“Because we’re not safe at the clubhouse,” Jackson replied, his voice low as he struck a match. The small flame flickered, then caught, igniting the dry tinder. “Not with the war that’s brewing. Not with the price on my head. We’re safer out here, where the world can’t easily find us.” He added more wood, the flames leaping higher, casting dancing shadows on his face.
The primal instinct he’d taught me—to listen to the forest, to become one with it—was all I had now. The woods, once a place of fear and mystery, were slowly becoming my sanctuary, a silent testament to his lessons.
I watched him; the firelight glinting off the scars that crisscrossed his arms, each one a story I was still learning to read. He was a paradox—a man forged in violence, yet capable of such tenderness. My past had been a storm of betrayals and pain, but he, he was my anchor, my defiant act of survival. “But what about the others, Jackson? What about your friends?” My voice was a whisper, barely audible above the crackling fire.
I knew he wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t sugarcoat it. He never did. He finally looked at me, his blue eyes, usually so hard and fierce, softened by the firelight. “Everyone has their battles, Karlyn. Some fight with bullets, some with words. We’ll fight ours. But you”—he reached out, his calloused thumb tracing the line of myjaw, a gesture that sent a familiar tremor through me—“you just need to survive. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you do.”
Jackson paused, his eyes reflecting the flickering light. “They know how to take care of themselves,” he finally said, a note of reassurance in his voice. “But right now, keeping you safe is all that matters to me. The others will lie low, just like we are.” He reached over, squeezing my hand gently, the gesture grounding me amidst the uncertainty.
The night settled around us, the sounds of distant wildlife a reminder that, for now, we were hidden from the chaos closing in. I let myself lean into the warmth of the fire and the steady presence at my side, hope battling fear as we faced the unknown together.
Nestled between his legs, with his arms wrapped tightly around me, I watched the fire dance as the forest came alive. I never imagined my life would turn out this way. Long before my world was turned upside down, I was nothing more than a silly, naïve girl. I knew nothing about the dangers of this world. Oh, I knew there were bad things that happened, but I believed that my momma and daddy would protect me. I never thought that they would be the reason, the cause of the woman I was today. I thought it odd that I never thought about them. Never wondered what happened to them. I didn’t even know if they were still alive, and when I really thought about it; I knew I didn’t care.
Likeher, they were a reminder of everything horrible and nasty in this world.
“Jackson?”
“Hmm.”
“Am I a bad person?”
Jackson chuckled, tightening his hold. “Baby, you are one of the sweetest, gentlest people I know. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why are you asking this?”
“Because I’m not,” I whispered. “Not really.”
“What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Taking a deep breath, I muttered, “I tried to killher.”
“Kill who, baby?”
“Her. Before she was born. I tried to killher.”
Sighing, Jackson held me close. “Ah.”
Turning to look at him, I asked, “Does that make me a bad person?”
Cupping my face, Jackson relaxed his expression, sympathy and understanding shining in his eyes. “No, Karlyn. That doesn’t make you a bad person. She’s a reminder. A living, breathing reminder of what you survived. It’s perfectly normal for you to feel the way you do.”
“I can’t even look ather. I hateher. I think Karl is disappointed in me.”
“Ink can go fuck himself. He didn’t have to live through what you did.”
“I think Daphne understands. She tries to keepheraway from me.”
“Daphne is a gentle soul, like yourself. She feels more than most.” Jackson gently smiled. “Whether you love or hate Wrenly, know that your brother and Daphne love and adore her. They’ve adopted her. Wrenly never need know how she came into this world, Karlyn. As for how you feel about her, you have every right to feel the way you do. Only you know what you survived, endured, suffered. Screw everyone who tells you to feel differently.”
“I just... I just can’t get past it, Jackson,” I whispered, my words catching in my throat, thick with unshed tears. “The thought ofherexisting. Ofherbreathing the same air I do. It’s like a constant reminder of everything.” I buried my face in his chest, the rough leather of his jacket a familiar comfort. “I don’twantherhere. I don’t want to seeher. And I think... I think Karl hates me for it.”
Jackson’s arms tightened around me, a silent acknowledgment of my pain. He didn’t offer platitudes, didn’t try to force me to feel differently. He just held me, his steady presence a much-needed anchor. “Ink doesn’t hate you, Karlyn,” Jackson murmured, his voice a low rumble against my hair. “He loves you. And he understands. He knows what you went through. And he knows that sometimes, surviving means cutting ties with things that poison you. Wrenly... she’s a consequence of that poison. It doesn’t make you a bad person for wanting to distance yourself from it.”
“Butshe’sinnocent,” I choked out, my words brittle and painful. “Shedidn’t do anything.”
“She’s a living, breathing reminder,” Jackson countered, his voice firm. “And you have every right to protect yourself from that reminder. Your feelings are valid, Karlyn. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. What happened to you... it was monstrous. And you survived it. That makes you strong, not bad.” He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes, usually so hard, now filled with a tender understanding. “And we’ll figure out how to keep her away from you. We’ll make sure you don’t have to see her. You focus on healing. That’s all that matters right now.”
Jackson brushed a stray tear from my cheek, his hands warm and steady. “Wrenly is like you in a lot of ways—she is innocent. And like you, none of this is her fault. But trauma leaves scars that don’t always make sense to anyone else. It’s okay to grieve, to feel conflicted. You don’t have to force forgiveness or force yourself to care before you’re ready. Give yourself time.” He kissed the crown of my head, silent and gentle, letting me sob quietly, his arms never wavering. In that moment, I let myself cry, finally allowing the grief and guilt and anger to spill outbetween us, safe in the certainty that Jackson wouldn’t let me drown.
Gradually, my sobs faded, leaving me hollow but somehow lighter. The weight pressing on my chest loosened, just a fraction, as Jackson continued to hold me in the quiet darkness. I drew a shaky breath, wiping at my cheeks, and felt the smallest spark of hope flicker somewhere deep inside. Maybe with time and with people like Jackson by my side, I could heal the wounds I kept hidden so well. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t completely alone with my pain.
