Chapter 882: Pee for Me, Auntie

"I was so terrified," Gabriela whispered, voice fracturing on every other syllable, thin and trembling as a wire stretched to breaking. "When the news broke... they kept saying you... that you’d tortured Diaz until he was barely human. I told myself it was lies. Over and over. That you would never—never—become that kind of monster."

Her forehead dropped hard against mine. Our breaths tangled—short, uneven, fever-hot against each other’s lips.

"I kept seeing you in some freezing cell instead. Bruised. Drugged. Gone. That I’d never feel this again..." Her palms pressed flat to my chest as though checking I was really solid. "Never hear your voice. Never have you."

Her full breasts stayed crushed against me, rising and falling too fast, nipples still peaked and insistent beneath the thin hospital gown. When her hips gave one small, helpless roll—grinding her heat along my thigh—it wasn’t deliberate. It was instinct. Need speaking when words failed.

Sarah remained seated across the room, arms loosely folded, face deliberately calm. Only the faintest softening at the corners of her eyes betrayed her. When Gabriela’s gaze flicked away, Sarah gave me the smallest nod.

Gabriela finally registered Sarah’s presence again. She jerked back a fraction, cheeks and throat blooming crimson. She bit her lower lip, eyes darting between us, fresh worry creasing her face.

I slid both hands to her waist, anchoring her against me. "Auntie," I said softly, "I’m okay. Really. How’s Diaz doing?"

The question pulled her back like a lifeline. She blinked hard, refocusing. Her fingers curled around my forearms for balance.

"The swelling in his brain is dropping faster than they hoped," she said, steadier now, though the thickness of unshed tears still clung to every word. "They think he might speak soon... maybe even move a finger or two. They’re cautiously optimistic." Her eyes slid toward the bed.

Diaz lay motionless except for the shallow mechanical rise of his chest. Gabriela’s expression flickered—pity warring with something colder. Resentment, perhaps. For the chaos his name had dragged into their lives.

She turned back to me, searching. "I talk to him anyway. I don’t know if any part of him hears... but someone has to."

I brushed a tear track from her cheekbone with my thumb. "That’s good. Let him heal. The important thing is we’re still here."

I glanced over her shoulder. "Officer Sarah..."

Sarah rose smoothly, posture easy but alert. The ghost of a smile touched her mouth. "Hey, Jack. You look better than the last time I saw you."

Professional on the surface—polite, measured. But when Gabriela glanced away for half a second, Sarah’s eyes locked on mine, and she gave one slow, filthy wink. Later.

I let the corner of my lip twitch—just enough for her to see—then schooled my face neutral again.

Sarah stepped closer, voice dropping. "She asked about you every hour. I told her you’d show. She didn’t believe me until you walked through that door." She looked at Gabriela with real warmth. "She’s tougher than she looks."

Gabriela managed a shaky smile. "Thank you... for staying. For everything."

After a short silence, I said, "Officer Sarah, there’s a case file being built against Javier and Sergio. Officer Jayden and Lawyer Lorena are running point."

Sarah’s brows lifted slightly.

"Come with me," I told her. "I’ll introduce you to Jayden."

I pressed a soft kiss to Gabriela’s temple, murmured "I’ll be right back," and guided Sarah out.

In the corridor, Jayden straightened when she saw us. Quick introductions passed—handshakes, professional nods.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us sat in a quiet booth at the hospital-adjacent restaurant. Jayden and Sarah spoke about case details in low voices while I mostly listened.

Eventually, Jayden turned to me. "Jack... what do you want done with Diaz?"

I held her gaze. "I want him turned. A cooperating witness. He points at Sergio and Javier’s collaboration, names every other dirty official he knows. We paint him as a corrupt cop who saw the light—his testimony buys him protection instead of a life sentence."

My eyes slid to Sarah. "I know he killed your father. I know part of you wants him gone. But letting him live long enough to hate every single day of the cage we build around him... that’s worse."

Sarah studied me for a long time. Then she gave one slow, decisive nod.

After lunch, Jayden took Sarah to meet Lorena and the rest of the legal team Julie had pulled in. I headed back alone.

When I slipped into the room, Diaz’s eyes were open—cloudy, unfocused, but awake.

I stepped behind Gabriela and wrapped both arms around her waist, my lips brushing her ear. "Auntie... I missed you so fucking much."

She froze. Heat exploded across her cheeks. "Jack—Diaz is watching," she hissed, in a panicked whisper.

I pressed my hips forward so she could feel exactly how hard I was. "He can watch," I breathed against the shell of her ear. "My cock’s been aching for your ass since the second I walked out."

A tiny, choked sound escaped her. "Aaaah... hmmm..."

I steered her backward into the attached bathroom and locked the door.

The moment it clicked shut, her eyes met mine—wide, burning, ashamed, starving.

I pinched her nipple through the gown. Hard.

"Aaaaaah—don’t—"

I steered her backward until her calves hit the edge of the closed toilet lid. With one smooth motion, I lifted her left thigh high, hooking it over the porcelain so her legs splayed wide—vulva parted, dark curls glistening already, the tight rosebud of her asshole exposed and flinching under the harsh fluorescent light.

Her hands flew to my shoulders for balance. "Jack—wait—please—"

I didn’t wait.

My right hand slid between her cheeks, middle finger circling the puckered ring once, twice, teasing the sensitive skin until it softened just enough. Then I pressed the pad of my thumb firmly against the center and pushed—slow, inexorable—until the first tight knuckle slipped past the resisting muscle.

"Aaah—!" Her spine arched violently. The sound that tore out of her was half sob, half whine.

"Shhh, Auntie," I murmured against the damp skin below her ear. "You said you needed to pee. So pee."

Her inner thighs quivered. I could feel the frantic little pulses running through her pelvic floor—trying to clamp down, trying to hold everything in.

But my thumb was already buried to the second knuckle, thick and unyielding, pressing steadily inward until I felt the deeper resistance of her rectal wall. I curled it gently, stroking the thin membrane that separated my finger from her full bladder.

Her breath hitched into shallow, panicked pants. "No—no—no—Jack, I can’t—not like this—oh God—"

I twisted my wrist half an inch—barely a movement—and pushed deeper still.

Her whole lower belly jumped. A tiny, hot droplet escaped her slit first—clear, warm, sliding down the inside of her thigh. She clamped her eyes shut, mortified color flooding from her chest to her hairline.

"Jack—please—take it out—I’m gonna—"