Page 46 of Drift
Jax’s glare sharpened. “Not even close.”
He swung again—harder this time—but I was ready. I caught his wrist midair, the impact reverberating through my arm. My fingers locked around his forearm like a vise. I could’ve snapped it if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t. Alanna would be fucking pissed.
“I let you have the first one,” I warned quietly. “You throw another, and I’ll give it back.”
Jax yanked free, his chest rising fast, every breath edged with rage. “You were supposed to protect her, Drift. Not fuck her!”
My blood boiled, but I kept my expression locked down. “First, don’t ever fucking talk like that about her again. Second, she’s not a kid anymore. She doesn’t need protecting from me.”
“She needs to be protected from the world you live in!” he shouted, taking a step forward, fists curling again.
“She can handle it, Jax,” I retorted fiercely. “What does Lark have that Alanna doesn’t? Why do you insist on seeing her as weak? As a child?”
Jax clearly didn’t like the logic in my statement, and he practically spat his next words. “You know what kind of enemies we have. You think you can keep her safe when you’re the target half the time?”
“Watch it.” My tone was flat, but my pulse quickened.
“Why? You think I’m wrong?” His laugh was bitter. “You’re a walking fucking weapon, Drift. You destroy everything you touch. And you brought her into that.”
That tore something loose inside me. I didn’t think—I just moved. My fist connected with his cheekbone, the soundcracking through the salt-heavy air. His head snapped back, a spray of spit and blood catching the light.
Kane exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his beard as he muttered, “And there it is.”
Jax staggered, his eyes wild, and lunged again. We collided hard, grappling on the packed sand. Both of us held back just enough not to kill each other. There was too much history between us for that—too much loyalty tangled up in the anger.
When my knuckles caught his ribs, he grunted and came back with a punch to my gut that stole the air from my lungs. We broke apart, both breathing hard, the wind carrying our curses across the beach.
“This ends now!” Jax roared, shoving at me with everything he had left.
I caught him by the collar and threw him down on the sand, pinning him with a forearm across his chest. My breath came out in harsh pulls, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue. My voice was low and guttural when I snarled, “You wanna hit me, fine. But I’m not letting her go.”
“That’s my sister,” he ground out, his eyes blazing up at me.
“She’s mine.” The words tore from my chest before I could think better of them. “I asked Kane to order her vest the second I realized I’d die without her.”
That got Jax’s attention. His head snapped toward me, disbelief etched across his face.
Kane finally pushed off the post. “Enough.” His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried.
I stood first, brushing the sand off my hands, my jaw still aching. Jax got up slower, swiping his arm across his face. His eyes cut toward me—still furious, but not ready to throw another punch.
Jax paced a few steps away and raked a hand through his hair, his jaw tight, but the fight was still burning in his eyes. “You crossed a line, brother.”
“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice rough. “And I’ll have to live with that. But I’d do it again. I’d do anything for her.”
The fight went out of him in an instant. The tension that had been thrumming in the air snapped, leaving only silence and the crash of distant waves. Jax stared up at me, breathing hard, the anger in his expression shifting—confusion, disbelief, and maybe even a flash of understanding.
“You two done?” Kane shaped it as a question, but we both knew he expected to be obeyed.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” Jax echoed after a moment, his voice rough.
Kane nodded once. “Good. Then let’s get back inside before you scare the hell out of Alanna.”
I met Jax’s gaze one more time. Whatever else was coming, this part was over. For now.
We turned toward the porch, blood still drying on our knuckles, and headed back inside.
