Page 112 of Jax
Something shifted. Not lust. Not tension. Something quieter and stronger, like the beginning of an equation we’d solve, one variable at a time. And I was ready to run every number.
She laid back down and curled up against me, her back to my chest, asking to be held without saying a word. I obliged without hesitation, curling around her and enveloping her in my warmth. She gave a deep, contented sigh, and closed her eyes.
Then came the quiet. Not the kind that follows surrender, but something more brittle. The kind that curls behind your eyes like smoke from a fire you thought you’d put out. Her body stayed warm, marked, steady against mine, but inside, something edged away. Not far. Just enough to register. Just enough to ache.
She hadn’t spoken since curling into my side. No teasing. No smirking. No soft sounds of hunger. And slowly I felt her body tense up a few percentage points, muscles coiling like she waspreparing to go into fight or flight. I wasn’t exactly worried, but concern did paint creases across my forehead as I tried to parse out what caused the shift.
I didn’t ask right away. Just let my hand move along the curve of her spine, not to seduce, but to read. Like easing tension from a muscle before a tie. Like grounding a trauma patient and hoping they won’t flinch. Like reverence, if I believed in God. And if that patient were divine.
When I finally spoke, I kept my voice low, quiet enough not to startle. “Talk to me, wicked girl. You’re thinking so loud it’s shaking the air.”
She didn’t flinch. But her fingers twitched, and her breath caught, not in fear or arousal, but something else.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice quieter now, stripped of all armor. “But I’m afraid that when I do, it will change everything. That it will put someone, and everyone, in danger.”
I breathed in. Slow. Feeling a coil of worry knot in my gut. But I cultivated patience and kept my tone calm.
“You let me suspend you in midair. You’ve told me things without speaking, let me touch your hunger and your heart in the same breath. You really think a few words could scare me now?”
Her laugh cracked faintly, but it was real.
“I’ve told you a lot about me,” she said, shifting just enough to brace on her elbow. The blanket slipped from her shoulder, and I didn’t fix it. Didn’t move. Let her own the moment, however it came.
“But not everything.”
I didn’t chase it. Just held my gaze steady. “I never asked for everything. I asked for honesty. When you’re ready.”
She nodded once, sharply, like bracing for impact.
“I have a sister.”
The words dropped heavy. Not casual. Not ordinary. They ripped out of her like a confession under pressure, leaving silence ringing in their wake.
My pulse kicked hard. It wasn’t the fact itself; it was the way her voice carried it. “Okay,” I said carefully. “Why does that sound like a confession?”
Her throat bobbed. “Her name is Violet. She’s younger. Two years. The steady one. Lists, schedules, the kind of person who makes sure the world doesn’t tilt while I’m off welding or blowing things up. She kept the studio running when I was chaos.” Her breath shuddered out. “She’s the reason it worked at all.”
Her hands clenched tighter on her knees, knuckles whitening. “And I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t seethiscoming. Not these men showing up at the studio. Not them dragging this world straight to my door.” Her voice cracked, rising. “But least of all—that they wouldn’t just come after me.” The words broke apart, spilling like she couldn’t stop them. Her face crumpled, tears sliding fast. “And now… now she’s gone.”
The weight hit low and hard. Dread pressed behind my sternum, thick and inevitable. I forced my voice steady. “Stella… what do you mean, gone?”
Her head jerked up, eyes wet and wild. “They took her.”
The words landed like a strike I’d been bracing for and still couldn’t absorb. My jaw tightened, throat dry. “Who did?”
Her answer came out like a blade, sharp and trembling. “The Dom Krovi.”
The words weren’t dramatic. Just stripped. A truth too raw to dress itself in metaphor. My spine straightened, instinct overriding softness, body turning cold while my mind caught fire.
“When?”
Her jaw trembled. “The day I was brought to the precinct. Detective Mercado picked me up from the Recorder of Deed’s office and took me in for questioning. I wasn’t in that room five minutes before a voice came over the intercom. Not Quinn. Not anyone I knew.”
There’s a moment when language fails, when words stop functioning as tools and start calcifying into something that can only be choked on. I barely got mine out.
“What did it say?”
She looked at me, and I swear to God, I felt the guilt in her eyes like static across my skin. “It said they had Violet. Said if I wanted to see her alive again, I had to cooperate. Not right then. Later. Once I got where I was going.”
