#lux-scriptum

Forty-eight hours.

Winn shivered, running his hands down his bare arms. The female guard stayed sitting on the stairs across the room, not even looking up from her phone.

Shivering again, Winn anxiously paced the limits of the closet. He mentally tracked Rembrandt as the man went upstairs - and kept going up. Winn ground his teeth together, looking towards the doorframe. If he -

But Rembrandt stopped at the door to the room Rhiannon was in, and stayed there for only a few moments, next to whoever was watching Winn’s girlfriend. She crossed the room to the, both, and Winn tensed - but then, a moment later, Rembrandt turned away.

Winn let out a hiss, but he didn’t relax until Rembrandt had walked out of the building, down the street, into some kind of car, and drove away, finally leaving the uppermost radius of Winn’s powers.

Dropping to the floor, Winn let out a shaky breath, curling his knees up to his chest. He could do this. He had to. Forty-eight hours wasn’t very long. He had enough room to lay out. Winn needed to catch up on his sleep anyway, and his neighbor would watchi his animals.

He had to do this. He had to, for Rhiannon.

--

Winn didn’t get very much sleep at all. There was no door to close him in, and he couldn’t decide if that made his situation better or worse. He’d physically never been able to leave his cell at the PCC, not unless it was at the whims of the guards, but all that kept him in this prison was the knowledge that leaving would put Rhiannon in danger.

There were no windows in the basement; the only exit was the stairs. Winn tried to keep track of the time, but after the second instance he startled awake from a doze, his heart pounding, he had no idea how long he’d been stuck in the closet.

He blinked, and dragged a hand through his hair. What had woken him up -

Rhiannon. She’d left her room. Gone to a smaller one - but by the time he managed to gather up and refocus his power more accurately, she was walking back from the smaller one. The toilet, he realized. She’d only gone to use the toilet.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, until stars bloomed behind his eyelids. “Hey.”

The woman - now more comfortable in a folding chair at a card table - didn’t look up from her book. Winn pushed up to his feet. “Hey,” he repeated.

She just scowled more intently at her book. Winn rubbed the side of his face. Had it gotten colder? “Hey, I gotta take a piss.”

She grunted. “Go ahead.”

The closest bathroom was upstairs. Winn toed the line separating the closet from the rest of the basement. “So I can go up?”

Finally, she looked up at him. Her sharp gaze made Winn take a step back from the open doorway. “I didn’t say that.”

Winn scoffed. “So, what, am I s’posed to piss myself?”

Shrugging, the woman went back to her reading. “If that’s what you gotta do.”

Winn fidgeted, looking around the closet. This was stupid. “Look, I’ll put myself right back in here -” “You step one toe outside of that closet, your girlfriend gets shot in the head.”

Winn froze. His thoughts darted right back to Rhiannon, four stories up, and now back on her bed. With her guard right next door, and armed.

Scowling, Winn slumped against the wall. “You got a bottle, or something?”

“Shoulda thought of that yourself,” the female guard drawled, flipping a page in her book.

Winn stared at her. “Fuckin’ prison was better than this.”

“Why didn’t you stay behind bars, then, if you liked it so much?”

Winn had known the newcomer was coming downstairs, but his stomach sank at the familiar voice. He tensed as he recognized Jonas Huntington, an oversized lackey of Rembrandt’s that Winn really hoped had died by now.

He licked his lips nervously. Jonas’ favorite hobby was kicking people when they were down.

“Missed that ugly face of yours,” Winn said. “Needed to see something to remind me my life’s not completely horrid.”

Jonas sneered at him. Scoffing in disgust, he turned to the woman. “You can go home.”

“What time is it?” Winn asked. No one answered him.

“Thanks, Huntington, but I gotta wait for my ride,” the woman said. Jonas shrugged and went to the wall, grabbing a second metal folding chair from where it had been propped up against the cement. He undid the button on his sleek black suit jacket before he sat.

Winn waited for him to get comfortable before he spoke up again. “You really still doing the grunt work for that bastard?”

“Shut up, Vinn.”

“Winn. Still can’t even get my name right.” Sticking his hands in his pockets, Winn tried to ignore how cold he was and eyed Jonas. “Look at you, wearing the same kinda monkey suit Remy does. Fuck, ‘least before, you weren’t this bad of a copycat suck-up.”

The female thug arched her eyebrows over at Jonas, who was stoically doing his best to ignore Winn, poking at his phone.

Winn probably shouldn’t needle him. It would only end in blows.

He didn’t care.

“What’s the matter, Remy-two?” Winn asked with a sneer. “Six years without anyone intelligent to talk to, and you forget all your words except, ‘may I wipe your arse, sir’?”

That was it. Jonas shoved his chair back from the table with a scraping noise, and the woman set down her book, finally finding something more interesting.

That was the moment Winn realized he had nowhere to run.

He backed up a step as Jonas filled the doorway to the closet. Winn’s grin turned nervous, now. “Careful. Don’t wanna get blood on your hand-me-downs.”

Jonas crossed his arms over his barrel-like chest. “You didn’t learn a damn thing, did you?”

“I took some  courses at the PCC.”

“Yeah, musta had nothing else to do, when they stuck you in that tiny little cell the whole time.” Jonas leaned against the doorframe. “Kinda like this, right? Heard it made you crazy.”

The back of Winn’s neck prickled, but he forcing himself to keep smiling. “Oh, it was nice. Peaceful. Didn’t have to smell that booze breath of yours.”

Jonas snorted. He dropped his hands; Winn kept an eye on the man’s fists as Jonas stepped forward. “Peaceful, huh? Going to bed every night on that hard little board, locked up, trying to remember the last time you saw the sun?”

He walked forward as he spoke, forcing Winn to back up. The closet was so narrow that there wasn’t any room for Winn to dodge around Jonas, not unless he wanted a fist in his gut. Two steps later, Winn’s back hit the wall.

“Shut in, day after day,” Jonas went on, his voice low and deadly calm. “Knowing you finally got thrown into the one hole even you couldn’t wiggle out of. How’d that feel, Vinn? Feel nice and relaxing? Feel peaceful?”

Winn shut his eyes for a moment, trying to shove back the memories of day after day after day in solitary. He forced out a laugh and opened them, because staring up at Huntington was better than the images of cell doors and sneering guards and walls with barbed wire that crowded his mind. “Wow. You really been playing the part, huh? Give it up, Jonny, Rembrandt doesn’t even intimidate me. What makes you think you can?”

“Keep lying to yourself, Vinn, maybe one day you’ll even believe it.” Jonas poked Winn in the chest, his thick finger hitting right over Winn’s heart, in the middle of the crosshair scars Rembrandt had carved into his skin. “How do you get any sleep at all, with that target on your chest?”

“How do you get any sleep,” Winn shot back, panic forcing his words out in a rush, “when you spend all your time sucking Remy’s -”

He ducked, Jonas’ fist just skimming the top of his scruffy yellow hair. Even with nowhere to go, Winn tried diving for the narrow slice of space behind Jonas and the wall. He didn’t quite make it before Jonas snapped his elbow out, hitting Winn in the side of the head. Rebounding off the wall, Winn didn’t have the room to escape Jonas’ grab for his arm. The bigger man punched Winn in the stomach, and as he doubled over, heaving for breath, Jonas snapped his knee up and into Winn’s right eye.

Winn swore with what little breath he could suck into his lungs and leaned backward. Jonas still managed to grab a chunk of his hair, though, and then backed up, dragging Winn with him.

There was nothing in Jonas’ clothes or pockets that Winn could use to get away. He hissed and spat like a cat, bracing his bare feet against the floor, and finding no purchase.

“Hey - shit, stop - wait -”

Jonas swung Winn around with ease, scraping Winn against the wall for a second. He gave Winn a good shove.

Swearing, Winn caught himself on the doorframe, before he could fall backwards out of the closet. Jonas huffed in disappointment.

Regaining his balance, Winn glared up at Jonas, heart pounding in time with the throbbing of the blow to his eye. He took a step forward, from that invisible line he couldn’t cross. Not if he wanted to keep Rhiannon alive. “It doesn’t count if you throw me out.”

“No one gives a damn if you walk out or fall out,” Jonas said. Winn flinched, squashing the urge to run as Jonas stepped forward, looming over him. “How much you like that girl of yours?”

Winn braced his hands against the doorframe, eyes wide and his pulse thundering in his ears. He should’ve kept his mouth shut -

“You gonna answer me? Or am I gonna push you outta here?”

Winn’s mouth went dry. “Hunt - Jonas - don’t, leave me alone -”

“Why?” Hunt’s lip curled. “Hell, Vinn, you don’t know how great this is for me. All that bullshit you pulled, always makin’ me look like an idiot -”

“You are an idiot,” Winn interrupted without thinking.

Jonas smashed his fist into Winn’s ribs, prompting a strangled yelp. “Who’s more of an idiot?” Jonas snapped, and hit Winn again. “Your girlfriend’s life is on the line, and you’re down here runnin’ your mouth like an asshole.”

He dragged Winn closer, as the small man dry-heaved and struggled for breath. “Tell me why I shouldn’t drag you up there and make you watch me blow her pretty little head off her pretty little shoulders?”

Winn coughed and tried to pull his arm out of Jonas’ grip. “She - She doesn’t have anything to do with - with any of this -”

“So? None of our business ever had anything to do with you.” Jonas gave Winn a good shove, and Winn hissed as he tripped over his own feet. His hands snapped out to catch himself on the doorframe again, before he could stumbled over the threshold. “Sure as hell never stopped you.”

Winn looked up, but Jonas settled his massive hand at the base of Winns throat, before he could move. Slowly, Jonas pushed forward, the slight pressure forcing Winn to straighten up from his aching ribs. Gritting his teeth, Winn dug his fingers into the doorframe and stiffened his arms. “Huntington - Jonas, stop -”

“Why should I?” Jonas asked lazily. He increased the pressure, forcing Winn to lean back, and all he could think about was the female guard behind him, phone in hand, and the other one upstairs near Rhiannon, a gun under their jacket.

Licking his lips, Winn tried to push back. “Jonas,” he whimpered, “please - please don’t -”

Jonas stopped pushing, his eyebrows shooting upwards. He didn’t relieve the pressure, though. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘please.’”

Winn opened his mouth - and then, for the first time he could remember, closed it again, and actually thought about what he wanted to say.

“Please,” he whispered again, the word acid on his tongue. “Don’t hurt her, Jonas.”

“I been wantin’ this for a long time, Vinn,” Jonas growled. “Give me a reason not to ruin your life.”

Winn closed his eyes, teeth grinding, before he bit out, “What do you want?”

A slow, cruel grin spread over Jonas’ face. He stepped back, finally letting Winn straighten up, take a step away from the door.