[As much as he should have seen this coming, should have expected it, been prepared for it, had the police on speed dial—

Tony didn't see this coming at all. And that says something worse. How comfortable he's become with Jack. How much he trusted him. He can't breathe and it's been years since he threw his parental hang-ups in the trash, but hell if those words don't bring back flashes of his mom screaming at him in a drunken rage. Why is he such a screw up, why does he make her do these things, does he like her yelling —His hand is scrabbling at Jack's arm, panic setting in and making him weak, leaving him to fall back against the passenger door as Jack climbs over him, overbearing, in his face, trapping him— it would have been better if she had an abortion, how could one kid be so worthless, did he enjoy spiting his parents like this, who raised this selfish brat

Ah, Tony. When I ordered the hit on you—
He doesn't know the croon in his ear, but something about it fits in like a lost puzzle piece here. The feeling of not just being unable to breathe, but paralyzed, body going limp and tense, muscles locking up, sets in. His eyes widen and Tony stares up at Jack, face draining of color.]