Page 467 of Rage

I obey, locking my gaze with his. The intensity I see there–the raw need, the fierce protectiveness–pushes me over the edge. When I come, it's with a scream that's part pleasure, part release of all the pent-up emotions I've been carrying. Jaz follows soon after, his body shuddering against mine as he buries his face in the crook of my neck.

We lay there for a long moment, sweat cooling on our skin, neither of us willing to break the silence. Finally, Jaz props himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes searching mine.

"Are you okay?" he asks, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

I nod, surprised to find that I am. For the first time in months, I feel truly present in my own body. The constant undercurrent of fear and shame that's been my companion since that night on the beach has quieted, replaced by a sense of power and control.

"I'm more than okay," I tell him.

Jaz's eyes soften, a rare vulnerability flickering across his face. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing gently across my cheekbone. "You're incredible, little Bee," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "So strong, so fierce."

I lean into his touch, savoring the warmth of his skin against mine. For a moment, we stay like that, suspended in a bubble of intimacy that feels both fragile and unbreakable.

But the real world intrudes, as it always does. A car horn blares outside, shattering the silence. Jaz tenses, his body coiling with sudden alertness. I feel the shift in him, the return of the hardened warrior.

"We should get cleaned up," he says, already moving to stand. "We have work to do."

I nod, pushing myself up from the mat. My body aches in a dozen places, a delicious soreness that reminds me I'm alive, I'm here, I'm fighting back. As I gather my scattered clothes, I catch Jaz watching me, his dark eyes unreadable.

"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Just admiring my handiwork," he says, gesturing to the constellation of bruises blooming across my skin. "You wear them well, little fighter."

Heat rises to my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and pride. These marks are different from the ones that came before. These, I chose. These, I earned.

We shower separately, the sound of running water a poor substitute for the intimacy we just shared. When I emerge, skin pink from the heat and hair dripping, Jaz is already dressed and bent over his laptop.

"Come here," he says, not looking up from the screen. "I think I've found something."

I pad over, curiosity overriding any lingering awkwardness. Jaz's fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up documents and social media profiles faster than I can process.

"Ethan," he says, his voice hard. "He's planning a party this weekend. Big one, out at his family's beach house."

My breath catches in my throat. "The same place where..."

Jaz nods, his jaw clenched tight. "The very same. Seems our golden boy likes to revisit the scene of his crimes."

A cold fury settles in my chest, icy tendrils wrapping around my heart. "What are you thinking?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

Jaz turns to me, his eyes glittering with dark promise. "I'm thinking it's time we crash a party, little Bee. What do you say? Ready to face your demons?"

Fear and anticipation war within me, but I push them both aside. I meet Jaz's gaze, steel in my voice as I reply, "Let's do it," I say, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. "It's time to make them pay."

Jaz's eyes darken with approval, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That's my girl," he murmurs, his hand coming to rest on the nape of my neck. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, a potent mix of comfort and excitement.

We spend the next few days in intense preparation. Jaz drills me on every aspect of our plan, his patience seemingly endless as he walks me through each step. We go over contingencies, escape routes, signals. By the time Friday night rolls around, I feel like I've memorized every grain of sand on that cursed beach.

As I stand before the mirror, applying the finishing touches to my makeup, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. Gone is the soft, vulnerable girl from before. In her place stands someone harder, sharper. My blue eyes, once wide with innocence, now hold a predatory gleam that matches Jaz's. My hair hasn’t seen a hairdresser since the attack, so instead of the shortened bleached bob it's now back to its normal honey blonde, the waves falling down to my waist.

"You ready, little Bee?" Jaz asks, appearing in the doorway behind me. His eyes rake over my form, appreciation evident in his gaze.

I nod, smoothing down the front of my dress. It's black, form-fitting, with strategic cutouts that show just enough skinto be enticing. A far cry from the bright pinks and light colors I used to wear, from what I wore that fateful night. But then again, I'm not the same person anymore.

"Let's go hunt some monsters," I say, my voice low and dangerous.

The drive to the beach house is a journey through memory and shadow. Jaz's sleek black car purrs down the coastal highway, headlights cutting through the gathering dusk. The ocean stretches out beside us, an inky expanse that seems to swallow the fading light. I watch the waves crash against the shore, each one a heartbeat of anticipation.

"You okay?" Jaz asks, his eyes flicking between me and the road. His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with a gentle squeeze.

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