Jax stood in the quarters he'd shared with Elara and methodically destroyed everything that reminded him of her.
The teacups they'd used together? Smashed against the wall. The books she'd collected? Torn apart, pages scattered. The picture they'd taken at the market, both smiling, both happy, both living a lie? Crushed under his boot.
Finn watched from the doorway, said nothing. Good. Jax didn't want words. Didn't want comfort. Wanted to burn everything down until the pain stopped.
It didn't stop.
He grabbed the blanket from their bed—their bed, where he'd held her, where they'd talked about futures that would never exist—and tried to rip it. Couldn't. Gamma modifications made him strong, but fabric was stronger than grief.
He threw it instead, roared his frustration at the walls, punched the rusted metal until his knuckles split.
The pain felt good. Real. At least his bleeding hands didn't lie to him.
"Jax." Finn's voice, quiet. "That's enough."
"It's not enough!" He grabbed the bottle of good whiskey they'd been saving for a celebration that would never come. Threw it. Glass and alcohol exploded across the far wall. "Nothing's enough! She lied, Finn. Every day. Every night. Every fucking moment we spent together was a lie!"
"I know."
"You don't know!" Jax turned on them. "You didn't love her! You didn't trust her! You didn't give her everything and find out it was all performance!"
Finn flinched but held their ground. "You're right. I didn't. But I love you, and watching you destroy yourself hurts me. So maybe ease up on the self-destruction?"
"Why?" Jax laughed, bitter and broken. "Why should I ease up? Why should I care about anything? She didn't care. She came here to spy on us, to gather evidence against us. We were just a job to her."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do! She admitted it! Her mission was to investigate me, assess if I was a threat!" He kicked over a chair, felt savage satisfaction when it broke. "And I made it so fucking easy for her, didn't I? Fell in love like an idiot, told her everything, gave her complete access to the Free Level."
"She said she fell in love with you too."
"She's a liar!" The words ripped out of him. "That's what she does! She lies! How am I supposed to believe anything she said when her entire existence here was a lie?"
Finn was quiet for a moment. Then: "Do you want to believe her?"
The question stopped Jax cold. "What?"
"Deep down, underneath all this rage, do you want to believe she loved you? That it was real?"
Jax stared at them. The truth was too painful to voice. Yes. God help him, yes. He wanted to believe she'd loved him. That the woman he'd known for two years had been real, not just a cover identity. That the connection they'd had meant something.
But wanting to believe didn't make it true.
"Doesn't matter what I want," he said. "She made her choices. Now I'm making mine."
He went to the small cache where he kept his private stash. Drift. He hadn't touched it in eight months, been clean since the Free Level started thriving. But the old addiction was right there, waiting for weakness.
He pulled out the vial of blue powder.
"Jax, don't." Finn stepped forward. "That's not going to help."
"Don't care." He prepped a hit, the routine automatic from years of use. "I just need to not feel this for a while."
"She wouldn't want you to—"
"She doesn't get an opinion!" Jax snapped. "She doesn't get to want things from me! She gave up that right when she lied to me for two years!"
He took the hit.
The Drift hit his system like warm honey, smoothing away the sharp edges of pain. The rage didn't disappear, but it blurred. The heartbreak was still there, but distant. Manageable.
Numb. He felt numb. Finally.
"Better," he muttered, sinking onto the broken bed. "So much better."
Finn knelt beside him. "Jax. Listen to me. I get that you're hurting. I understand why. But this—" They gestured at the destroyed room, the Drift paraphernalia, the blood on his knuckles, "—this isn't healing. This is drowning."
"Then let me drown." The Drift made everything soft. Easy. "Let me drown, Finn. I'm tired of trying to stay afloat."
"No." Finn's voice was firm. "I didn't watch you build yourself up from nothing just to watch you tear yourself down over a woman who isn't worth it."
"She was worth it." The words escaped before Jax could stop them. "That's the problem. She was worth everything. And I gave her everything. And it wasn't real."
Finn pulled him into a hug. Jax tried to resist, then gave up, let himself collapse against his friend. The Drift made it okay to be weak. Made it okay to stop pretending to be strong.
"I loved her," he said into Finn's shoulder. "I really loved her."
"I know."
"How could she do this? If she loved me back, how could she lie to me every day?"
"I don't know." Finn held him tighter. "Maybe she's a sociopath. Maybe she was protecting you. Maybe both. Maybe neither. But Jax, you can't let this destroy you."
"Why not?" The Drift made him honest. "What's the point of any of this? We built the Free Level together. Every decision, every plan, we did it together. How do I run it without her? How do I trust anyone again?"
"You start by trusting me," Finn said quietly. "I'm here. I've always been here. I'll always be here."
Right. Finn. His best friend who'd never betrayed him. Who'd warned him about Elara from the beginning. Who'd loved him quietly while he loved someone else.
"I'm sorry," Jax said. "About before. About not—"
"Don't." Finn pulled back, looked at him seriously. "Don't apologize for not loving me back. Don't use this pain to try to force feelings you don't have. I don't want that."
"I could try—"
"No. You couldn't. And I don't want you to." They helped him lie down on the bed. "I want you to heal. Then, when you're ready, I want you to lead again. The Free Level needs you. I need you. But I need you whole, not broken and self-medicating."
Jax laughed bitterly. "Too late for whole. She broke me pretty thoroughly."
"Then we'll put you back together. Just like you put this community back together from nothing." Finn found a blanket that hadn't been destroyed, covered him with it. "Sleep it off. Tomorrow we'll deal with everything."
"What if I don't want to deal with it? What if I want to stay numb forever?"
"Then I'll drag you back anyway. That's what friends do."
Finn left, turned off the light. Jax lay in the darkness, Drift softening everything, and tried not to think about Elara. About her smile. Her laugh. The way she'd looked at him like he was worth something.
All lies. All performance.
Except... except there'd been moments. Small moments. When she'd cried after treating a dying child at the clinic. When she'd argued passionately for better housing for the elderly. When she'd held him after nightmares and whispered that he was good, he was worth love, he was enough.
Those moments had felt real.
But maybe he was just desperate to believe anything good about her. Maybe his heart was betraying his head, trying to find excuses for the inexcusable.
The Drift pulled him toward sleep. He welcomed it. Sleep meant no thinking, no feeling, no remembering.
Tomorrow he'd wake up and the pain would still be there. The betrayal would still be real. The woman he'd loved would still be a lie.
But for tonight, numb was enough.
For tonight, he could pretend none of it had happened.
For tonight, he could forget.
The rain drummed on overhead. Even in his Drift-haze, even in his broken quarters, even in his shattered heart—the rain never stopped.
Some things were constant.
Some things never changed.
And some lies, he was learning, ran so deep you couldn't tell them from truth even after they were exposed.
That was the cruelest part.
Not knowing what had been real.
Not knowing if anything had been real.
Not knowing if he'd ever know.