Page 69 of Tiny's Testament
“Jesus, Pearl. What do you want?” Exhaustion claws at every word.
Pearl bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. “I… I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
I laugh under my breath. “You don’t talk to me. You talk at me or about me. You talk to Tiny.”
“This isn’t about Tiny,” Pearl snaps, then looks around, paranoid. “It’s about you.”
“What about me?” I ask. My stomach twists low.
Pearl steps closer, eyes shining with something sharp and frantic. “It’s about what happened. With the drugs,” she whispers. “The ones you used. The ones that nearly killed you.”
My breath stutters. “Pearl.”
“No, listen.” She looks around like someone might hear. “I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have given you that shit. I should’ve stopped you.” Her voice trembles. I can tell she’s acting, but fuck, she does a good job.
“I know who supplied it,” she whispers. “I know who pushed the stuff into the compound. And I can prove you didn’t go looking for it.”
My breath stutters.
She sees the crack and pounces. Pearl leans in, voice soft, almost kind. “I don’t want Tiny thinking you relapsed on purpose. Or that you’re using again. I know how much that would destroy you. And him.”
My pulse spikes.
She lowers her tone further. “Someone wants you out of the picture, Syv. Someone is using your relapse to fuck with Tiny’s head. I can show you who.”
“Why would you help me?” I whisper.
Pearl’s smile is small and broken, and fake. “Because I owe you. And because… I don’t want to be the villain in your story anymore.”
That lands heavier than I expected. She jerks her chin toward the back gate. “Come on. Five minutes down the road. I’ll explain everything there.”
My body hesitates. My heart wants to bolt. My head whispers RUN.
ButTiny thinking you did that to yourselfrepeats like a hammer.
It’s the kind of hurt that makes you move when you shouldn’t, trust when you know better, follow a lie wrapped in hope.
So I follow her. Not far, just a few steps into the dark, far enough that the safety of the gate is gone and the compound lights no longer reach us. Far enough that the night feels too big and too quiet. Just far enough that I don’t see the men until they’re already on me.
Something in the air shifts. I’m not sure if it’s pressure, silence, or the faint scrape of rubber on asphalt.
The world explodes. The ambush is instant. Violent. Absolute.
One second, I’m stepping beside Pearl. The next, a van door rips open with a metallic scream. Boots pound across the pavement. Gloved hands slam into my shoulders, yanking me so hard my breath crushes in my chest.
“What the? Pearl!” I choke.
She stumbles back, eyes wide, hands half-raised. But she doesn’t scream. Doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t even flinch.
A rough hand clamps over my mouth. I thrash, kicking, clawing, but another man grabs my wrists, yanking them behind my back.
“She’s small,” one growls. “Hold her still.”
A needle flashes.
My panic surges so hard I taste blood as I bite my tongue. The first injection that hits the side of my neck is cold.
I try to scream under the hand, but it comes out as a muffled gasp. The second needle pierces deeper. My knees buckle. My vision warps.
