Eliana Carter POV

Tyler's estate party was less of a social gathering and more of a mandatory summons for the junior circle. If you were under twenty-five and your last name carried weight in the Outfit, you were there.

Technically, I shouldn't have gone. My knee was heavily wrapped in an ACE bandage, hidden beneath the fabric of my wide-leg trousers. I was limping slightly, favoring the injury with every step.

But staying home would look like defeat. And I wasn't defeated. For the first time in years, I was liberated.

I stood by the bar, nursing a club soda while the whispers followed me like a cloud of gnats. Everyone knew about the pool. Everyone knew about the stairs.

"Eliana."

Mason Riley nodded at me as he approached. He was Jax's best friend, a Consigliere in training, and right now, he looked at me with unbearable pity. "You look... good."

"I am good, Mason," I said, keeping my voice even.

Then, the room went dead quiet.

Jax walked in. Catalina was draped on his arm. She was wearing a dress that cost more than my car-a gift from him, no doubt.

He scanned the room, hunting for me. When his eyes locked onto mine, he lifted his chin. A challenge.

He expected me to run. He expected me to cry.

Instead, I took a slow sip of my soda and turned back to Mason. "So, tell me about the new shipment."

Mason blinked, surprised by my dismissal. "Uh, yeah. Well..."

Jax didn't like that. He steered Catalina toward us, carving a violent path through the crowd.

"Enjoying the night?" Jax asked, stopping right behind me. His presence was a heavy weight against my back.

I turned slowly. "It's fine. A bit crowded."

"I heard you went to the hospital," he said. His tone wasn't concerned; it was probing. He was searching for cracks, wanting to know how much damage he had done.

"Just a sprain," I said breezily. "Nothing permanent."

"Unlike some things," Catalina chimed in, snuggling closer to him.

I looked at her, letting my gaze drag over her outfit. "Enjoy the jersey, Catalina. It's polyester. It doesn't breathe."

The circle around us stifled a laugh. Jax's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Let's play a game," someone shouted from the back. "Truth or Dare!"

It was a childish tradition, but in our world, the dares were dangerous, and the truths were ammunition.

We moved to the sunken living room. Jax sat directly across from me, with Catalina perched on his lap.

The bottle spun. It landed on Catalina.

"Truth or Dare?" Tyler asked.

"Dare," she purred.

Tyler grinned. He was drunk and messy. "I dare you to kiss the King of the night."

It was obvious who he meant. Jax was the highest-ranking male there.

Catalina pretended to be shy. She looked at me through her lashes. "Oh, I couldn't. It might upset Eliana."

The room went silent. They waited for my reaction. They waited for the jealousy, the rage, the tears.

I checked my watch, feigning boredom. "Why would I care?" I asked, my voice steady. "He's not my concern."

Jax stiffened. His ego took the hit like a physical blow. He was used to my adoration, my desperate need for his approval. Indifference was a language he didn't speak.

He seized Catalina's face.

Then, he kissed her.

It wasn't romantic. It was brutal. It was a display of ownership and dominance, meant to mark her and humiliate me. He ground his mouth against hers, making a show of it, his eyes open, staring right at me.

He was daring me to look away.

I didn't. I watched with the clinical detachment of a scientist observing a lab rat.

When he finally pulled away, Catalina was breathless and smeared with lipstick. Jax looked triumphant.

"She's a better fit anyway," Jax announced to the room, his voice loud. "A real woman knows how to please her man."

The insult hung in the air. It was a direct attack on my honor, implying I was inadequate.

Mason looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight. "Jax, maybe take it easy."

"Why?" Jax sneered. "Eliana doesn't mind. Do you, Ellie?"

He used the nickname only he was allowed to use.

I stood up. My knee throbbed, but I put all my weight on it, refusing to flinch.

"You're right, Jax," I said. "I don't mind. Because to be offended, I would have to value your opinion."

I grabbed my purse.

"And frankly," I added, looking him dead in the eye, "I don't think about you at all."

I walked away.

I felt his rage burning into my back, hotter than the kiss he had just shared. He had tried to break me publicly.

Instead, he had only proven that he was already broken.

Eliana Carter POV

I needed air.

The estate was suffocating, choked with the stench of expensive cologne and cheap morality. It clung to the back of my throat, making it hard to swallow.

I slipped down the hallway toward the guest bathroom, intending to splash cold water on my face to shock my system back into focus.

The door to the study was slightly ajar.

I heard voices.

"You went too far, man," Mason's voice drifted out, low and tense. "Disrespecting her like that in front of the crew? Her father is a made man."

"Her father answers to my father," Jax's voice cut in. It was arrogant, dismissive. "And Eliana answers to me."

I froze, my breath hitching in my chest. I pressed myself against the wall, making myself small.

"She's done, Jax," Mason said. "Did you see her eyes? She's checked out."

Jax laughed. It was a cold, cruel sound that scraped against my nerves.

"She's throwing a tantrum, Mason. That's all this is. She thinks she can freeze me out? Please. She's been obsessed with me since kindergarten."

I heard the clink of glass against crystal.

"I'm just teaching her a lesson," Jax continued, his tone smooth, conversational. "She needs to be broken a little. She was getting too comfortable, too demanding. I'll play with Catalina for a few weeks, let Eliana stew in her misery. When she's desperate enough, when she's begging for scraps, I'll take her back."

My stomach churned violently.

"You treat her like a dog," Mason said quietly.

"She's an asset," Jax replied. "High-value property, but property nonetheless. Once I break her spirit, she'll be the perfect wife. Silent. Obedient. Grateful."

I stopped breathing.

It wasn't just arrogance. It was a strategy. He was systematically trying to destroy my self-worth so I would never dream of leaving him.

I didn't go to the bathroom.

I turned around and walked straight out the back service entrance.

I walked home. It was three miles. The streets of our neighborhood were safe only because everyone knew who ran them, but walking alone at night was still a risk.

I didn't care. The danger on the streets felt cleaner than the danger in that house.

I limped the whole way, the pain in my knee a grounding rhythm. Left, right, pain. Left, right, pain.

He thought I was a dog. He thought he could kick me and I would come back licking his hand.

I reached my street. My house was dark, my parents likely asleep.

But there was a figure standing on my porch.

The streetlamp illuminated him.

Jax.

He hadn't driven past me. He had simply known where I would go. He had beaten me here.

He was holding a large, thick envelope.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I recognized the logo on the corner.

NYU.

It was my acceptance packet. The one Uncle Sal had expedited.

Jax looked at the envelope, then at me. His expression was unreadable, shadowed by the porch light.

"You're walking with a limp," he said.

"What are you doing here, Jax?"

He held up the envelope. "This came to the main secure mailbox at the compound. It was addressed to you."

He stepped closer, looming over me. "New York University?"

I didn't answer.

"We're going to UCLA," he said. "That's the plan. I run the West Coast operations. You run the house."

"That's your plan," I said.

"There is no other plan!" He slammed the envelope against his thigh. "What is this? Are you actually trying to run away?"

"I'm not running," I said, stepping onto the first step of the porch. "I'm leaving."

"You can't leave." He laughed, but there was an edge of panic in it. "You can't survive out there without me. Who's going to protect you? Who's going to pay for your life?"

"I'd rather starve than eat from your hand," I said.

I reached for the envelope.

He pulled it back out of reach. "You think this is a game? You think you can just apply to another school and disappear?"

"Give me my mail, Jax. It's a federal offense to tamper with it."

"I am the law here!" he shouted.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

He glared at me, breathing hard, then answered it without looking at the screen. "What?"

Catalina's voice was shrill, loud enough for me to hear through the speaker. "Jax! Baby! I think someone is following me! I'm scared! I'm at the gas station on 5th!"

It was a lie. No one followed Outfit associates unless they had a death wish.

Jax looked at me. Then he looked at the car.

He shoved the envelope into my chest. I grabbed it before it fell.

"We aren't done," he growled.

He turned and ran to his car, choosing the damsel in distress over the woman he was actively destroying.

I watched his taillights fade into the dark.

I looked down at the envelope. It was my ticket out of hell.

He thought we weren't done.

He was wrong. I was already gone.

Eliana Carter POV

The next morning, the sky was a bruised shade of purple, heavy and low.

I sat on my porch steps, three boxes stacked beside me. That was it. My entire existence condensed into cardboard.

Jax pulled up.

He wasn't driving his sports car this time; he was in the black SUV-the one he used for "business." The one that smelled like leather and bad intentions.

He got out, looking rough. His hair was messy, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He hadn't slept.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, marching up the walkway with a storm in his eyes.

"The airport," I said, keeping my voice steady. "My flight is in three hours."

"You're not getting on a plane."

"Watch me."

He closed the distance and grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, possessive.

"I checked the registrar at UCLA. You aren't enrolled. You really did this? You really torched our future for a little drama?"

"I removed myself from your future, Jax. There's a difference."

I yanked my arm back, breaking his hold.

"And by the way, you're no longer my emergency contact. I scrubbed you from my medical files this morning."

The words hit him like a physical blow. He flinched.

In our world, in the Life, being the emergency contact wasn't just paperwork. It was a blood oath almost as binding as marriage. It meant you held the power of life and death over the other person.

"You ungrateful brat," he hissed, stepping closer.

Before he could escalate, tires screeched against the pavement.

Catalina's car skidded to a halt behind his SUV. She jumped out, looking perfectly put together, clutching a coffee cup like a shield.

"Jax!" she screamed, her voice pitched high with panic. "My dad called. The rival crew... the ones who followed me? They're near the park."

It was a lie. A calculated performance. I could see the fabrication glinting in her eyes. She needed to snap his focus back to her, and fear was the quickest leash.

Jax hesitated. The instinct to protect, ingrained in him since birth, warred with his rage at me.

He looked at me, then at her.

"Go," I said, my voice hollow. "Go save her. It's what you do."

Jax pointed a finger at me, his jaw tight.

"If you leave," he warned, "don't think you can come crawling back when the real world chews you up."

"I won't."

He stared at me for one last second, then turned and got into his car with Catalina. He chose the distraction. He chose her. Again.

I waited until their taillights disappeared. Then, I loaded my car.

But I had one last stop.

The Old Oak.

It stood on the jagged edge of the Outfit's territory, a massive, ancient sentinel where generations of made men and their wives had carved their initials. It was sacred ground.

I drove there, my heart pounding a slow, painful rhythm.

I grabbed my keys and walked up to the trunk. There, weathered by time and elements, was the carving:

J.L. + E.C.

We had carved it when we were twelve. A blood oath of sorts. A promise that now felt like a curse.

I took my car key. I didn't just scratch the bark; I attacked it. I gouged the metal deep into the wood, scraping away the 'E.C.' until only raw, weeping pulp remained.

"That's vandalism," a voice said.

I spun around.

Jax and Catalina had followed me. Of course they had. He couldn't let me go without making sure I was really gone.

Catalina was smirking, leaning against the hood of the SUV. "Look, Jax. She's erasing herself. Saves us the trouble."

She sashayed up to the tree, inspecting my work. "You should carve my initials there, baby. Right over her mess."

Jax stood back, watching me with cold, dead eyes. "You're desecrating history, Eliana."

"It's not history," I spat, dropping my hand. "It's graffiti."

I dropped my keys. My hands were shaking so hard I couldn't hold them.

Catalina stepped closer to me, invading my space.

"You look pathetic," she whispered. "The fallen princess."

Then, she shoved me.

I wasn't expecting it. I stumbled back, my bad knee buckling under the sudden weight.

Behind me was the estate pond-fed by the same dark, stagnant water system that filled the pool at the Riley's.

I fell backward.

The water rushed over me for the second time in a week. But this part of the pond was deeper, muddy, and choked with reeds.

My heavy boots sank into the silt, anchoring me down. I struggled, thrashing, my knee screaming in agony.

I breached the surface, gasping for air, wiping thick mud from my eyes.

Jax was standing on the bank.

He was close enough to reach out a hand. Close enough to pull me up.

He looked at me struggling in the muck.

Then he looked at Catalina, who was laughing-a cruel, tinkling sound.

Jax put his hands in his pockets.

"Die if you want," he said softly, his voice carrying effortlessly over the water. "You aren't my problem anymore."

He turned around. He draped his arm around Catalina's shoulders and walked back to his car.

I watched them leave.

I was alone in the freezing mud.

I stopped thrashing. I found my footing in the sludge. I dug my fingers into the muddy bank and hauled myself out, inch by painful inch.

I lay on the grass, shivering, covered in slime and decay.

The love I had for him didn't die in that moment. Love is a stubborn thing; it doesn't die that quickly.

But hope did.

And in its place, something colder, harder, and infinitely more useful began to grow.

I stood up.

I didn't look back at the tree.

I walked to my car, leaving a trail of muddy footprints that looked like black blood.

I was going to New York.

And I was never coming back.