Page 115 of Jax
“She told us not because she had to. Because she couldn’t carry it alone anymore. That’s not betrayal. That’s courage. Cornered, bleeding, and still choosing to speak.”
The room didn’t lighten, but something shifted. The weight redistributed, settling across shoulders that knew the difference between silence and sabotage.
Bellamy stepped forward, arms no longer folded like a shield. Her voice was cool, but not cold. “You were right to be scared. After everything that happened with Rayden, trust me when I say I understand. But if you’re going to truly be a part of this family now, you have to stop rationing the truth. The guys can’t protect what we don’t know exists.”
I nodded, small but sharp. “I’m trying.”
And I was. Not just to survive, but to belong. Maybe this was the cost, bleeding truth in front of people who might never unsee the wound.
Silence settled next. Not angry. Just heavy. A room full of men recalibrating everything they thought they knew, with me in the middle of it.
Jax finally broke it. “There are still good cops. Just not enough. And not where it counts.”
He didn’t raise his voice or try to soften the blow. He let the words land solid, like puzzle pieces snapping into place after weeks of chaos.
“Quinn’s one of the good ones, you know. Not because of the badge. Because he stopped trusting it years ago. He’s been tracking internal corruption for over two years, quiet, methodical, the right way. He knows what happens when you burn a system from the outside. The fire spreads. You have to start from the rot and work outward.”
I shifted, tension still riding high across my shoulders. “That’s a long time to be alone in it.”
“He’s not,” Jax said. “The Chief’s clean too. Retired spec ops. Lost two close friends in a Dom Krovi op back in ’09. He doesn’t blink when you say the name. He might not trust the city anymore, but he trusts Quinn. And Quinn trusts us.”
His voice stayed tight, every word coiled with intent. “But that’s where it stops. Beyond them, we’re blind. And what you’ve told us confirms what we feared. The leak isn’t some careless detective. It’s someone high-ranking. Strategic. Probably embedded in Organized Crime or Internal Affairs.”
The room shifted. Not with noise. With pressure. The air itself felt heavier now. Because this wasn’t just about me. Or Violet. This was about rot in the foundation, corruption wearing the face of law, bleeding trust from the walls meant to hold it.
Jax’s gaze cut to mine. Not cruel. Not warm. Just sharp and specific, like he was reading data etched into my skin.
“You weren’t just kidnapped,” he said. “You were conditioned to doubt every version of safety the rest of us still take for granted. So when you got here, your instincts screamed to lie, to watch, to guard. That wasn’t a failure. That was survival.”
Carrick’s jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet. Sully didn’t shift. Even Deacon looked like he was rethinking everything he thought he knew.
“The Dom Krovi doesn’t operate like a gang,” Jax went on. “They move like a corporation, with lots of resources and no conscience. They don’t have to shoot us. They can pay someone with a badge to walk us into the fire. They don’t hack the system. Theyarethe system.”
That was it. The dread I hadn’t been able to name. The slow realization that corruption in uniform couldn’t be outmatched with reason. It had to be outlived. Outlasted.
“And that’s why your intel matters,” he said, leaning forward, both hands braced against the table. “You gave us more than leads. You gave us a pattern. Facts we can use. We don’t have to wonder anymore.”
His voice dropped, not louder, just deeper. Like the truth had weight, and he was speaking it directly into the bones of the room.
“We follow the thread. Cut the infection. When we hit back, it won’t be blind.”
It didn’t need repeating. I already knew where it began.
With me.
Carrick’s voice came low, measured. “If they’ve got cops, we plan for betrayal.”
Niko gave a curt nod. “And loyalty better be earned in blood.”
Deacon stepped forward, arms crossed, voice even. “We’ve had a dozen puzzles missing the corner. Maybe now we see the edge.”
Around us, the atmosphere shifted. A collective recalibration, as if my truth had rebalanced the air itself. I didn’t move. Just sat there, locked in place, trying to absorb the magnitude of what I’d done to this room. Jax returned to theseat beside me, his hand finding mine beneath the table. And somewhere in the wreckage, beneath fear, guilt, and the ache of confession, hope took hold. Not soft. Not sweet. But forged. Sharp. Clean.
I foundhim just after midnight, the deck warm beneath my feet, still dissipating the heat of the late summer sun. Jax stood at the railing, squared and still, head bowed, as if he were reconstructing a battlefield from memory. He didn’t turn when the door creaked, or when I stopped behind him.
“I need to find her,” I said, voice worn thin. “I have to.” He didn’t move, and I filled the silence with everything I hadn’t dared say. “I know what you’re thinking. That the odds are bad. That waiting’s safer. But she’s out there. Maybe bleeding. Maybe calling for me. And I can’t stay still while that’s true. I won’t.”
I wrapped my arms around my ribs, grief folding in on itself like a storm. “She’s not just my sister. She’s the reason I survived long enough to get here. And if I lose her, if I waited too long, I’ll never forgive myself.”
