—in which rusty, sent undercover to steal some blueprints, gets caught and forces you to blow up the cover.
The room smelled of cigar smoke and iron.
You stood at Danny’s shoulder, chin lifted in perfect imitation of his poker face, though your pulse was hammering in your ears. Rusty had gone in hours ago, dressed like a middleman to lift the blueprints the crew needed for the vault. He should have been back already.
Instead, the doors swung open.
Two guards dragged a man between them, bloodied, beaten, his shirt torn. And there he was. Rusty.
Your stomach dropped so hard you wanted to throw up. His lip was split, one eye swelling, but his posture was straight. His eyes scanned the room and landed on you. That look, the one only you knew, that thin line of calm holding back the terror beneath.
“Found this thief sneaking around where he doesn’t belong,” the man behind the desk drawled, voice like gravel. He gestured lazily at Rusty. “You know him?”
It was a test. You knew it. Danny knew it. The entire crew froze like statues, nobody dared to move.
You and Danny spoke at the same time, your voices cold as ice.
Rusty didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. His jaw tightened, but his face gave nothing away.
The guards shoved him forward. He stumbled, knees hitting the floor. A boot slammed into his ribs. You clenched your fists so hard your nails dug into your palms.
The man behind the desk chuckled, swirling his whiskey.
“Lying’s a funny little thing.”
He pulled out a gun and you shivered. He walked around the desk until he stood right behind Rusty.
He pressed the barrel to his temple and you felt your blood run cold, but your face remained emotionless.
“Tell me again,” the man said softly. “Do you know him?”
You saw Rusty’s face, calm, waiting. Trusting you to keep silent. Trusting you, ride or die.
The gun pressed harder against his skull, and you looked at the man who was smirking impatiently.
Your expression crumbled, the pressure was too much, and your panicked voice ripped from your throat before you could stop it.
Everyone stilled, but the damage was done, it was out and the plan blown.
For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then chaos erupted. Danny lunged, knocking the whiskey glass into the man’s chest. Basher set off a small charge under the table and smoke filled the room.
You were moving before you even realized, pulling Rusty to his feet, ducking under gunfire as the crew tore their way out.
The door slammed shut behind you, the crew scattering into frantic arguments. Basher cursed, Livingston babbled, Linus demanded what the hell went wrong.
Rusty slumped onto the couch, groaning as the adrenaline faded. You dropped to your knees in front of him, your trembling hands already pulling the first aid kit open.
“Don’t—” he hissed when you dabbed at the blood on his temple.
“Not the time, Rusty.” you snapped, voice shaking.
He blinked at you, something soft breaking through the pain. “You weren’t supposed to say anything.”
You froze, then looked up at him, tears threatening to spill. “You think I could stand there and watch you die?!”
Rusty exhaled, shaky. His hand found yours, smudged with his blood, and squeezed. “Ride or die, huh?”
Your lips trembled into a laugh. “Exactly.”
I took inspiration from the scene in pirates of the caribbean (at world’s end) and I love rusty ryan so I came up with this eheh.
kinda sucks at the end but I really wanted to post this cuz I have too many drabbles ;)