The question sliced through the stagnant air of the study like a jagged blade. I froze, my fingers still brushed against the underside of the heavy mahogany desk. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird seeking escape. A cold sweat broke out along my hairline, trickling down my neck like a frozen finger.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jaxson," I whispered.

The lie felt like dry ash in my mouth. I slowly stood up, smoothing the wrinkles in my silk skirt with palms that were slick and trembling. The room was suffocating, draped in shadows and the heavy scent of old books and Jaxson’s expensive, woodsy cologne.

"Don't play the victim," he growled.

He stepped out of the darkness, the dim light catching the sharp angle of his jaw and the silver scar slicing through his eyebrow. He looked predatory. Every muscle in his body was coiled tension. My pulse throbbed in my ears, a rhythmic drumbeat of pure, unadulterated fear.

"I'm a mother trying to protect her son," I snapped.

The defiance flared in my gut, a small, hot flame in the middle of a blizzard. I forced myself to meet his obsidian gaze, even as my knees threatened to buckle. The electricity between us was a physical weight, a sparking current that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end.

"You're a spy who used a child as a shield," Jaxson countered.

He moved closer, his presence expanding until he filled my entire field of vision. The heat radiating off him was a scorching contrast to the chill in my bones. I could see the slight flare of his nostrils, the rhythmic heave of his broad chest.

"He is your son!" I yelled, the words tearing from my throat.

The silence that followed was absolute, heavy enough to crush the lungs. Jaxson didn't blink. His eyes remained locked on mine, dark pools of unreadable emotion. My stomach twisted into a painful knot, a hollow ache spreading through my abdomen.

"Is he?" Jaxson’s voice was a low, dangerous vibration.

"Look at him," I breathed, my voice trembling with a mix of fury and desperation. "Look at his eyes. Look at the way he sets his jaw when he's angry. You know the truth."

"I know what you want me to believe," he said.

He reached out, his large, calloused hand suddenly gripping my chin. His touch was electric, a jolt of fire that raced through my nervous system. I gasped, my breath hitching in a throat that felt like it was closing up.

"I want my son to be safe," I choked out. "Thorne is dangerous. He'll use Leo to destroy you."

"Thorne is a cockroach," Jaxson spat, his thumb brushing over my lower lip with a rough, distracting pressure. "But you... you're the one who brought the war to my doorstep."

"I had no choice!"

"There is always a choice, Little Thief."

He let go of my face as if I had burned him. He turned away, pacing the length of the room like a caged panther. I watched the play of muscles beneath his black shirt, the way his tattoos shifted with every movement. My body felt hyper-sensitive, every nerve ending screaming with the aftershocks of his touch.

"Where is he?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Sleeping. In a room more secure than any vault in this city."

"I need to see him."

"You need to stay where I can watch you," Jaxson said, turning back to face me. "You're a guest in this house, Elena. Nothing more. If I find one more bug, one more transmitter... I won't be so gentle."

"Gentle?" I let out a jagged, bitter laugh. "You dragged us here like prisoners."

"I saved you from a man who would have discarded you the moment the merger was signed."

"And what will you do with us?"

I stepped toward him, closing the gap until I could smell the faint tang of bourbon on his breath. My heart was a frantic mess, thudding against my chest with such violence I was sure he could see it. I reached out, my fingers grazing the leather of his vest.

"I haven't decided yet," he whispered.

The air between us was thick, charged with five years of resentment, betrayal, and a hunger that made my blood boil. I could see the pulse jumping in his neck. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and for a second, the world narrowed down to the space between our lips.

"Kill me if you want," I said, my voice dropping to a smoky, defiant edge. "But give Leo his inheritance. Give him the life he deserves."

Jaxson’s eyes snapped back to mine, a flicker of something—pain? regret?—crossing his features before the mask of stone returned. He grabbed my wrists, his grip firm but not painful, pinning them against his chest.

"You think you can manipulate me with him?"

"I think you're terrified of how much you already love him," I countered.

The shock was visible. His pupils dilated, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second. I felt a surge of triumph, a sharp, cold spike of adrenaline. I had hit the mark. The powerful Jaxson Vane had a weakness, and it was the boy sleeping down the hall.

"Get out," he hissed.

"Make me."

We stood there, locked in a silent war of wills. The only sound was the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner and the ragged sound of our breathing. My skin felt like it was on fire where he touched me. The silence stretched, vibrating with a tension that felt like it would shatter the windows.

"Go to your room, Elena," he said, his voice dropping to a low, guttural warning. "Before I forget that you're the mother of my son and remember exactly what you stole from me."

I didn't argue. I couldn't. The intensity in his eyes was too much, a dark fire that threatened to consume my resolve. I pulled my hands free, my skin tingling as the contact broke. I turned and walked out of the study, my heels clicking sharply against the cold marble floor.

The hallway was a labyrinth of shadows and expensive art. This wasn't a home; it was a fortress. Every corner held a security camera, every door was reinforced steel. My skin crawled with the sensation of being watched.

I needed to find Leo. I needed to know where they were keeping him.

I moved quietly, my boots making no sound on the thick runners. I passed room after room—guest suites, offices, a library that smelled of mahogany and silence. My heart felt heavy, a lead weight in my chest. I felt like a ghost haunting my own life.

I reached the end of the north wing. A single door stood ajar, a soft, warm light spilling out onto the floor.

I paused, my breath catching. The air in this part of the house felt different—softer, smelling faintly of lavender and vanilla. I pushed the door open, my heart skipping a beat.

I expected a cold, clinical bedroom.

Instead, I stepped into a nursery.

It was perfect. The walls were painted a soft, calming blue. A hand-carved wooden bed shaped like a pirate ship sat in the corner, covered in plush blankets. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with books, puzzles, and every toy a five-year-old could dream of.

There were action figures, remote-controlled cars, and a massive set of building blocks. A telescope stood by the window, pointed toward the stars.

It wasn't new. The toys weren't in boxes. They were arranged with care, some of them looking slightly worn, as if they had been handled many times.

My knees hit the thick carpet. I felt a sob rise in my throat, hot and suffocating. I reached out, my hand trembling as I picked up a small stuffed lion sitting on the nightstand.

It was identical to the one Leo had lost three years ago.

"He's been waiting," I whispered to the empty room.

My mind spun. Jaxson had acted as if our appearance was a shock, a betrayal. But this room told a different story. This was a room built with love and a terrifying, obsessive foresight.

He hadn't just found out about Leo. He had been watching us. For years.

Every birthday, every milestone, every time we had struggled to pay the rent—he had known. He had let us suffer while he built this shrine to a son he had never claimed.

The realization hit me like a physical blow, leaving me gasping for air. The betrayal was deeper than I could have imagined. I felt a wave of cold fury wash over me, a bone-deep anger that made my hands shake.

"You like it?"

I spun around, the stuffed lion clutched to my chest.

Jaxson was leaning against the doorframe. He had discarded his vest, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes deeper in the soft light of the nursery.

"How long?" I demanded, my voice a jagged edge of a thing.

"Long enough," he said.

"You watched us? You watched us starve while you built this?" I stood up, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

"I watched you hide him from me," Jaxson countered, stepping into the room. "I watched you move from one hovel to the next, playing your little spy games, while my son slept on a floor."

"You could have taken him at any time!"

"And have you run again? Have you disappear into the shadows where I could never find you?" He stopped in the center of the room, looking at the pirate ship bed. "I needed you to come to me. I needed the choice to be yours."

"It wasn't a choice! You trapped me!"

"I gave you an exit," he said, his voice turning ice-cold. "Thorne was just the catalyst. I knew you'd take the money. I knew your greed would bring you home."

"Greed?" I took a step toward him, my hand flying out to slap him again, but he caught my wrist mid-air.

The contact was a violent spark. We stood in the middle of the nursery, the air thick with the scent of a childhood he had stolen and a future I was terrified of.

"You don't get to judge me," I hissed.

"I'm the only one who can," he replied.

He pulled me closer, his eyes searching mine with a desperation that matched my own. For a heartbeat, the anger vanished, replaced by a raw, bleeding vulnerability. He looked at me not as an enemy, but as the only woman who had ever truly broken him.

"Why, Jaxson?" I whispered.

"Because he's mine," he breathed, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. "And so are you."

The claim sent a shiver through my entire body. I wanted to fight him, to scream, to run. But my heart was beating in sync with his, a rhythmic, undeniable truth.

Then, the silence was shattered by a sharp, electronic beep from Jaxson’s pocket.

He pulled out a small black device. His face went ashen as he read the screen.

"What is it?" I asked, the fear returning in a cold rush.

Jaxson looked at me, his eyes wide with a terror I had never seen before. He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising.

"The drive you found in Leo's pocket," he said, his voice tight. "Did you activate it?"

"No, I... I just held onto it."

"Elena," he said, his voice trembling. "That wasn't a hard drive. It was a beacon."

Before I could ask what he meant, the floor beneath us groaned. A heavy, metallic thud echoed from the hallway, followed by the sound of glass shattering downstairs.

Jaxson shoved me toward the bed, shielding me with his body as the lights in the mansion flickered and died, plunging the nursery into a terrifying, suffocating darkness.

"Stay down," he commanded.

In the silence, I heard the sound of heavy boots on the stairs—and a voice that made my blood turn to ice.

"Come out, Jaxson," Thorne's voice boomed through the speakers of the nursery's baby monitor. "I've come to collect my investment."

I reached out in the dark, my fingers finding Jaxson's hand. He gripped it back, his palm hot and steady.

"He's not after the company, is he?" I whispered.

"No," Jaxson replied, his voice a grim promise. "He's after the only thing I can't replace."

A red dot appeared on the nursery door, dancing across the wood until it settled directly over the lock.

"Elena," Jaxson whispered, leaning close to my ear. "If we don't make it out of this room, tell Leo... tell him he was always the king of this castle."

The door exploded inward.

"I didn't think you had the stomach to wander into a lion's den alone, little thief."

The voice was a serrated blade scraping against my spine. I froze, my fingers hovering a mere inch over the glowing console of the private server. My heart slammed against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird desperate for air. A cold sweat broke out across my brow, a slick sheen that made the shadows of Jaxson’s inner sanctum feel even heavier.

"I'm just looking for the bathroom, Silas," I whispered.

I forced myself to turn slowly. Silas, Jaxson’s Enforcer, stood in the doorway—a mountain of scarred leather and cold intent. The air in the room was thick, tasting of ozone and the metallic tang of high-end hardware. My palms were damp, the silk of my dress clinging to my skin as if trying to restrain me.

"The bathroom is two hallways back," Silas growled.

He stepped into the room, his heavy boots thudding against the polished floor. Each step echoed in the silence, a rhythmic countdown to my ruin. My stomach twisted into a sharp, acidic knot. Silas was close enough now that I could smell the stale tobacco and grease on his jacket. He lunged, and I ducked, my heart leaping into my throat. The wind from his movement whistled past my ear. I scrambled back, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps. I felt like a cornered animal, my pulse thrumming in my neck with a violent, visible rhythm.

"Stay still," Silas hissed. He grabbed my arm, his fingers like iron bands. I cried out as a white-hot flash of pain radiated from my wrist to my shoulder. My vision swam, dark spots dancing in the dim light of the server racks.

"Let go of her, Silas."

The voice didn't come from the door. It came from the shadows behind the desk.

Jaxson stepped into the light. He looked like a storm given human form. His eyes were obsidian fire, burning with a cold, terrifying intensity. The silver scar on his eyebrow was a jagged line of defiance against his tanned skin. The air in the room shifted instantly, the pressure rising until I felt the weight of his presence like a physical blow.

"Boss," Silas said, his grip loosening. "She was at the console. She's a rat."

"I know what she is," Jaxson said. He moved with the grace of a panther, silent and absolute. He didn't look at Silas; he looked at me. The weight of his gaze pinned me in place more effectively than any hand. I felt a wave of heat wash over me, a flush that had nothing to do with fear.

"Get out," Jaxson commanded.

"But Boss—"

"Out."

Silas backed away, his heavy boots fading into the distance. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the hum of the servers and the frantic, uneven rhythm of my own breathing. Jaxson walked toward me. Each step felt like a hammer blow to my resolve. I backed up until the edge of the mahogany desk bit into the small of my back. My heart was a drum, filling the cavern of my chest.

"Are you looking for the files, or are you looking for me?" he asked.

His voice was a low, gravelly vibration that settled deep in my bones. He placed his hands on the desk on either side of my hips, trapping me. The heat radiating from his chest was overwhelming, a wall of fire that made my skin prickle.

"I was just—"

"Don't lie to me again, Elena," he whispered. He leaned in, his face inches from mine. I could see the fine lines of fatigue around his eyes, the slight stubble on his jaw. The scent of him—bourbon, cold air, and that dangerous spice—hit me like a narcotic. My head spun, a dizzying mix of terror and a hunger so sharp it felt like a knife wound.

"I need to know what's on those servers, Jaxson," I breathed.

"You need to know if I'm the man you think I am," he countered. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a touch that was almost tender, yet agonizingly firm. My skin buzzed where he touched me, a trail of electricity igniting every nerve ending.

"I know exactly who you are," I said, a desperate edge of defiance in my voice. "You're a man who keeps secrets. A man who lets his son grow up in shadows."

Jaxson’s eyes darkened. His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping with a rhythmic, controlled anger. I felt the pressure of his body against mine, the hard line of his chest pressing against me. My heart was a frantic, bruised thing.

"And you're the woman who thinks she can walk into my life, steal my secrets, and leave without paying the price," he growled.

"I've paid the price for five years, Jaxson!" The outburst was a raw, jagged thing. My throat felt like it was closing, my eyes stinging. I felt the weight of every night spent wondering if he was looking for me.

"You think I didn't pay?" he hissed. He grabbed my waist, his large, calloused hands squeezing until I gasped. The air left my lungs in a rush. I looked up at him, and for a second, the mask of the CEO cracked. I saw the hollow, aching loss in his eyes.

"You had everything," I whispered.

"I had nothing," he replied. "Until you came back."

The silence between us was a living thing. I could hear the rhythmic ticking of the clock, the sound of the wind howling outside. My heart was beating in sync with his now, a heavy, desperate tempo.

"Jaxson..."

"Shut up, Elena."

He crashed his mouth against mine. It wasn't a kiss of love; it was a kiss of rage, of five years of silence, and of a betrayal that had never healed. It tasted of fire and desperation. My head snapped back against the desk, a sharp jolt of pain drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of him. I didn't push him away. My hands flew to his shoulders, my fingers digging into his leather vest. I was drowning in him, and for the first time, I didn't want to swim to the surface.

Every nerve ending was screaming. The scratch of his stubble, the pressure of his tongue—it was a sensory overload. I felt the small, cold weight of the wire-tap hidden in my necklace. It was transmitting every gasp, every ragged breath, directly to Thorne. The realization hit me like ice water, but the hunger in Jaxson’s kiss was a wildfire.

He pulled back just an inch, his eyes wild. "Tell me you don't feel it," he commanded. "Tell me you don't want to burn with me."

"I hate you," I whispered, the words a lie that broke in my throat.

"I know," he said, a dark, triumphant growl. He moved his mouth to my neck, his teeth grazing the pulse point. I let out a low, broken sound. I felt a sudden vibration in the small of my back. My burner phone. A message from Thorne: I hear everything, Elena. Now, get the codes.

I looked up at Jaxson, my vision blurred. He was looking at me with a sudden, sharp suspicion.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice returning to a predatory edge.

"Nothing," I lied.

He pulled away, the loss of his heat a physical blow. He watched me with a gaze that felt like it was stripping away my skin. "You're a terrible liar, Elena," he said. He pulled out a small device—a frequency jammer. It flared to life with a jagged, rhythmic line pulsing with every sound. "It just picked up a transmission from your necklace. Who's on the other end, Elena? Who are you selling me to this time?"

I couldn't speak. I backed away, trapped against the desk. Then, the baby monitor crackled to life.

"Mama?" Leo’s voice was small, filled with terror. "Mama, there's someone in my room!" The sound of a door being kicked open echoed, followed by a muffled shout and a struggle.

Jaxson didn't hesitate. He grabbed the brass lamp and smashed the server console, a shower of sparks illuminating the room in flickering blue.

"Leo!" I screamed.

Jaxson grabbed my arm, his grip so tight it would leave a bruise. "The transmission," he hissed. "They used it to bypass the security grid." He shoved a silver key into my hand. "Go to the basement. There's a tunnel. Don't stop until you reach the river."

"What about you? What about Leo?"

Jaxson reached for the combat knife in his boot. "I'm going to finish what you started."

As he turned to run, my phone buzzed one last time: Thanks for the access, Elena. The boy is with us now. If you want him back, bring me Jaxson’s head.

"You're running out of time, Elena, and my patience isn't a renewable resource."

"I’m doing what I can," I whispered, my voice a ragged friction. "He’s suspicious. He’s always watching."

"He's watching you because he wants you," Thorne snapped. "Use that. Or do I need to remind you who is currently holding the keys to your son’s future?"

My heart slammed against my ribs, a frantic, bruised bird. I felt a sharp, acidic burn in my stomach, a knot of pure terror twisting tighter with every word. My lungs felt constricted, as if the very oxygen in the room had been replaced by lead.

"Don't touch him," I hissed. "You promised he would stay safe as long as I played my part."

"Promises are for people with leverage. You have none. If Jaxson Vane isn't incapacitated by the end of the Biker Gala tomorrow night, Leo won't be coming home to you."

The line went dead with a sharp, final click. I leaned against the stone railing, my head spinning. The world felt like it was tilting on its axis. I could hear the rhythmic thud of my own pulse in my ears, a heavy, suffocating drumbeat. I looked down at the small vial Thorne’s courier had left for me. The liquid inside was clear, odorless, and lethal—a poison that would shatter Jaxson’s nervous system, leaving him a hollow shell. A prisoner in his own body.

"Mama? Why are you out here in the dark?"

I jumped, the vial slipping into the hidden fold of my silk robe just as Leo stepped onto the balcony. He was rubbing his eyes, his dark hair a messy tangle that made my chest ache with a sudden, sharp pang of love and guilt.

"Just getting some air, baby," I said, my voice trembling as I reached out to smooth his hair.

My fingers were cold, but his skin was warm, a vibrant reminder of everything I stood to lose. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, a sickness that started in my gut and worked its way up to my parched throat.

"The big man says it's late," Leo said, looking back toward the open French doors.

Jaxson was standing there—a shadow against the warm light of the hallway, a massive, silent presence that seemed to draw all the energy from the room. He was wearing a dark leather vest over a white t-shirt, the ink of his tattoos visible in the dim light. The silver scar on his eyebrow caught the moonlight, a jagged line of defiance.

"Go back to bed, Leo," Jaxson said.

His voice was a low, gravelly vibration that settled in the very marrow of my bones. Leo nodded, giving me a quick hug before scampering back inside. Jaxson stepped onto the balcony. The scent of him—bourbon, cold air, and that dangerous spice—hit me like a physical blow. I felt my skin prickle, a sudden, electric heat radiating between us.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"No one," I lied.

The word felt like a stone in my mouth. I kept my hands buried in my pockets, my fingers curled around the vial of poison. My heart was thudding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I felt exposed, as if his obsidian eyes could see right through my silk robe and into the dark, rotting secret I was carrying.

"You're a terrible liar, Little Thief," he whispered.

He moved closer, pinning me against the railing. The stone was cold against my back, but he was a wall of fire. I could feel the rhythmic heave of his chest, the intensity of his gaze boring into mine.

"I have nothing to say to you, Jaxson."

"Then let your body speak for you."

He reached out, his large, calloused hand wrapping around my waist. The touch was electric, a jolt of fire that ignited every nerve ending. I gasped, my breath hitching in a throat that felt like it was closing up.

"Don't," I breathed, even as I leaned into him.

"You're trembling," he noted, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin of my hip. "Is it fear, Elena? Or are you finally remembering what it feels like to be wanted by a man who doesn't play games?"

"You're the one playing games," I snapped, the defiance flaring in my gut like a wildfire. "You kept me in the dark for five years. You watched us struggle."

"I watched you survive," he countered, his voice dropping to a dangerous frequency. "And I waited until you had nowhere else to run. Because I knew the moment you saw me again, you'd realize the truth."

"And what truth is that?"

"That you belong to me. And I belong to you."

The claim sent a shiver through my entire body. I wanted to scream, to push him away, to tell him about the poison in my pocket. But my heart was beating in sync with his now, a heavy, desperate tempo. He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. It wasn't a kiss; it was a question. It tasted of salt and longing. My head spun, a dizzying mix of terror and a hunger so sharp it felt like a knife wound.

"Jaxson..."

"Tell me to stop," he whispered. "Tell me you don't want me to protect you. Tell me you want to go back to Thorne."

The mention of the rival’s name was like ice water. I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the vial. I realized then that Jaxson was the only one who could actually keep Leo safe. Thorne was a snake, but Jaxson was a lion. And a lion would die for his pride.

"I don't want to go back," I confessed, the words a ragged edge of truth.

"Then stay. Tomorrow night, at the Gala, we end this. Thorne thinks he’s walking into a trap for me, but he’s walking into his own funeral."

Jaxson pulled back, his eyes searching mine with a sudden, sharp vulnerability. For a heartbeat, the Phantom CEO was gone, replaced by a man who looked like he had been starving for a lifetime. He turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the cold moonlight. I looked down at the vial in my hand and felt a wave of pure, unadulterated self-loathing.

The next day was a blur of preparation and mounting dread. As the sun began to set, the stylist Jaxson had hired arrived. She dressed me in a gown of midnight blue silk, the fabric flowing over my curves like water. It was a dress meant for a queen, or a martyr. I tucked the vial into the hidden pocket of my clutch, my hands shaking so violently I had to grip the edge of the vanity.

I met Jaxson in the foyer. He was wearing a black suit that made him look even more imposing. He looked like a king ready for war. We arrived at the Gala, a sprawling event held in a converted warehouse. The air was filled with the roar of engines and the sound of heavy rock music.

I saw Thorne almost immediately. He caught my eye and tapped his watch. The countdown had begun.

Jaxson led me to a private table. "I need to use the powder room," I said, my voice a dry whisper.

I walked toward the bar, my heart hammering in my throat. I waited until the bartender was distracted before I slipped the vial from my clutch. My fingers were numb, the world around me blurring. I reached for Jaxson’s glass, which he had left on the edge of the table.

"Elena."

I froze. Thorne was standing behind me, his voice a cold venom. "Do it now. Or I send the signal to the men at the mansion. Leo is currently having a snack in the kitchen. It would be a shame if it were his last."

I looked at the amber liquid, then at the man who had given me everything I never knew I wanted. I couldn't do it. I dropped the vial into my own drink instead. I turned to Thorne, my eyes burning with defiance. "Tell your men to stand down. I've done it."

Thorne smirked and walked away. I returned to the table and sat down. I watched Jaxson pick up his glass and take a sip. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Jaxson didn't collapse. He looked stronger than ever.

I realized then that he had switched the glasses. He had known all along.

I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my own chest, a cold numbness spreading through my limbs. My vision began to blur.

"Jaxson..." I breathed.

He caught me before I could hit the floor. He pulled me into his lap, his face a mask of agony. "I had to know, Elena," he whispered. "I had to know if you would choose him over me."

"I chose... our son," I choked out, the darkness closing in.

"He's safe. My men took out Thorne's team five minutes ago."

I felt a wave of relief, followed by a terrifying, hollow silence. The darkness swallowed me whole.

I woke up hours later in the nursery. Jaxson was sitting in a chair by the bed, his head in his hands. Leo ran into the room, throwing his arms around my neck. "Mama! You're awake!"

Leo pulled back, looking from me to Jaxson with a wide, innocent smile. "Mama," Leo said. "Daddy told me we’re never leaving again."

I froze. My heart stopped. I looked at Jaxson. He didn't deny it. He just sat there, his obsidian eyes fixed on mine. Leo had never called him "Daddy" before.

"What did you tell him, Jaxson?" I whispered.

Jaxson stood up and walked to the bed. He leaned down, his lips brushing my forehead. "I told him the truth, Elena," he breathed. "And now, it's time you told it to me."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, blood-stained locket. It was the one my mother had given me—the one I had lost the night I first met him.

"I’ve had it for five years," he said. "Along with the recording of what you said before you left." He tapped a button on his watch, and a voice filled the room—my voice, but younger.

“I love him. And that’s why I have to destroy him.”

I stared at him, the silence in the nursery turning into a suffocating shroud. "Now," Jaxson said, his hand closing over mine. "Tell me why you lied."

Before I could answer, a heavy thud echoed from the hallway, followed by a woman screaming.

"Elena! Help me!"

It was my sister. The sister Thorne told me had died years ago.