Page 16 of Jax
“You’ve been through enough, I’m sure,” he said, voice even and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. “We’re not here to interrogate you. Not tonight. What matters is that you’re safe. This house runs on rules that keep everyone breathing, but you’ll have time to learn them. To breathe. To settle.”
The words slid under my skin in a way that felt dangerous. Kindness from men like this could be a blade in disguise. Still, I couldn’t deny the pressure in my chest eased a fraction. “Thank you, N-Nikolai. It has been a rather long few days. A breath is exactly what I need, I think.”
To my left, Sully leaned against the wall, forearms crossed over a chest built like a tank. The man looked like he’d been chiseled out of granite and then fed spinach for good measure. Popeye in the flesh. But there was mischief glinting in his eyes, softening the bulk of him. Not a threat, unless he wanted to be.
Deacon was all silence in the far corner, immovable, watchful. Carrick was nowhere in sight, which somehow made me feel him more. His absence pressed in like a shadow you couldn’t shake.
And Jax, calm and unreadable, stayed locked on me. His stillness was its own kind of intensity, a weight pressing on my skin. Not judgment. Something sharper.
Nikolai’s voice pulled me back. “Now, there are two other people here who would very much like to meet you. They’ve been waiting upstairs. We didn’t want to crowd you.”
As if on cue, a feminine voice rang from the landing above—bright, impatient, and impossible to ignore. “Can we come down now? Pleeease?”
Carrick’s groan carried from the shadows. “Here we go.” But his smirk gave him away, his eyes already lifting toward the doorway.
Nikolai sighed and tipped his head back. “Yes.” He called back to the unseen voice. “But be nice.”
Two sets of footsteps pattered down the stairs, lighter and quicker than the men’s. A younger woman arrived first—bubbly, high energy, like the room tilted to fit her. “Hi! I’m Maddie.” Her grin was infectious, her voice a rush of warmth. “Listen, we’ve been exactly where you are. Recently. And I meanexactly where you are. It’s terrifying, it’s confusing, and it makes you feel like you’re drowning. But you’re not alone. We’re upstairs if you need us. Anytime. No judgment.”
A second woman came after, a quiet counterweight. Where Maddie flared, this girl steadied. Her tone was low, calm, carrying a quiet authority that slipped under the noise. “Good to meet you. I’m Bellamy. She’s right. We know what it’s like to be dropped into this. To not know who to trust. If you need someone to talk to, or just someone to sit with, we’re here. On your time. On your terms.”
Then both of them turned on the men.
Maddie’s brow arched. “You’re being nice, right?”
Bellamy’s voice followed, softer but no less cutting. “Don’t push her.”
The atmosphere shifted; not resistance, not irritation, but a subtle yielding. Even these hard-edged men knew when to stand down, apparently.
It should have helped. Should have eased the knot under my ribs. Instead, it only sharpened the reminder: Violet was still out there. Every second I sat here was another second wasted.
I wasn’t built for silence. For obedience. But if biting my tongue bought me time, if it kept her alive, I’d choke on it until my teeth cracked.
Nikolai smiled at Maddy, and nodded. “Yes, we are being nice. I was just about to ask Sully to show her up to her room. Perhaps you would like to accompany them?”
Maddy giggled and clapped her hands. “Of course I do! Come on, Stella, let’s go! I’ve made sure everything is ready for you.”
I stood slowly and plastered a smile on my face. This girl was… a lot. But I couldn’t let my frustration show. It wasn’t her fault. I was sure she was lovely, but there was just so much coming at me all at once; it was hard to process it all. “Lead the way, please. A bed sounds great right now.” I hoped my tone came across as relieved, and not annoyed.
Sully and Maddy led me up the stairs and to the bedroom Nikolai had described, Maddy chattering all the way. Sully opened the door and stepped back, motioning me to enter. I crossed the threshold slowly, scanning out of instinct before I let myself breathe. It was simple. Back corner of the house, just how I would’ve chosen it. Fewer shared walls. Fewer surprises. The window faced the tree line, and my stomach twisted the moment I saw it. Thirty yards of open ground. Maybe more. No cover. No slope. Just a sprint to nowhere.
The room itself was clean and clinical. A bed against the far wall with a black quilt folded tight. White sheets. A plain desk beneath the window. A dresser I could inventory in thirty seconds flat. The air smelled faintly of cedar and disinfectant, like someone had wiped the place down to make sure it smelled like nothing at all. Neutral. Erased.
Then I turned and saw the deadbolt—installed from the inside.
Something within me stilled.
I stared at it longer than I should have, trying to decide if it was meant to reassure me… or warn me. They weren’t worried about me getting out.
They were worried about something getting in.
Sully caught my expression and, instead of pointing it out, let out a low whistle like he’d just uncovered a scandal worth gossiping about. With an exaggerated sweep of his arm, he crossed to the bed and dropped a soft canvas tote on the corner, patting it with the flair of a man presenting a trophy.
“Courtesy of Maddy,” he announced, giving the bag a quick fingertip drumroll before jerking his chin toward the woman behind him. “She packed this up herself—clothes, toiletries, snacks. Girl practically forced me to raid half of Target to make sure you’d be set. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She may be small, but she can be scary when toiletries are involved. If she could’ve fit a weighted blanket and a therapy dog in here, she would’ve.”
Maddy laughed, entering the room and giving Sully a light slap. “Oh, stop it, you. Stella, if I forgot anything, or if there isanythingyou think of that you need, please reach out. I’ll make sure these big dummies pick out the right stuff, okay? Your shopping needs are safe with me.”
I didn’t respond right away. Not out of rudeness, but because the idea of someone I didn’t know packing a bag for me—guessing at what I might need, what I might wear, what I might want when I was alone and scared—touched something in me I wasn’t ready to look at yet. I moved toward the window instead, redirecting my focus, because survival depended on where I put my attention.
