Tables don’t lie.

They’re flat. Predictable. Honest in their construction.

They don’t pretend to be something they’re not. And when they break?

It’s loud. Sudden. Final.

Jackson Cade’s a lot like that.

Stubborn. Solid. Straightforward to the point of stupidity.

You always know exactly what he’s going to do because he never stops to think.

Especially when Jasper Redgrave’s in the room.

Every single time they cross paths, Cade walks in fists-first and eyes-closed, like the outcome’s already scripted and he’s the good guy by default.

Spoiler: you’re not.

You don’t think, Jack. You react.

You follow instincts dressed up as justice. You call it honor, but it’s just habit. You call it loyalty, but it’s just fear of asking why.

Why do I keep playing by the rules? Why do I keep getting burned? Why do I keep standing on these broken pieces expecting something to change?

I used to live like that too.

I used to think flat. Simple.

Surface-level.

If someone loved me, I followed. If someone led, I walked. Didn’t matter if they lied, or if the ground gave out beneath me.

Didn’t matter if the table cracked.

I still sat at it.

But tables break.

And when they did, when I broke, I had a choice.

Lay there in the debris. Or climb.

That’s where ladders come in, Jackson.

They don’t hand you anything. They don’t pretend.

They demand.

Step by step. Misstep by misstep.

They teach you pain.

Balance. Height. Fear.

You don’t run up a ladder. You learn it.

And that’s what I did.

I learned how to stand without needing someone else’s voice in my head. I learned how to fall and not shatter.

I learned how to think without being told what’s right.

You?

You’re still sitting at the same damn table Redgrave set for you years ago. Still acting the Little Eagle he cast you as. Still acting like if you crash through it hard enough, something noble comes out the other side.

But here’s the truth: You’ve never left that table.

You just keep rebuilding it. Over and over.

Your mentor. Your brother. Dead. Your father: working with Redgrave.

And still, you sit.

Meanwhile, I’m climbing.

And when we step into this match — surrounded by ladders and tables — I want you to understand what you’re really walking into.

I’m not the girl waiting for the answer anymore.

I’m not the one asking where I belong.

I built my place. I climbed to it.

And now I’m dragging that table with me — not to sit at it, but to put you through it.

You never think, Jackson.

So I’ll do it for you.

And when you’re lying in the rubble, wondering why your fists weren’t enough, why Jasper left you behind again, I’ll make you learn…

Tables don’t lie. Ladders don’t forgive.

And some of us had to think our way out. Learn our way up.

You just hit things and hoped.

I reached the top because I stopped trying to fix the table and started climbing the ladder.

You never stopped to think, and now you’re out of time to learn.