Page 50 of Fire Bound

Whatever childlike innocence he had was sucked out of him and replaced with wickedness when Kaius brought him back. He can’t be more than five years old, but here he is, a knife coated in my blood in his hand as he comes toward me with a warped grin on his face.

I attempt to back away as he charges at me once more with the blade held high, but before he can slash me, I’m abruptly yanked up from under the shoulders and lifted out of harm’s way. A noise, more animal than human comes from him. It’s one I’ve never heard before and it sends a shiver down my spine. My wolf’s ears perk with interest instead of fear. Jax dumps me behind him and places his body between me and the possessed child.

The boy laughs almost manically as he attempts to cut Jax. The next time he swings wildly, the demon takes hold of his tiny arm and jerks the knife free. The blade skids across the floor out of sight as it disappears under one of the clothing bins.

Jax dangles the kid in the air by its arm. The child fights and thrashes in the hold, but it’s no use against Jax’s strength. As he tries to fight, his manic laughs turn into pissed-off screams. The haunting sound bounces off the stone walls.

“Remington.” Jax’s tone is cold, and it immediately sets me on edge. “Go stand outside by the door but stay where I can see you.”

Holding my hand over my cut, I shake my head. “What? No. I’m staying.”

“No!” he roars, his purple eyes flashing as he turns to look at me. “For once, just do what I fucking say. I don’t want you to see this.”

It takes me a second to figure out what he’s referring to, but when I do, my stomach sinks. “Jax…”

His face is completely impassive, not a single emotion written on his devastatingly handsome face. “Leave, Remi,” he pleads over the screaming child.

With one last look at the pair, I slowly back out of the room. Sorrow and remorse follow me like a black cloud. This shouldn’t have ever happened. He might not be in any pain, but no one should ever subject a child to this.

Once I’m out of the room and I’m turned away with my back pressed to the doorframe, I hear the slight struggle. Not once does the frustrated screaming stop. At one point I heard Jax make a grunting noise, making me think the kid was able to land a blow at some point.

It’s so faint, I almost miss it but through the shrieking, I hear my hellhound whisper, “I’m sorry.” Then there is a cracking sound that makes my stomach roll and my throat tighten as nausea works its way through my body.

Just like that, the screaming stops and the silence becomes deafening.

I stand there, breathing hard for a moment, before I force myself to turn back around. Jax doesn’t want me to see what he’s done, but I told him I’d be there for him, and I know without a doubt, he needs some support and empathy right now. He can deny it until he’s blue in the face, but I know him better than either of us are willing to admit.

Reentering the quiet room, I find Jax searching through the bins. He doesn’t turn to look at me, but I know he knows I’m here by the way his muscles go stiff. When he finally finds a large piece of fabric that’s almost bedsheet-like, he takes it over to where he left the boy. I can’t see the body. Only a tiny set of dated dress shoes stick out from behind the bins.

Without a word, Jax covers the boy with the sheet. He stands over the small body for a second longer before finally turning and looking at me. “He wasn’t a kid,” he explains to me like he somehow needs to justify what just happened. “Not anymore, anyway. “

“I know.”

“It had to be done.”

“I know,” I repeat.

He stands there staring at me like he’s still expecting me to lose it on him or to freak out. When I don’t, he finally gives a curt nod before his hands grip the hem of his black shirt. With one quick yank, he rips the fabric. Stalking toward me, he takes my wounded arm in his gentle grip and ties the fabric around the cut. “It’ll be healed soon, but this will help stop you from bleeding everywhere.”

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“Let’s go.”

Side by side, in heavy silence, we leave the room and journey farther into the building. I don’t push Jax to talk, whatever is going on in his head he needs to work through himself. There aren’t any words I can offer him right now. He already knows I don’t judge him for what just happened, he just needs a second to come to peace with it himself. I want to kill Sterling and Kaius for continuously putting Jax in these kinds of positions. How many times has he had to do such ugly deeds because of them?

He hasn’t told me about them in detail, but the way he and Beau talk about their time in the organization, I know they’ve been made to do horrific things.

We climb a metal staircase. At the very top, we come to a metal door with a high-tech security panel that looks completely out of place on it. Jax rubs his fingers together before pressing his palm to the device. I can’t see it, but the slight hum of power in the air that makes the hairs on my arms rise lets me know he’s using his power.

The panel makes a high pitched buzzing noise before all the lights begin flashing in disarray, before finally the whole thing begins smoking as the wires are fried by hellfire. After a second, the locking mechanism buzzes, and the door opens for us.

Side-eyeing him, I mumble, “Show off,” before walking through the door, not bothering to let him go first.

The light I had so desperately wanted just twenty minutes ago blinds me as I enter the brightly lit portion of the building. Without a doubt, this is what we’ve been looking for. There isn’t any discarded textile equipment, or ominously dark rooms. No, instead I feel like I’ve walked into some fancy office building. Everything is made of glass and the bright white floors and walls make the place feel bright. It’s clean. Sterile.

Instead of the disgusting smell of death that polluted the air downstairs, this space reeks of gasoline. Like someone has dumped gallons of it out all over the space.

Straining my ears, I listen for any movement, but it’s so quiet.

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