Page 40 of Jax
The name spilled out of him on a sob. The last one. The guy who’d been pulling strings in the dark.
I stared into his eyes for a beat, then I put a bullet between them.
Blood pooled under the chair. I washed my hands in the sink until the water ran clear. When I took the gloves off, my fingers were steady.
I wasn’t satisfied. Not angry. Just finished with this part.
One left. That’s all.
I holstered my pistol and headed for the stairs.
Edge was waiting when I came up, and his eyes caught mine.
“Got it.”
“On your six,” he returned, already moving.
We rode out at midnight, engines low, two predators on the hunt. The location was a rundown house on the edge of town, roof sagging and porch half-rotted. A light flickered in the front window.
We killed the engines two blocks back, rolled the rest in silence. Boots hitting the dirt, our weapons in hand.
The door creaked under my push.
He barely had time to reach for his gun.
Edge slammed him back against the wall, pinning him like prey, and I raised my weapon.
One shot. Quiet. Brutal. Over.
The body slid down the plaster, leaving a smear of red.
Cold satisfaction hit like ice water in my chest.Now she’s free.
Edge clapped my shoulder once, then we walked out, leaving the house to rot behind us.
It was deep into the night when I rolled back through the compound gates. The air was thick with the silence that followed storms—still, heavy, and almost sacred.
Kane stood outside his office, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes scanned me once, reading every drop of blood, soot, and exhaustion.
He handed me a plain black garment bag.
“She’s yours. Make it official when you’re ready.”
My throat tightened as the words landed in places I didn’t show people. I just nodded, took it, and walked away.
My room was dark and cool. I set the bag on the bed, unzipped it, and folded the plastic back like I was undressing something sacred. The vest lay inside, black leather, freshly stitched. It was smaller than mine, cut for her frame. The words on the patch were simple and not up for debate.
PROPERTY OF JAX.
The sight hit like a punch. Heat in my chest, sharp enough to hurt. Everyone would know she was mine. More than that—she’d know.
I set it in the closet, careful and reverent, staring for a long time. The weight of it anchored me.
Then I stripped and stepped under water hot enough to bite. Blood and soot went down the drain in the shower as the steam filled my head and made the edges of the world soften. I scrubbed until the skin on my knuckles protested. Cuts I hadn’t noted earlier stung when soap found them. None of them mattered.
When I padded back into the room, towel slung low and hair damp, Lark was there. Curled on her side, sheets tangled around her legs. Breathing soft, steady. Peaceful.
I slid in behind her, the mattress tilting under my weight, my body still humming with the last vestiges of adrenaline from the night as I pulled her back against my chest. My arms locked around her.
