’t used to.

Jey bent down, inspecting her knee where the fabric of her jeans had torn. He ripped it just enough to get to the wound and applied some salve, then blew gently on her knee, his focus on the task at hand as he spoke.

She gripped the edge of the counter, her throat tightening as she cleared it. 

His touch was so different from the world she lived in - soft and deliberate.

Once he finished applying the bandage, still kneeling, Jey looked up at her, sincerity in his eyes.

 “I think we should do this together. I know you like working alone, that’s clear. But I could have your back - if you have mine.”

Rhea locked eyes with him. There was no pretense in his offer, no hidden agenda. Just a man who had lost his brother and wanted answers as badly as she did.

“We can find Damian and Jimmy,” he added, his voice steady, “and then I’ll be out of your hair. Promise.”

Rhea snapped out of the moment, her guard instinctively going back up, though not as intensely as before. 

“Yeah, maybe,” she said, her tone defensive but lacking its usual bite. She hopped off the counter, her movements more calculated, as if trying to put some distance between herself and whatever she had just felt.

“I don’t trust easily, Jey,” she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, though the wall between them wasn’t as impenetrable as before. “But... maybe we can make this work. For now.”

It was the closest thing to an olive branch she could offer.

Jey grinned, clearly amused. “Oh so we cool now? Because I’d hate to be on your bad side,” he said, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed. “The way you were cracking skulls back there…”

He mimicked her movements from the club, throwing mock punches and exaggerated headbutts, even pretending to kick one of the goons in the groin. His playful impression wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to make Rhea chuckle despite herself.

“Like this, right?” he teased, pretending to bash someone over the head. “Or was it more like bam !” He gestured wildly, his grin widening as Rhea’s smile grew.

She shook her head, a genuine smile creeping onto her face again. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she laughed. But here she was. Smiling. Again.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Rhea smirked, watching him closely. But then, her eyes flickered to his side, noticing the dark stain spreading across his jacket. “You’re bleeding too.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she hopped down from the counter and moved toward him. She lifted the jacket off his shoulders, their faces just inches apart. The tension was palpable, a subtle charge in the air between them as they stood face-to-face.

Rhea broke the silence first, inspecting the wound. “You’re lucky,” she muttered, pulling out some alcohol and gauze.

Jey flinched when she dabbed at the wound, the sting biting harder than expected. She smirked. “Don’t be a baby.”

He chuckled through gritted teeth. “I’m not - just wasn’t expecting it to burn that much.”

Once she finished tending to the wound, they both stood back a little.

“So,” Jey said, breaking the moment, “Are we doing this together?”

Rhea paused but then nodded. “Until I find Damian.”

Jey held her gaze. “And until I find Jimmy.”

For a moment, neither moved, the tension mounting again as they stood so close. Rhea felt the weight of it, the pull - but she quickly broke eye contact, stepping back awkwardly, clearing her throat.

“You’ve got the couch,” she said briskly. “We move out in the morning.”

Jey nodded. “Where are we heading?”

“Up north,” she replied, regaining her focus. “I know a couple of clubs that way. We’ll stake them out. But we’ll have to tread lightly.”

Jey grinned. “Alright, partner.”

Rhea smirked, the word strange but somehow fitting. “Alright, partner.”

Chapter Text

Just as Rhea had said, they headed out at first light.

Jey wasn't used to the early morning movement, however. He usually spent his mornings nursing a dull headache, the remnants of another long night in some dimly lit bar, drowning his sorrows with cheap whiskey or sipping a beer to take the edge off the ache that came with bounty hunting. 

His work took him to the wildlands, the places far beyond the city limits where shady characters went to disappear. He knew the feeling well - the desire to vanish, to become a face in a nameless crowd. 

But a man had to eat, and each time he brought a fugitive back in cuffs, there was a strange satisfaction - a sliver of redemption. 

Maybe if he turned in enough of them, he wouldn't feel so guilty about his own face on the wanted posters in towns he dared not revisit. Maybe handing out beatdowns was a way to release his own pent-up anger. Or maybe, deep down, he knew fighting was the only thing he was good at.

Either way, it put money in his pocket and food in his belly.

And that was all a man really needed, he supposed.

Why dress up necessity as nobility?

He'd made sure Rhea had enough space for her gear in the back of his '71 Chevy Nova. She’d packed a duffle bag that looked ready to burst at the seams, along with a military-grade tactical box that had seen its share of rough days. Luckily, the Nova had a decent trunk, and he didn't mind making room for whatever Rhea deemed necessary for their trip. When he asked about the contents, she hadn’t answered. 

He chose not to press further. 

They’d driven through the morning into the heat of the day, taking backroads that kept them off the main routes, avoiding prying eyes. The desert stretched out like an endless, sun-scorched sea, the horizon shimmering under the midday sun. They were headed north, tracing a line up from the southern edges of the state, trying to find this Carlito character who Rhea had her sights on.

Leads were scarce, but the two of them would trust their instincts over a map any day. It was one of the few things they shared - an unspoken agreement that gut feelings beat directions.

They passed bullet-riddled way markers, each one a reminder that they were getting deeper into dangerous territory. Both of them were desperate to find their missing kin and leave the grim shadow of the Quarters behind.

Jey stole a glance at Rhea, slumped in the passenger seat, the wind from the open window gently lifting strands of her hair. She had drifted off, arms folded tight and legs pulled in, making herself as small as possible against the door. Her trench coat was wrapped around her like a shield, pulled up to her chin. She looked so different from the tough-as-nails persona she usually projected - a little more human, a little less invincible. 

He adjusted the radio, keeping the volume low so he wouldn’t wake her. Out here, all he could find were country stations, spinning the classics. He didn’t mind it - he had a soft spot for the old tunes. With a twist of the knob, Chuck Berry’s "Maybelline" crackled through the speakers. The music played a little louder than he intended, and he glanced at Rhea, hoping the sudden sound hadn’t stirred her.

Rhea had always been beautiful to Jey, in that wild, untamed way that was hard to define. Even during their respective gangs rivalries, he found himself thinking that she deserved better than the likes of Dirty Dom. He could never quite figure out what she saw in a guy like that - no real skills, couldn’t hold his own in a fight. Yet she stuck by him. She had his back, no questions asked. Jey couldn’t help but envy that kind of loyalty. 

He’d kill to have someone like that by his side.

His thoughts were cut short when the car shuddered abruptly, the steering wheel jerking in his grip. He cursed under his breath as the familiar wobble of a flat tire set in, the sound of rubber scraping against asphalt filling the silence.

Rhea jolted awake, startled by the rapid slowing of the vehicle. Her eyes snapped open, and Jey could see the frustration flaring in them as she mentally scolded herself for falling asleep. 

For getting comfortable - even for a moment. 

“What the fuck was that?” Rhea demanded, wiping sleep from her eyes and trying to snap herself back to full alertness.

Jey glanced over at her, already pushing his door open a crack. “Probably a flat,” he said, the annoyance in his voice barely masked.

“Shit,” Rhea muttered, sitting up straighter and brushing loose strands of hair from her face.

Jey stepped outside, scanning the situation before heading to the back of the vehicle. He popped the trunk and rummaged around until he unearthed the spare tire. As soon as he got a look at it, a string of curses slipped from his mouth. 

The spare was flat too.

He hefted the flat spare out of the trunk, letting the lid slam shut with a dull thud, and walked to Rhea's side of the car. 

“We're just too damn lucky, aren’t we?” Rhea remarked sarcastically, before stepping out and slamming the car door behind her. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she scanned the horizon in either direction, spotting a worn sign up ahead.

“Gas station’s that way,” she said, pointing. “We can make the walk.”

“We?” Jey raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Nah, you stay here. I’ll be quick.”

“Are you nuts? I’m not staying out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, with God knows who lurking around - daylight or not.” She gestured down the road. “I’m coming with you.”

Jey shrugged. “You’re the boss,” he conceded, realizing it was wiser to stick together. They couldn’t be sure what dangers might be behind them - or waiting up ahead. He watched as Rhea slid back into the car momentarily, rolling up the window, then locking and securing the door. She pulled a small pistol from her hip, checked it quickly, then concealed it again before turning back to him.

Jey noticed he was unarmed and smirked at her.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll keep you safe,” Rhea teased with a wink, her tone playful as she gestured for him to lead the way. “After you.”

Jey chuckled, finding her confidence amusing. 

He set the flat spare tire on the ground and crouched, rolling it along rather than carrying it the whole way to the gas station. The heat of the midday sun bore down on them, and before long, sweat dripped from both of their faces, soaking their clothes. 

He watched a lizard dart under a rock nearby, noting how even in the harsh desert, life persisted.

They walked in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts. After a moment, Jey decided it was as good a time as any to probe for more answers.

“So, any idea how this alliance between The Rock and the Judgement Day came to be? With Finn, Liv, and Dom?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Rhea shrugged, looking away when she spoke of her estranged gang. “Not sure,” she admitted, pausing to gather her thoughts. “Liv had been sniffing around for a while, but I didn’t think much of it. I noticed she and Finn, and Dom kept showing up in the same places - rumors started again, but I ignored them.” 

She glanced at Jey, then shrugged off her coat, draping it over her arm to escape the sweltering heat.

“Damian and I were just so damn focused on moving away from all the violence. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a bit of chaos, but what The Rock was asking for was...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “He wanted us to solidify a union by ransacking an entire city. I guess they were still loyal to Roman, even after he’d been run off, and The Rock wanted to stamp out any remaining resistance.”

She sighed, kicking a rock ahead of her, watching it skitter across the sand. “Then Solo came around, kept applying pressure. Damian and I weren’t fans of his ‘persuasion tactics’ either. He was messing with our supplies, encroaching on our turf, and playing both sides. Thing is, he was the one responsible for all the disruptions. He’d pull the strings in the shadows, then show up promising to 'handle' the troublemakers if we just ‘acknowledged him and the High Chief.’ Real slimy.” She rolled her eyes. “Damian and I got everyone together and said we were taking a stand. I was done playing nice, so we planned a strike.”

She kicked another rock, this one bouncing off the road and disappearing into the brush. “As soon as we confronted the New Bloodline, Finn, Liv, and Dom turned on us. Beat me and Damian senseless...” She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat as she remembered the pain of that day. “Damian did everything he could to protect me.” Her jaw clenched as her determination returned, eyes fixed on the distant road. “I made it out, but I’m the reason he’s captured now. The strike was my idea.”

She glanced sideways at Jey, guilt written all over her face. “He went along with it because... Damian...” A small, wistful smile tugged at her lips as she thought of her friend. “He’d go through hell and back with me. He’s the one person I can always count on. Knowing he’s alive at the very least... it keeps me going.”

A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of their choices pressing down on them as they walked. 

It felt like a burden neither could fully shake - a shared understanding of the cost of loyalty and the people they’d lost along the way.

“You probably don’t know this, but Roman and I...” Jey’s voice broke the silence, thick with emotion. He swallowed hard, as if saying Roman’s name might summon him. “We started the Bloodline. Man...” He licked his lips, the dry desert heat making them crack. “We carved a bloody path through these gangs.”

He paused, a bitter smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “We brought the Quarters to its knees, but Jimmy warned me - it wasn’t gonna end well.” Jey resumed walking, Rhea keeping stride beside him. “I convinced him to join us, and he did - him and Solo.” He hesitated, realizing that he had more than one brother to save, especially if Solo had become the cold-hearted enforcer Rhea described.

“I thought it was about family, but the thing is, the leader of ours... was,” he corrected himself, “is, a complete narcissist. We weren’t doing it for family.” Jey scoffed, wiping sweat from his brow. “We were doing it for him.”

The gas station finally loomed on the horizon, its weathered sign barely clinging to its rusted frame, but at least it was within reach.

“Everybody was in too deep when I finally woke up. But all this,” he gestured to the tire, the empty road, the sun beaming down on them, “all of this is on me - Jimmy being captured is on me. He wouldn’t be in this if I had never brought him in.”

Rhea listened quietly, then turned her head to face him, giving him her full attention as he spoke.

“I don’t know, maybe Jimmy was trying to stop Solo or something. And got himself tangled up with the Judgement Day.”

“Maybe?” Rhea mused, her tone thoughtful. “They have to be using them as leverage, maybe insurance - in case we ever came calling.”

Jey nodded, agreeing with her assessment. The thought of his brother being used as a bargaining chip gnawed at him, but he couldn’t deny that it made sense.

The conversation had pulled them from their thoughts, making the long walk to the gas station feel shorter. By the time they reached the rundown building, it felt like they had covered miles of unspoken history. The gas station was dilapidated but still operational - its windows caked with dust, the paint peeling, but the faint hum of a working generator could be heard somewhere inside.

Rhea moved to enter the gas station first, but Jey halted her, opting to go ahead himself. His expression shifted from their earlier conversation to one of high alert, his posture tensing as he scanned the surroundings. 

Rhea was taken aback - she always went in first with her crew, just in case they needed protecting. Being on the other side of that dynamic felt strange, and it showed in her expression. 

Jey peeked inside first, taking in the scene: half-empty shelves and a man behind the counter, looking a little slack-jawed and wary. Cool air hit Jey’s face as he stepped in further, realizing they had options - not only to get some supplies but also to put air in their spare.

After deciding it was clear enough, Jey entered fully, and Rhea followed behind him. She wandered off to explore the shelves, while Jey made his way to the counter. A polite smile spread across his face; he knew locals out here could scare easily. 

They just needed to keep things cool.

“Hot as hell out there, huh?” Jey said, trying to ease the tension that lingered in the man’s wary expression.

The clerk’s response was curt, his eyes shifting to the tire Jey had rolled in. “Air’s outside - 500 bucks, and I’ll run the pump.”

“Bullshit,” Rhea sing-songed from the back of the store.

Jey shot a quick glance in her direction but kept his focus on the clerk, trying to keep things calm. “For real?”

“You want it to be 1,000?” the clerk replied, a toothless grin spreading across his face. “You’re not in the city anymore. We make the rules out here.”

Jey kept smiling, but his fist clenched at his side. He didn’t like this guy’s attitude. 

He looked back and saw Rhea heading toward them, her arms laden with what nonperishables she could find. She dumped the items onto the counter, then headed back to grab two gallons of water. She swung her coat over her shoulder, then leaned over the counter, snatching a lighter and a pack of rolling papers, tossing them into the pile.

Lastly, she grabbed two cheap-looking cowboy hats from a nearby rack, placing one on her head and plopping the other on Jey’s. She unwrapped a lollipop from her pile and stuck it in her mouth, leaning in close to the clerk. “How much for all this? And we’re not paying fucking 500 dollars for air - so be reasonable.” She ended with a scowl. 

“Make it 600,” the man replied, his gaze lingering on Rhea with a sneer. “Because your gals got a slick mouth.”

“Excuse me - ” Rhea began, her temper flaring, but Jey interrupted her. He didn’t like the way this guy was looking at them, nor the way his eyes kept darting to his landline. 

He didn’t like any of this.

Jey adjusted the hat Rhea had put on his head and spoke up, trying to keep his tone light. “She’s got a point. Now, I’ve got a hundred for the air, and what’s all up here on the counter. Let’s call it even.” He forced a reassuring smile. “Let’s call it square.”

The man behind the counter narrowed his eyes, studying Jey’s face. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? Your kind don’t venture out here too often. And your face...” The man paused, licking his lips with a deceptive air. “Your face is not one I’d forget .”

Jey cleared his throat. The clerk wasn’t wrong - his face certainly carried a reputation.

“And you,” the man shifted his eyes to Rhea, his expression turning smug. “You look familiar too - little pale to be from around these parts. The way I see it, both of you are fish out of water, and I don’t take kindly to weirdos and freaks roving through my town, coming into my store making demands.”

Rhea looked ready to pounce, so Jey, again trying to keep the peace and maintain a low profile, slapped 300 dollars onto the counter.

“I think that makes us even,” he said, his voice low but firm, his eyes burning with restrained anger. He wanted this interaction over.

The man snatched the cash and pocketed it with a sneer. “Deal’s a deal. I’ll start the pump - make it quick, it’s another 300 to start it again.”

Rhea gathered the supplies in an old sack the cashier nearly threw at her, grabbed the water jugs and stepped out into the heat, with Jey following close behind. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the sneer he aimed at the clerk was barely disguised. Judging by the look on the man's face, he’d noticed.

Something felt off - Jey couldn’t shake the feeling that they needed to get out of here fast. He quickly filled the tire, and he and Rhea began their trek back to the car.

Jey broke the tense silence, trying to keep his voice calm. “You’ve got to learn how to keep your head. I know you’re angry, but that kind of shit’s gonna get us killed out here.”

“I think I know how to handle myself,” she shot back, practically hissing the words.

Jey shook his head. “How far out here have you been?”

“Far enough,” Rhea retorted, stubbornness hardening her tone.

Jey chuckled, amused despite the situation. “Not far enough - this ain’t the city. And you don’t have a crew.”

“I’ve got the right-hand man,” she fired back sarcastically. “Or so I thought. No, I’ve got glad-handing Jey Uso - who tucks tail from grocery clerks.”

Jey shook his head, brushing off the hard shot sent his way. “I’ve learned - I’m learning - how to channel my anger.” He reflected on how he used to be just like Rhea, driven by a fire that made him unstoppable. But it had taken a lot to humble him after such a run - back when people cowered at the mention of his name. Until he ventured into some places like this, where the echoes of his reputation didn’t carry the same weight, and people realized that, in the end, he was just a man like any other. 

And all men bleed.

“You’ve got to learn that everyone - and I mean everyone - is watching you. They’re watching how you walk, how you talk,” Jey said, his voice low but firm. He glanced over at Rhea, who had fallen a few steps behind him.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t really give a damn about being watched,” she shot back, pushing her hair out of her face. “I didn’t get this far worrying about what some local creep thinks.”

Jey smirked, shaking his head as he turned to face her. “You say that, but I see how you look at them - people like that guy in the store. You look at ‘em like you’ve got something to prove.”

Rhea stopped walking, her expression darkening. “Well where I’m from, you’ve got to show them before they show you.”

Jey stopped too, letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I get it. Hell, I’ve been there. But you know what I learned? The more you try to prove something to everybody else, the less you actually prove to yourself..”

Rhea’s eyes narrowed, searching his face as if she could find some sign of weakness there, some crack in the armor. “Oh, so now you’re some wise sage, huh? All that time at Roman’s feet taught you something deep?” She let the jab fly - she felt regret as soon as it landed. 

Jey’s expression hardened at the mention of Roman. He tilted his head, considering his next words carefully. “Maybe he taught me what not to do. When all you live for is control, you end up losing it in the worst ways.”

Rhea’s anger softened, curiosity creeping in. “So, what keeps you from losing control?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Books.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, the mockery creeping back into her tone. “Books? What, you sit in a library somewhere meditating on life’s big questions?”

Jey cracked a small grin, looking over at her as they resumed walking. “Somethin’ like that. They helped me when I didn’t know where else to look. It’s not about hiding from the anger. It’s about figuring out where it comes from and what to do with it.”

They walked in silence for a few moments. Rhea gnawed on her thoughts, the sucker rolling back and forth in her mouth. Finally, she muttered, almost too quietly for Jey to hear, “I’ve never had time for that kind of stuff. Never thought it’d be worth anything.”

Jey shot her a sidelong glance. “You’d be surprised. You might find something you didn’t know you were looking for.”

Rhea scoffed lightly, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. “Yeah, like what?”

He slowed his pace, turning to look her square in the eye. “Like a reason to be more than just mad all the time.”

Rhea didn't respond immediately, the words sinking in as they reached the car. Jey plopped the spare tire down before crouching to inspect the flat. He dug into the trunk, found the car jack, and began cranking it up.

Still crouched on the ground, Jey called to Rhea, ‘Can you grab the tire iron?’”

Rhea walked over to the trunk, placing her newly purchased supplies inside and rummaging through the mess until she found the tire iron - and accidentally revealed Jey’s stash of self-help books hidden in the back. 

She chuckled, picking up the tire iron along with one of the books. Hiding the book behind her back, she handed the tire iron to Jey. He began to twist off each lug nut until the rim was loose, while Rhea leaned against the car nearest him and revealed the title she had snagged. “Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning.”

“You really believe in this stuff? I mean, come on, Jey, seriously?” she remarked, thumbing through the book’s worn pages.

Jey shifted, removing the busted tire and fastening the spare into place. “Yeah, I do. It may seem silly, but I’ve learned a lot from that ‘stuff.’”

“Oh, really?” She flipped through a few pages as he secured the spare. When she found a passage, she began to read aloud, “ ‘Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.’ ”

She paused, letting the words linger before brushing them off with a scoff. Jey, finishing his work, rose up to where Rhea was leaning against the car. He was close, so close she could see the sweat on his brow trailing down to his throat.

There was that tension again. 

Rhea plucked the sucker from her mouth, a bit of attitude slipping into her voice. “So, what’s the lesson in that? Turn over and show your belly, like a coward?”

Jey stepped closer into her space, not even realizing how magnetic the pull between them was. “It means, at least to me, that my anger is a loaded gun,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers. 

This time, she didn’t look away. 

“I can take my rage, and I can take a shot at anything moving, blowing away everything and everyone until I get what I want. Or…”

“Or?” Her eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips, then back again.

“I can learn the art of shooting and, with precision, aim my anger at those that wish to do harm to the ones I love. Take them down without hurting anyone else. Disciplined. Controlled.”

He glanced down at the sucker she’d been holding, then leaned forward, taking it into his mouth - savoring the taste, the stem still in her hand. He pulled away with it, “I choose control.”

Rhea cleared her throat, pressing the book against his chest with a soft thud. She played him off with a joke. “Well, what other life lessons does Conf uce ius have to offer?”

Jey laughed, a genuine, deep laugh with the sucker tucked into his cheek. “You’re funny as hell,you know that?”

They lingered there for a moment, Jey nearly chest to chest with her, her back pressed against the vehicle. Neither moved away. 

Then suddenly  a worn-down cop car rolled into view, its frame creaking under the strain of the desert heat. The paint was faded, chipping along the edges, revealing rust underneath. The lights on top flashed in muted red and blue, the plastic casing cloudy and cracked, as if it hadn’t been maintained in years.

Its engine growled as it rolled to a slow crawl behind their car, the sun glinting off the splintered windshield. 

The siren remained off, but the lights spun with a dull urgency. 

Jey knew that this wasn’t a random encounter. 

He knew that man at the store had something to do with this. 

He clenched his jaw, watching the cop car as it settled into place, engine still rumbling.

Rhea felt it too. A prickling unease crept up her spine, her instincts screaming that something was off. She glanced at Jey, catching the tension in his posture and the hard set of his jaw. 

“What do you think they want?” Rhea whispered, her voice tight with unease.

Jey didn’t respond immediately; his eyes were locked on the cop car that had rolled to a stop behind them. He knew there were no upstanding laws in this place, and this situation was bound to lead to trouble.

“I don’t know, but Rhea…” He caught her eyes, speaking earnestly. “Stay. Cool.”

Jey stepped away from her and moved toward the front of the vehicle, but a voice from the car's PA system froze him in place. “Stay where you are and keep your hands in sight.” It was a feminine voice, unexpected and cold.

Rhea, her body still obscured from their view, kept her hand near her concealed pistol, ready to draw. 

“Both of you, step to the passenger side of the vehicle - slowly,” the voice commanded, more forceful now.

Rhea hesitated but eventually relaxed her grip on the gun. She and Jey complied, keeping their hands up, palms facing out at waist level.

Out of the cop car stepped a short blonde woman in what resembled a cop uniform, accompanied by a tall, solidly built brunette male. The blonde casually looped her thumbs through her belt loops as she approached, while the man kept his hand visibly close to his gun. 

They walked toward Jey and Rhea, close but keeping a deliberate distance. Jey noticed they didn’t have real badges - just patches on their uniforms that read American Made . Instantly, he was on alert. They weren’t actual law enforcement; this was a gang, playing dress-up in a lawless land, enacting their version of “justice.”

The blonde spoke first, her voice laced with a smug authority. “Officer Ivy Niles,” she pointed at her counterpart. “And this is Officer Brutus Creed.” She plucked off her sunglasses, her expression unreadable. “Address us as Officer Niles and Officer Creed, respectively.”

Jey nodded cautiously, while Rhea rolled her eyes.

Officer Niles smirked, sizing them up before speaking. “What are you two doing out here?”

Jey kept his tone measured, calm. “We had a flat, it’s fixed, and we’re moving on - now.” He kept his voice respectful, trying to defuse the situation.

Brutus, eyes narrowed, cut in. “Where exactly are you heading?”

Rhea crossed her arms defiantly, shooting back, “That’s none of your damn business.”

Ivy’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Watch your tone, sweetheart,” she snapped, shifting her attention back to Jey. “It becomes our business when locals are calling us, saying they’re being strong-armed and threatened over their prices.”

Brutus chimed in with a sneer, “It’s a free market and a free country.” His voice dripped with self-righteousness, clearly convinced of his own authority.

Ivy took a step closer. “We need to search you both - and the vehicle.”

Jey kept his hands visible, shaking his head slightly. “That shouldn’t be necessary; we’re clearing out - ”

Before he could finish, Brutus suddenly unsheathed a baton and slammed it into Jey’s stomach, doubling him over knocking the hat from his head. “Stop resisting,” Brutus growled.

Rhea’s voice rose, anger cracking through. “What the hell, man?” She reached for her concealed weapon, but Ivy drew her gun, aiming it squarely at Rhea.

Jey was on his knees from the gut shot, trying to catch his breath. Brutus glanced at Ivy. “Call for backup. The commander’s definitely gonna want to check this out.”

Before they could move further, another cop car appeared, kicking up dust as it slid to a stop. Out stepped a shorter, muscle bound man and another tall, powerfully built brunette. They approached the scene, the shorter one taking the lead, stepping in front of Jey and lifting his chin roughly.

“Officer Chad Gable,” he said, his voice dripping with mock courtesy, “and this,” he gestured to the taller man, “is Officer Julius Creed.” He spat a wad of dip onto the cracked asphalt, the brown liquid sizzling in the sun. “Now, what are you doing out here, threatening my town folk and stirring up trouble, Jey Uso?”

Jey didn’t answer, his jaw clenched, which earned him a swift backhand from Julius. “You answer when spoken to,” Julius barked.

Rhea made a sudden move, intending to fight back, but Brutus quickly caught her, locking her in a headlock. She struggled, but his grip tightened.

Jey couldn’t let that stand. “Hey, I think your issue’s with me - leave her alone, alright?” he said, his voice strained but steady.

Chad spat again, a smirk twisting his lips. “Damn right my issue’s with you. You’re wanted in the following cities - ” He listed several towns in the quarters before rattling off a series of Jey’s alleged offenses.

Jey felt a cold weight settle in his chest. They’d done their homework.

Chad’s smirk widened. “He’s coming with us. And let me tell you, of all the people interested in finding you, Jey, I know a guy who’s really eager for a reunion.”

As the officers turned their focus back to securing Jey, he used the moment to discreetly drop his car keys into the dust, hoping Rhea would notice. She’d need a way out.

Chad glanced over at Rhea. “Let her go. She’s useless to us.”

Rhea fought against Brutus’s grip but was finally released. She stumbled forward, demanding, “Where are you taking him?”

Ivy chuckled, holstering her gun. “Downtown, where all the lowlife scum rots.”

Jey was roughly shoved into the back of Chad’s car, cuffed and restrained. Before they closed the door, he turned to Rhea, his expression desperate but determined. “Get out of here, Rhea - don’t look back.”

The officers made a quick U-turn, leaving Rhea in a swirling cloud of dust, standing alone in the dry, unforgiving landscape. Jey was gone, headed straight for a holding cell, and she was left with a sinking feeling, unsure of her next move. Her supposed partner in crime was being carted off, and now she had a choice to make: move on and continue her mission, or find a way to get him back.

Jey awoke in a small, isolated cell, his wrists bruised and sore where the cuffs had bitten into his skin. Dried blood clung stickily to the corner of his eye, a reminder of the rough treatment he’d endured. He winced as he covered his eyes with his hand, shielding them from the glaring fluorescent light overhead that only worsened the throbbing headache pounding through his skull.

He sat up slowly on the thin, worn mattress that served as his bed, his back and stomach aching from the blows he’d received for “noncompliance.” He cradled his head in his hands, trying to focus through the haze of pain and exhaustion. Thoughts of Rhea flitted through his mind - he hoped she’d found a way out, heading north, far away from this mess. Then he thought of what mess she was possibly moving towards.

But there was no escaping the weight of his own situation. His past clung to him like a shadow, relentless and inescapable. He thought bitterly of the charges stacked against him - he couldn’t even remember half of them, but he was sure they weren’t far from the truth. He had lived hard, reckless, and he knew there were plenty of people who would be happy to see him rot in a cell.

A sudden loud bang on the metal bars snapped him out of his thoughts. Brutus, baton in hand, smirked as he rapped the bars again, clearly enjoying himself. “You got a visitor.”

Jey slowly rose to his feet, glaring at Brutus. Before he could ask any questions, Brutus and Julius entered the cell, each grabbing one of his arms roughly. They half-dragged him down the dim, sterile hallway until they reached the prison visitation booth. It was outdated - a bulletproof glass window divided the booth, with an old-school landline phone on each side.

Jey scanned the empty seat across from him, a frown creasing his brow. He wondered who would bother coming to see him in a place like this. 

Was it Rhea? 

He hoped it wasn’t. 

She had enough trouble of her own. 

He barely had time to think before three familiar faces loomed into view on the other side of the glass: Jacob Fatu and the Tongans, grinning like jackals. Jey’s expression twisted into a scowl at the sight of them, anger burning in his eyes.

But then Solo Sikoa stepped forward, his imposing frame casting a shadow over the others. Solo’s presence seemed to shift the energy in the room - more controlled, less showy. He looked at Jey through the glass, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but there was something else there too - something harder to read.

Jacob made a show of wiping off the seat and the phone on the other side of the glass, taking his time as if savoring the moment. Solo waited patiently, watching his brother with a bemused expression. When Jacob was satisfied, he handed the freshly cleaned phone to Solo, who accepted it with a nod of appreciation and sat.

Solo lifted the phone to his ear, his gaze never leaving Jey’s. He tapped a finger against the glass, gesturing for Jey to pick up the receiver on his side. Jey hesitated, but then he reached out, picking up the receiver with a weary sigh, pressing it to his ear as Solo’s smirk grew into a full smile.

For a moment, they just stared at each other through the glass. Whatever this visit was about, Jey knew it wasn’t good - but he couldn’t quite shake the faint glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, Solo was here for peace.

“Little bro,” Jey greeted him, his voice warm despite everything.

“Brother,” Solo responded, his voice a sharp hiss.

Jey searched Solo’s eyes, looking for any trace of the kid he once knew - the one he practically raised. 

But the warmth was gone, replaced by a steely coldness.. 

Solo looked different, too - sharper, more commanding. 

He wore a sleek black suit, the dark fabric offset by a bright red handkerchief neatly folded into his breast pocket. A thick gold chain glinted against the collar of his black shirt, catching the light as he shifted. 

He exuded a confidence that felt alien, like a man fully aware of his own power.

Behind Solo stood his entourage - Jacob Fatu and the Tongans, all clad in black and red, matching gloves stretching tightly over their hands. 

Jacob’s bronze grill flashed when he leaned in close to the glass, a metallic smirk that made Jey’s skin crawl. They looked like a gang of enforcers, a uniformed wall of muscle behind the so-called Tribal Chief.

“You don’t look so good, brother,” Solo said, half-mocking, a smirk playing on his lips as he gestured toward Jey’s bruised face and swollen eye. “Rough night?” He laughed, clearly reveling in the sight of Jey.

“So, you were behind all this?” Jey motioned to the prison around him, his expression hardening as he eyed the uniformed guards outside.

“No, this?” Solo gestured around dismissively. “This is happenstance. You see, my reach as the Tribal Chief... it’s expansive, Jey. I own everything your eyes fall on.” He adjusted the gold chain around his neck as he spoke.

Jey scoffed, leaning closer to the glass. “Could’ve fooled me, cause’ last I heard, you answer to The Rock now.”

Solo’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly. “We’re partners . He acknowledges me ,” Solo snapped, his voice tinged with bitterness.

“Yeah, I bet he acknowledged Roman too - and look where that got him. He’s not to be trusted.” Jey’s eyes darted to Jacob and the Tongans standing behind Solo, their faces impassive but threatening. “And neither are they. You dragged them in? For what? You know why we stayed away from them. They’re always up to no good, and you... what, betray the family for them?”

Jey’s anger flared, his voice rising as he hopped up from his seat, pacing in the small space. “Speaking of... where the hell is Jimmy ?!”

Solo’s eyes flashed with irritation. “You’re the last person who can talk about betrayal - where were you when everything went down, huh ? They’re here for me , they acknowledge me , and Jimmy ? He didn’t, so he’s where he needs to be until he comes to his senses.”

Jey shook his head in disbelief, desperation leaking into his voice. “Tell me he’s okay, man.”

Solo adjusted the phone, holding it between his neck and shoulder, a smug expression creeping onto his face. “He’s fine.” He snapped his fingers, and Jacob stepped forward, holding up his own phone to the glass. 

Jey’s heart sank as he saw the video playing on the screen - Jimmy, being beaten mercilessly by the Tongans. Though he couldn’t hear the sound, the image of his brother writhing in pain was enough to bring a fresh wave of rage surging through him.

Jey looked away, his breath hitching, rage building in his chest like a wildfire. He tried to think of the calming quotes he’d memorized, tried to center himself, but all he found was an overwhelming urge for violence - a red haze that threatened to take over. He let the phone drop, clutching his head as the headache from earlier pounded even harder.

With shaky hands, he picked up the receiver again and pressed it to his ear, his voice strained. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he looked back at Solo. “Solo, how could you do this to us?”

“Do this to us ?” Solo mocked, imitating Jey’s emotional tone with a sneer. “I’m not doing this to us - you are! You left. Roman was weak, and now Jimmy’s been infected with that same weakness. He needs to be cleansed. You all must acknowledge me to make this right.”

“You’re destroying the family,” Jey shot back, struggling to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Destroying?” Solo scoffed, his voice rising. “I’m saving this family.” His eyes blazed with intensity as he stared down his brother. “You should be proud of me. You should be saying, ‘Lil bro, I acknowledge what you’re doing. I acknowledge the leverage you’ve brought to this family and our name.’” Solo’s voice wavered for a split second, emotion slipping through before he hardened again. “Little brother, I acknowledge you as Tribal Chief.”

Jey let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. His gaze slowly met Solo’s, filled with contempt. “I don’t acknowledge anyone as Tribal Chief. And that stuff? It’s over , Solo.”

Solo raised a hand to quiet a riled-up Jacob Fatu and sighed. “Then you won’t see Jimmy. I’ll be back in three days time.” He held up three gloved fingers, his expression cold. “After you’ve spent a little time in gen pop, maybe you’ll change your mind.”

Jey leaned closer, eyes blazing with fury. “Don’t bother coming back, Solo, because let me be clear uce  - when I see you again. It’s . Gon’ . Be . Different .”

With each word, Jey smashed the phone’s receiver into its holster, the plastic cracking under the force until the receiver shattered. 

Solo laughed, feigning fear, but the tension in the room was palpable as Jey’s rage threatened to boil over. Julius and Brutus moved in to restrain him, but Jey broke free, landing brutal blows that sent them stumbling back. His breath came in ragged gasps as he turned on the glass, slamming his fists against it with all his strength. 

The glass held firm, but it shuddered with each impact, enough to make Solo take a step back.

Before Jey could strike again, Ivy appeared behind him, taser in hand. She fired without hesitation, and Jey’s body convulsed, collapsing to the ground with a sickening thud. She kept the current running until he was completely still.

On the other side of the glass, Chad Gable approached, a smirk on his lips. He glanced at the briefcase Jacob and the Tongans had brought, checking its contents - stacks of cash, neatly packed. Satisfied, he looked back at Solo with a greedy grin. “A deal’s a deal.”

Solo nodded. “Just make sure he gets some sense knocked into him while he’s here. But don’t take Jey lightly - he’s more dangerous than you think.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of Chad’s mouth as he glanced over the briefcase, satisfied with its weight. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep him in line.”

Solo turned, leading his entourage down the dimly lit corridor, their black and red outfits blending seamlessly into the shadows. 

As Solo reached the door, he cast one last look over his shoulder at the visitation booth. His eyes caught on the bulletproof glass that Jey had pounded on moments earlier. He noticed a hairline fracture - a splinter, barely visible, but there. 

A reminder of the force behind Jey’s rage, the crack was small yet defiant, and Solo’s confident smirk faltered for just a moment. 

Chapter Text

The icy blast of water from the high-pressure hose hammered against Jey’s body, every drop biting into his skin.

He stood tall.

He refused to show any sign of discomfort.

Jey’s focus was elsewhere. He knew this was a game, a power play, and he wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

His muscles remained taut.

His face, unreadable.

But inside, inside, his thoughts were far from the jeering guards.

He thought of Jimmy.

The image of his brother flashed in his mind, beaten and bloodied in the video Solo had shown him. It had gutted him to see Jimmy like that, writhing under the hands of those monsters.

Jey clenched his jaw against the rising anger in his chest.

But Jimmy was tough.

Just like him.

Still, how much more could he take?

Jey didn’t know where Jimmy was or what Solo’s next move would be, but he swore to himself he’d find out.

had to.

Jimmy needed him.

But then, unbidden, his thoughts shifted - this time to her.

Rhea.

Jey tried to shake her from his mind, but it didn’t work.

He pictured her.

She was strong.

And smart.

Everything.

He.

Shouldn’t.

Care.

About.

In.

The.

Middle.

Of.

All.

This.

Yet, he couldn’t stop himself.

He wondered if she was okay.

If she was moving forward with her plan to find Damian.

If she was safe.

Jey shoulders tightened under another cold blast of water.

It wasn’t his job to worry about her.

He smirked.

She didn’t need anyone’s help, least of all his.

But still.

He hoped she’d find Damian.

And deep…

…down.

He hoped she’d find Jimmy too.

That she’d look after him if Jey couldn’t.

Rhea was dangerous to him.

Not because of her strength.

Or her sharp tongue.

But because of the way she lingered…

on his mind…

Even now.

In this hellhole.

Jey shook his head slightly, willing the thoughts away as the guards barked another order. He straightened his stance, his defiance unbroken, and forced his focus back to the present.

He needed to survive this.

For Jimmy.

For…whatever came next.

From behind the metal railing overlooking the cleansing area, Chad Gable stood with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on Jey. Beside him, Ivy Niles leaned casually against the railing, her expression a mix of smug amusement and calculation. The Creed brothers loomed nearby, their towering forms silent but intimidating.

Ivy tilted her head as she watched Jey. “You know,” she drawled, loud enough for Chad to hear over the roaring water, “We could get a hell of a price for him. Sell him to the slavers. They’d pay top dollar for someone like him, strong, fairly young. A real prize fighter.”

Chad’s head snapped toward her, his expression cold and cutting. “Do I look like I run a sideshow, Ivy?”

She raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his tone. “I’m just saying. You always talk about maximizing profits. A bird in the hand…”

“...Is worth two in the bush,” Chad interrupted sharply, stepping closer to her, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. “And you know what’s worth more than that bird? An alliance with the New Bloodline. You think slavers are a cash cow? You think a quick payday means anything in the long game?”

Ivy opened her mouth to retort, but Chad cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Stop thinking small, Ivy. American Made doesn’t play for petty scraps. We think BIG.”

He punctuated the last word with a sharp snap of his fingers, glaring at her until she glanced away, chastened.

He turned to the Creeds, who were standing silently. “And that goes for you two as well. I don’t pay you to think - I handle that department. Got it?”

The Creed brothers exchanged a glance but nodded in unison.

Chad exhaled, smoothing down the lapels of his uniform. “Solo’s a man of power. He’s already got the Judgement day and the Samoan hit squad under his thumb. You think he’s gonna overlook us if we do what he asks? No. He’s gonna owe us. And do you know what that means?”

He didn’t wait for a response, his voice rising with authority. “It means influence. It means we don’t just skim the pot; we are at the table. You want to waste that opportunity for some pocket change from slavers? Be my guest. But don’t come crying to me when you’re licking boots for the rest of your miserable lives.”

Satisfied, Chad lingered as the cleansing process ended. Jey stood motionless under the spray, his body gleaming with water. Despite the rough treatment, there was something unyielding about Jey’s presence, a defiance that even the harsh cleansing couldn’t wash away.

Chad smiled, a cold, calculating grin. “That,” he said, pointing down at Jey, “Iis our ticket to the big leagues. Solo’s gonna see how we’ve handled this, and he’ll reward us. Mark my words.”

As the guards hauled Jey away, Chad gestured for Julius to hand him a phone. He dialed quickly. “It’s me,” Chad said smoothly. He listened for a moment, his smirk growing as the voice on the other end confirmed the arrangements. “Make sure his cellmate is… the one we discussed.”

There was a pause, the voice on the other end clarifying something. Chad’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Exactly. Put them together. Trust me. Let’s see how Mr. Uso handles a little stroll down memory lane.”

Ivy caught the tail end of his conversation and shot him a curious look as he ended the call. “Who’s the cellmate?” she asked.

Chad turned to her. “Ivy, Ivy, Ivy… you’re too nosy for your own good. But I’ll tell you this - it’s not about who the cellmate is. It’s about what putting them together does. There’s history there. Resentments. Old wounds that haven’t fully healed.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a psychological game, Ivy. American Made doesn’t just break bones - we break spirits. That’s how you control someone.”

Chad didn’t linger, striding away with a self-satisfied air as the guards roughly dressed and escorted Jey through the bowels of the prison. Around them, the noise swelled. A cacophony of jeers and promises of violence cascading down from the cells.

“Hey, Jey, you owe me some teeth, ‘member?!”

Jey’s head snapped toward the sound of that voice. From one of the dimly lit cells, a man clung to the bars, grinning wide. Several gaps marred his smile where teeth used to be, leaving grotesque, dark spaces. The memory came back clearly - a bar fight years ago. The man had said something out of line, and Jey had responded with his fists.

The sound of teeth cracking and the spray of blood had stayed with him.

The man cackled, running his tongue over his gums. “You think I forgot, Uso? You think I ain’t been waiting for this day?”

Jey didn’t respond.

“You remember me, right? We still got unfinished business!” Another voice chimed.

“Gonna carve my name into your hide, Uso!” Then another.

Jey kept walking, his expression set. When he finally reached his new cell, the guard shoved him inside with enough force to make him stumble. The bars slammed shut behind him, and Jey tested them with a hard pull before stepping further inside.

The dim light revealed a bunk bed, a thin mattress, and his cellmate sitting on the edge, cloaked in shadow. Jey mentally mapped the space, calculating his options if a fight broke out.

The figure moved, standing slowly. As he stepped into the dim light, his sharp blue eyes and red beard came into view. The corners of his lips twisted into a smirk.

“Whatcha in for, uce?”

Jey’s eyes widened in recognition. “Sami?”

The smirk on Sami Zayn’s face widened into a grin. Jey didn’t hesitate; he surged forward, wrapping Sami in a tight hug. The two men clapped each other on the back, a bond forged through years of betrayal, redemption, and brotherhood reasserting itself in their small, dingy cell.

Jey pulled back, still grinning. “Man, what the hell are you doing here?”

Sami shrugged, his tone light. “Oh, you know, the usual. Pissed off the wrong people, rattled some cages - next thing I know, here I am. Guess trouble follows me.”

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds about right, Sami sounds about right.”

Sami’s grin softened, turning into something more thoughtful. “Yeah, well... trouble doesn’t just follow me. Sometimes, I follow it. And you, uce? You’ve got trouble written all over you.”

Jey laughed, but it was short-lived. The shouts from the other inmates hadn’t stopped - they’d grown louder, meaner, feeding off the energy in the air.

“Better watch your backs. We’re coming for both of you!”

“First the Samoan, then the redhead. Y’all gonna wish you never stepped foot in here!”

Jey glanced at Sami in disbelief. “They crazy as hell in here.”

Sami leaned back against the bunk, crossing his arms casually. “Yeah, it’s not exactly the Four Seasons uce. But hey, at least you’ve got me as a roommate.”

Jey turned back to him, smiling. “Yeah, and how’s that supposed to help?”

Sami’s grin returned. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I can talk our way out of trouble. Charm them a little, maybe throw in a few dad jokes.”

Jey smacked his lips and shot Sami a side eye . “Man Sami, be for real.”

“Hey,” Sami said, pointing a finger at himself, “this guy has gotten you out of worse situations.”

Jey couldn’t argue with that. Despite everything he felt a flicker of something unexpected - relief.

He wasn’t alone.

His relief quickly dissipated. This didn’t feel right. Jey folded his arms, his tone sharp.

“All right, Sami. Trouble finds you, I get that. But ending up in the same cell as me? In this place? That ain’t no coincidence uce.”

Sami rubbed his beard, his sharp blue eyes darting briefly to the bars before settling on Jey. His voice was quieter now, almost cautious. “It’s not like I planned this, uce,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I was heading up north, looking for…” He paused, lowering his voice before speaking the name. “Cody.”

“Cody Rhodes?” Jey’s brows furrowed. “Why Cody?”

Sami hesitated, the pause stretching just long enough to feel unnatural. Jey caught the flicker of surprise in Sami’s expression, like he was shocked Jey didn’t already know why someone would be seeking Cody. Sami quickly masked it. “I had my reasons,” he said finally, his tone careful. “But before I could get to him, these goons caught me. They worked me over pretty bad before dumping me in here.” He touched his ribs with a grimace, though it was hard to tell if the pain was real or for show. “Don’t think Solo’s got anything to do with it, though.”

Jey’s eyes narrowed. “I never mentioned Solo, uce.”

Sami froze for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Jey to notice, before plastering on a quick, unconvincing smirk. “Come on, Jey,” Sami said, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite land. “It’s not exactly a leap, is it? Solo’s always got his hands in something.”

"Yeah, he does," Jey said. He paused, as if weighing his every word. "He's the reason I’m in here right now."

There was a hesitation in his tone, he wanted to question everything, but also something deeper, something softer, wanting to believe, to trust…anyone right now.

Jey glanced away briefly. "I was heading up north too, looking for Jimmy. Some Judgement Day idiot said he was being held, and Solo confirmed it." His voice was shaky, as if the words didn’t quite fit with the desperate wish to believe that things could still be fixed, that he could still count on his blood.

"I guess American Made’s in bed with the New Bloodline now, and Solo - he visited me in here. Said he’d be back in three days’ time. They showed me him, man. They." Jey’s voice dropped at the end and he rubbed his jaw fighting the tears creeping into his eyes.

Sami wrapped Jey into a hug, trying to anchor him, trying to remind him that, no matter what, he wasn’t alone.

Jey clapped Sami’s back, breaking the embrace. “I’m good, I’m good, uce.”

Sami grinned. “You’re ruining my tough prison persona, Jey.”

Jey chuckled, his suspicion had eased but it was quickly replaced by genuine curiosity. He took a step back and met Sami’s eyes. “Seriously though, why Cody?”

Sami looked like he was about to answer when a deafening siren cut through the air. The sound echoed off the walls, harsh and grating, followed by the grinding of heavy locks.

Jey’s attention snapped to the cell door as it swung open with a loud clunk. He could hear more doors opening up and down the row, the noise mixing with the growing buzz of inmates moving into the corridors.

Sami stepped forward, resting a hand lightly on Jey’s shoulder. “It’s rec time,” he said simply, his voice steady but laced with something Jey couldn’t quite place.

“We stay tight. Watch each other’s backs.”

Sami smirked. “Back to back. Like old times.”

The two moved into their familiar handshake - a series of quick, practiced claps that ended with a shoulder bump - but Jey didn’t miss the flicker of hesitation in

Sami’s movements. It was subtle, but it was there.

Something about Sami felt...off.

They stepped into the crowded corridor, the din of shouting and jeering prisoners crashing over them like a wave. The guards barked orders from the edges, their presence doing little to quell the rising tension. Jey stayed close to Sami, his eyes scanning the faces around them.

As they moved toward the recreation yard, Sami spoke, his tone light. “You’ve gotta admit, Jey, it’s kind of nice to have a familiar face in all this mess.”

Jey smiled but when he glanced away a flicker of doubt surfaced. “Sure is uce, sure is.”

Rhea had snagged the keys the moment Jey got hauled away. It wasn’t ideal - she didn’t like leaving him behind, but she couldn’t afford to waste time. She had to find Damian, and every second counted.

Sure, having a partner made the grind less lonely, but things went sideways all the time in their line of work.

Jey was resourceful; he’d manage.

She told herself that over and over, even as guilt clawed at the edges of her mind.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white. Jey was one of the rare ones - clever, kind, and genuine in a way that most men simply weren’t. He had that rare quality of meaning what he said, a trait she hadn’t seen in anyone since Damian.

The car screeched to a halt.

Rhea smacked the wheel with the flat of her palm and swore.

This was reckless.

Stupid, even.

What was she going to do?

At best, she might get Jey out. At worst, she’d wind up in a full-blown war with some gang.

And given her track record, that was exactly the kind of shit she’d stumble into.

“Go on, Rhea,” she muttered to herself, her voice sharp. “Put your damn foot on the gas. There’s nothing for you here. Get to Damian. He’s the only thing that matters.”

But even as she said it, her hands stayed glued to the wheel.

She groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

This wasn’t the plan.

She was supposed to be focused on Damian, not Jey. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him - trapped, alone, and completely vulnerable in a place like that.
“Dammit!” she yelled, punching the steering wheel hard enough to make her knuckles ache. She could almost hear Damian’s dry chuckle in her head.

“Captain Save-a-Hoe.”

She grinned despite herself.

When he was right.

He was right.

“Fine,” she muttered, throwing the car into a sharp U-turn. Her tires squealed against the cracked asphalt as she sped back toward town. She had no plan, no resources, and no clue what she was going to do, but she was going to do something.

Jey wasn’t just a partner - he was her partner.

That had to count for something.

Right?

Eventually, she pulled into the outskirts of what used to be a thriving city. Now it was barely hanging on, all crumbling infrastructure and makeshift shanty houses.

As she drove closer to the remnants of downtown, she spotted the most run-down motel she’d ever seen. A half-collapsed wreck that reeked of bad decisions and broken promises.

Perfect.

It’d be her base of operations for now.

Rhea parked as discreetly as she could, searching Jey’s trunk until she found a car cover. She dragged it over the vehicle.

“One problem solved.”

Slinging a small bag over her shoulder, she headed to her assigned room, cringing at the sticky, cigarette-stained smell of the place. The mattress looked… well-loved, to put it charitably. But it’d do.

For now.

She tossed her bag onto the bed and stood there, staring blankly at the cracked wallpaper.

“Why the hell do I do this to myself?” But she already knew the answer.

Partnerships weren’t something she took lightly. They’d built something, however fragile, and leaving him behind felt.

Wrong.

She slipped her valuables into her jacket, double-checking every pocket. In places like this, rooms got raided the second your back was turned. She had no intention of coming back to find her things gone.

The air outside was cool and carried the faint smell of smoke from burning trash fires. As she walked through the deserted streets, she spotted a diner, grimy but functional. Through the smudged windows, she saw a few hunched figures nursing coffee and cheap, unappealing meals.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in hours.

A quick bite might give her the time to think and plan her next move.

Before going in, she pulled a joint from her pocket, lighting it with a flick of her lighter. The smoke hit her lungs hard, the slight buzz easing the tension in her shoulders. She leaned against the porch railing and took another drag but before she could exhale, something felt off.

Too late.

A bag came down over her head with brutal efficiency.

She gasped, clawing at the fabric, her lungs screaming for air. She thrashed, reaching for anything, a railing, a post, but hands grabbed her, not two but four, yanking her backward with overwhelming force.

Her fingers tore at the bag, desperate for oxygen, but her strength was no match for theirs. The edges of her vision dimmed, her thoughts fracturing as panic set in.

She stumbled, her legs giving way beneath her.

Then the world went black.

Rhea saw darkness, then she saw herself and Damian on a boat. At first, the seas were calm, but soon the skies darkened. She warned Damian to step back from the edge.

She begged him.

A huge wave struck the boat, drenching them both. The chill and the impact hit her hard.

Then Damian was gone.

She scrambled to the edge, scanning the sea with frantic, weary eyes. Another wave slammed into her - so cold, so powerful, it stole her breath.

Still, she reached for Damian in the cold, dark unknown.

But she wasn’t on a boat.

And Damian wasn’t lost at sea.

She was strapped to something.

A chair.

Her hands and legs were bound.

Water splashed onto her covered face. She gasped against the bag suffocating her, the saturating water making it impossible to breathe.

“Damian,” she croaked weakly.

“That’s enough,” a voice said, a woman’s voice.

“I think she needs one more for good measure,” a man’s voice countered.

Another bucket of ice-cold water dumped over her head. She gasped, her bound hands instinctively clawing at the soaked fabric around her face.

Suddenly, the wet cloth was ripped away.

She wheezed, sucking in precious air, her lungs burning.

As her thoughts cleared, only one thing consumed her: killing the bastard who had the audacity to waterboard Rhea Bloody Ripley.

Her vision blurry, she growled a threat. “You’d better fucking drown me because if I get out of this chair, I’m going to kill everything breathing around me.”

“Settle down, Rhea.” The woman’s voice again. She stepped closer and wiped Rhea’s eyes, clearing her vision. With a perfectly manicured hand, she lifted Rhea’s chin.

“You don’t know me - ”

“You’re right,” Rhea interrupted. “I don’t know you. But we’re about to get real acquainted when you undo these binds.” She yanked at her restraints, still trying to break free.

“I think she needs another dousing,” the man sneered, stepping into the light.

Kevin Owens.

Rhea knew him - and she’d beaten him down a few times, too.

“Maybe just one more bucket for the Judgement Day bitch who’s a thorn in my side,” Kevin said harshly, stepping closer. His glare cut through her as he continued.

“You’ve got something to do with Sami - Sami fucking Zayn - and I’ll beat it out of you if I have to.”

“What?” Rhea exclaimed, utterly confused.

“Don’t play dumb. The moment Sami reached out to me, he ended up there. Then you just stroll into town, untouched?”

“That’s not why - ”

Brandi shouted at Kevin, urging him to calm down.

Kevin stormed across the room and smashed a chair against the wall in frustration.

Rhea glared at him, still confused. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but I don’t know shit about Sami Zayn. I’m here for someone else.”

Brandi frowned. “Someone else?”

Kevin advanced on Rhea again. “She’s lying. Judgement Day scum is built on fucking lies.”

Rhea snapped her head in his direction. “If I wanted to lie, I’d do a better job than that.”

“Everyone calm down!” Brandi interjected.

“My name is Brandi Rhodes,” the woman said.

Kevin growled in warning. “Stop talking. Don’t reveal anything to a Judgement Day bootlicker.”

“Stop calling me Judgement Day!” Rhea screamed. “I’m not part of them anymore. I’m here for Damian - and Jey Uso. He’s trapped in that goddamned prison, and that’s why I’m here. I couldn’t care less about Sami Zayn or whatever you two have going on.” She shot them both a fiery glare. “So fuck you, Brandi Rhodes. And a BIG fuck you, Kevin Owens.”

Kevin splashed another bucket of water into her face.

Brandi stepped in again, wiping Rhea’s face with a soft touch. “Did you say… Jey Uso?”

Rhea huffed angrily. “Untie me.”

Ignoring Kevin’s protests, Brandi loosened Rhea’s restraints.

Freed, Rhea rubbed her sore wrists and shoved her wet hair out of her face. “I was kicked out of the Judgement Day a long time ago. They took Damian and Jimmy Uso. Jey and I found out they were being held together. We decided to find them on our own.”

Kevin sneered. “And then you sold them both out to save Damian.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Rhea spat. “Jey and I were working together. He got taken by that stupid cop gang, and now I’m here to get him out.”

“Bullshit,” Kevin snarled.

Rhea lunged at him, but Brandi stepped between them.

“Enough!” Brandi barked. She looked at Rhea, then at Kevin. “I think… I think we’re on the same side.”

Rhea and Kevin both turned to her, snarling simultaneously, “What?”

Brandi sighed, her tone softening. “I think we’re all planning the same thing… a jailbreak.”