Page 62 of Jackson

I blink, shocked by his words.

I sit up, meeting his gaze.

“He’s the only one that can help me. I’m in a lot of trouble. All I have to do is help him and I’m free of that trouble. But if you think I’m here because I want to be ...”

“We can help you, too,” I say, quickly. “Jackson will happily help you if you get me out of here.”

He frowns, like he just doesn’t believe it to be possible.

“Hound would kill me.”

“Not if he can’t ...” I whisper. “I’m not just telling you what I want to hear. I grew up in that club. I know exactly what they are like. Now I am with a club that cares, and I know they’ll help you.”

“It’s too much of a risk,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Please, I have a family. He will kill me.”

He looks away, his fists clenching.

“Tell me your name,” I say, trying not to sound desperate.

“Walker.”

“I’m Serenity, but you already know that. I’m Hogan’s daughter, and I grew up surrounded by abuse, some of that came from your father. I got out, and I’m free now. You can be, too.”

“He’ll kill me,” Walker grinds out through his teeth. “When he was in prison, I wasn’t afraid of him, but now ...”

“I can help you. I promise you. Please. Let me prove it. Let me make a call.”

Walker hesitates. He’s torn, I can see it.

Shaking his head, he backs toward the door.

“Walker, please,” I beg. “Please, just let me call Jackson.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head, harder now. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

With that, he drops the food and water by the door and leaves, once again.

I bury my face in my hands and cry.

God damnit.

THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN, and I jerk awake, staring into the darkness, trying to adjust my eyes as my brain processes what's happening. The pitch-black room is so deep that I can't tell if I'm awake or dreaming. When a light flickers on, I know for sure that I'm awake—and I'm not alone.

I rub my eyes, my body aching as I push up into a sitting position. Walker is pacing the room. I'm not entirely sure why he's here or what he's doing, but when he turns to face me, his face is black and blue. Dried blood coats his lips, and one of his eyes is completely closed.

"Oh my gosh," I croak. "What happened?"

"Hound happened."

His own father did that to him?

That's a bitter feeling I can relate to.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes meet mine, and he looks shocked. "You're actually asking if I'm okay when you're the one in here, being kept away from everyone you love?"

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