052. 𝑯𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆

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Dear readerTaylor Swift 0:04 —•————————————𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔

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Dear reader
Taylor Swift
0:04 —•————————————
𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓
𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔



















𝑯𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆
𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 12 : 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 9
𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅
(𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 1)




























𝑱𝒐𝒗𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 — wrong place, wrong time, always with her dad or uncle nearby. But this? This was federal, terrifying, and real in a way that made her stomach twist into knots. She sat shackled in the back of the transport truck, wrists sore from the cuffs, shoulders stiff. Dean sat beside her, calm but tense, trying to meet her eyes with quiet reassurance. It wasn't working.

Sam sat opposite them, his jaw clenched. All three were silent, the weight of what just happened — the Lucifer possession, the exorcism, the president — hanging in the air like smoke after a battlefield.

When they were dragged out of the truck, it got worse. Blindfolds. Actual blindfolds.

"What the hell," Jovi muttered under her breath, stumbling as she tried to stay close to her Dad. She could hear his breathing — calm, steady — and she clung to that sound like a lifeline.

But as soon as they crossed the threshold, hands grabbed her. She was yanked in another direction.

"Dad!" Jovi shouted, panic rising in her throat like bile. "Dad!"

She fought back hard, twisting against the grip on her waist, but the guard was stronger and didn't give a damn that she was barely more than a teenager. Dean's voice echoed down the hallway:

"Jov, remember what we told you!"

Right. Stay cool. Don't use your powers. Act innocent.

Jovi was shoved into a cold metal chair in a room that looked like every cliché interrogation scene she'd ever seen in a movie. She muttered under her breath, "Asshole," as the guard slammed the door behind him. The cuffs bit into her wrists, but she didn't flinch.

The room was still. Quiet. Way too quiet. She hated silence almost as much as she hated feeling powerless.

After what felt like hours — or maybe twenty minutes, she had no idea — the door opened. A older man in a suit stepped in, looking tired and casual like he was already halfway through his day.

𝑨𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕 - 𝑺𝑷𝑵Where stories live. Discover now