Page 85 of Jax
She half-turned, just enough for me to see the glint in her eyes. Wariness still lived there, but it wasn’t alone anymore. It had company now. Something like heat. Maybe even hope.
“Don’t get cocky.”
I let a smile curl, not too wide, just enough to feel like a secret passed between us.
“Too late.”
She left on her own breath. The door didn’t close like goodbye. It closed like a bookmark—intentional, unfinished, waiting. When the quiet settled, I didn’t move. I let the tension hum in my ribs, let it ache the way truth sometimes does. Then I exhaled, long and low, into the space she left behind.
Because what she gave me tonight wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t trust. It was the blueprint of a woman rebuilding herself from memory and fire.
And when she came back—not if, but when—I wouldn’t meet her where she’d been. I’d meet her where she was going.
And I’d be the one holding the fucking map.
20
Stella
The door clicked shutbehind me as I entered Jax’s room, soft as a dare, and for a moment, I stood in the hush, barefoot on the hardwood, heart thudding like it might give away the ending before I even stepped inside.
Three days had passed since I’d told Jax I wanted to try again. Three long, quiet days where nothing had happened—except everything. Jax hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t hovered. He’d just given me space, the kind that meant something. We had passed each other in the hallway, shared a room now and then, and every time, his eyes found mine like a question he didn’t need to voice. And every time, I almost answered. Almost.
But it wasn’t just Jax haunting those in-between hours. It was Violet. Her name lived under my skin like a current, soft but relentless, and I couldn’t stop wondering if she was scared, or hurt, or still believed I was coming. No one else even knew she was gone. Not the Reapers. Not the police. Just me, and the people who had taken her. The ones who made the rules clear with a voice that didn’t leave room for doubt. If I told anyone, she’d die. And I believed them, not out of fear, but certainty.These weren’t people who bluffed. They didn’t threaten. They promised.
So, I stayed silent and wore the truth like armor laced with acid, letting it eat me from the inside while I played a role I didn’t believe in. Every hour I kept my mouth shut tasted like betrayal, but each time I tried to speak, the image of her bleeding stopped me cold. I told myself to think logically, that silence kept her safe, but fear doesn’t answer to logic. It answers to loss. And my brain replayed every possibility like a broken reel, each one darker than the last, each one ending with me being too late.
The shame hit hardest when I admitted I had no real path forward. The Reapers were chasing leads about the mafia’s bigger plans. The cops had their theories about why they’d tried to steal my business. None of them knew she was even missing. If I moved without clearance, I could get her killed. And survival sometimes meant surrendering to what couldn’t be changed. I couldn’t out-think trained killers, or stop a machine already in motion. The most useful thing I could do was stay whole, hold my pieces together long enough to act when the world cracked open. Because it would. And when it did, I needed to be the kind of woman Violet could look at and know; she came for me.
But tonight wasn’t about fear, or betrayal, or loss. It was about reclaiming myself. It was about proving that there was at least one person in this world that I could trust with my most vulnerable self, even if not my deepest truths.
Jax stood at the center of the room, barefoot and still. His black T-shirt stretched across shoulders that had once pinned me down and held me up, sleeves cuffed around his arms like a habit he didn’t think about. Scruff shadowed his jaw, catching the light in a way that made him look carved from something rough and unyielding. He didn’t speak, just watched me witha steadiness that felt like gravity—anchored, patient, already waiting.
The bed behind him was neatly turned down, but it wasn’t the linens that caught my breath. It was what waited atop them: a stack of narrow white paper strips, a roll of tape, and silver scissors.
He nodded toward them like he was offering a truth instead of a toy. “No rope tonight,” he said, voice low enough to hum along my spine. “No knots. Just paper. You could break it with a flick of your wrist.” He stepped closer with a purpose that didn’t press, every move deliberate and quiet as sin. “That’s the point,” he murmured. “I don’t want you trapped. I want you to choose.”
My chest pulled tight, not with fear, but with something deeper. That kind of ache that only comes when someone sees every bent, bruised shape you’ve tried to hide, and doesn’t look away. I hadn’t felt whole since waking up in my bedroom after being kidnapped. It was like they’d stolen not only my peace, but a part of my soul.
But Jax didn’t want perfection. He wanted openness. He offered softness like it was strength. Surrender, not as a prize to be earned, but a gift I was free to give. I could walk away. And the fact that he trusted me to draw the line made me want to give him everything.
He led me to the center of the room and stood facing me, close enough that I could feel his breath, and see the steady throbbing of his pulse in the veins of his neck. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on a different edge. He wasn’t just Jax the computer whiz anymore. He was in charge in a way I was only beginning to understand.
“Tonight is all about choosing the restraints. Knowing that I will untie you from rope is one thing, but understanding that you can rip the restraint away easily at any point drives the truth home in a deeper way. Choosing to remain under my controlbecomes an act of victory, not just surrender. Does that make sense?”
I nodded my understanding. He gave a brief smile and lifted one hand to cup my cheek. The touch was electric, and my breath stuttered for a moment, causing his smile to deepen. “Good girl. Are you ready? We are going to begin now.”
He met my gaze like he already knew the answer. When he reached for the first strip of paper, I didn’t flinch. This wasn’t just about control. It was about reverence. And I was done pretending I didn’t want to be worshipped.
“Can I have your wrist?” he asked, voice spun from velvet and heat. Not a command, but an invitation shaped to fit the space between fear and freedom.
I gave it to him slowly, like the offering it was. My wrist lifted with purpose, not panic, because this wasn’t just about restraint. It was about trust, the kind that lived in scars, and still chose softness. His fingers curled around mine with care sharp as devotion, and when the paper wrapped my skin, it didn’t bind. It whispered. A vow without demands. A question I didn’t have to answer.
He sealed it gently, then leaned in. His breath grazed my ear, his mouth close enough to tilt the axis of the room.
“You could rip it,” he said, low and steady. “Right now. It all ends.”
His words landed softly, but struck like a match across dry stone, and my whole body stilled beneath the weight of something I hadn’t realized I needed until this moment, even though he had already explained it. Icouldstop this. He would let me. No questions, no consequences, just quiet consent. And still, every part of me throbbed with the truth that I didn’t want to stop. I wanted him to keep going.
