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The craving takes root, expanding rapidly in the dark. I want the structure. I want the certainty. I want the total belonging Jax offers, even wrapped in steel doors and violent control. I want the heavy burden of freedom lifted from my shoulders.

Jax watches the internal war wage across my face. His expression shifts. The predatory edge softens, replaced by a dark, understanding warmth.

“You do not have to decide this afternoon.” Jax’s voice wraps around me like velvet. “You do not have to accept the reality all at once. But you will accept it, Ari. Because deep in the marrow of your bones, you want this. You have always wanted this. You merely needed someone strong enough to take the choice away.”

He releases my neck. The sudden absence of his touch leaves a freezing, aching void on my skin. He takes a step back, putting distance between us.

“Get some rest,” Jax instructs. “Tomorrow, we continue your education. And every day, you will find it a fraction easier to accept what you are becoming. A little harder to remember why you even bother fighting.”

He turns and walks to the exit. The door glides open. He steps into the hallway, pulling the heavy steel shut.

The deadbolt clicks. The finality of the sound reverberates in my chest.

I sit in the deafening silence of the cell. The tremors return, shaking my hands, rattling my knees. The tears I fought so hard to suppress finally spill over, tracing hot paths down my cheeks.

Jax is absolutely right.

The fight drains out of me, siphoned away by his dark promises. The resistance wears thin, rubbed raw by my own neglected needs. The terrifying, world-ending truth settles into the quiet room. A rapidly growing part of me does not want to fight him anymore.

I think about Liv. I picture her serene expression as she knelt at his feet, completely devoted, fulfilled by the parameters of her subjugation. I wonder how many days remain until I mirror that exact serenity. How many hours until dropping to my knees feels entirely natural? How many meals until taking food from his palm feels like a privilege? How long until surrendering completely feels exactly like coming home?

I curl onto my side on the narrow cot. I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. I wrestle with the horrifying realization that the monster holding the keys might understand the desires I have been too ashamed to admit. The price is my freedom. The cost is my entire identity and my Viper badge.

Liv warned me. The cage is not built with steel. It is constructed in the mind.

The most terrifying revelation of all is knowing that I am handing Jax the tools to finish mine. Continuing to fight, continuing to pretend, returning to a life behind impenetrable walls and empty charm—it suddenly feels infinitely more unbearable than total surrender.

And that realization is the most damning thing of all.

13

LIV

The lamp on the side table casts a warm, golden pool of light across the yellowed pages of Wuthering Heights. Dust motes dance in the illuminated air. Evening shadows stretch their long fingers across the plush cream rug. My eyes scan the printed text, but the black letters blur into meaningless shapes. My mind remains anchored to the events of the morning. To the breakfast ritual. To Ari Carter kneeling on this very carpet at Jax’s polished shoes.

I replay the rigid tension in Ari’s shoulders. I remember the exact moment his defiance snapped under the weight of my empty stomach. He opened his mouth and accepted the pastry from Jax’s fingers, swallowing his dignity to ensure I received my meal.

I search my chest for a spike of horror. I hunt for the solidarity I ought to feel with a man who risked his life to get me out of captivity. Grayson told him to wait. Ari found the Montana cabin and came in alone because he could not bear to leave me there. The empathy does not exist. A vast, echoing relief takes its place. The crushing burden of isolation vanished the second Ari dropped to his knees.

A darker thrill hums beneath my ribs. Jax still prefers me. My absolute obedience earns soft touches and warm food. Ari’s resistance earns humiliation and pain. The contrast cements my position in this twisted hierarchy. I am the favorite. The realization of my own complicity should make me sick. It barely registers.

The heavy brass deadbolt clanks.

The metallic thud reverberates through the quiet suite. My pulse immediately spikes. Heat rushes to my cheeks. A heavy ache pools low in my belly. My body responds before my conscious mind processes the sound. A conditioned instrument tuning itself for the master. I set the vintage novel on the table. I push out of the velvet armchair and assume the required position. Heels together. Hands resting loose at my sides. Chin dipped. Shoulders relaxed.

The door swings inward.

Jax fills the threshold. He wears a dark button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to expose his thick, scarred forearms. He radiates an intoxicating, suffocating authority. He does not step inside alone. Two armed guards flank Ari. They march the operative into the center of the room.

Ari looks completely ravaged. The dark clothes he wore at our reunion are gone, replaced by a simple pair of gray sweatpants. His dark hair hangs in disarray over his forehead. The deep bruising under his green eyes speaks of profound exhaustion. The real shift lives in his posture. The combative stiffness has vanished. The rigid Viper stance has crumbled into a defeated slump. He does not scan the room for weapons. He does not glare at the guards. He stares at the carpet.

Jax waves a single hand. The guards turn on their heels and exit the suite. The heavy door seals shut. The locks engage with finality.

The air in the suite turns dense. Electric. My stomach flutters with tense anticipation. I know this energy. Jax gathers us together for a specific purpose.

“We are establishing a different dynamic tonight.” Jax stands between us, surveying his possessions with dark satisfaction. “You will learn how to exist together in my space. Under my control. You will learn that pleasure stems directly from obedience. Serving me provides the purpose you both spend your lives chasing.”

My breath catches. The implication sinks deep into my bones. My skin flushes with eager heat, conditioned to desire whatever he dictates. But a sharp, biting jealousy pierces my chest. I want to claw the space between them. I do not want to share him. I do not want Ari Carter’s hands touching my skin, and I refuse to watch Jax give his undivided attention to another captive. I demand to remain the sole focus of his dark obsession.