A metallic click pierces my consciousness. The cell door.
I try to open my eyes fully, but my lids feel weighted. The fluorescent light above burns into my retinas through the sliver I manage. My heart races while my body refuses to respond.
Footsteps. Confident, measured steps approaching our cots.
I strain to turn my head, the simple movement requiring monumental effort. My neck muscles barely respond, allowing just enough rotation to see the outline of a man standing over Olivia’s cot.
Jax.
His broad shoulders and imposing stance are unmistakable even in my compromised state. Why can’t I move? The panic rises in my chest like floodwater, but my limbs remain unresponsive.
“Miss Harrison,” Jax’s voice is smooth, controlled. “I hope you found the accommodations acceptable.”
To my horror, Olivia sits up with ease. Her movements are normal, fluid. She wasn’t affected. Did she not eat the soup? Or was mine specifically targeted?
“As acceptable as a prison cell can be,” Liv responds.
I try desperately to call out, to warn her, to do anything. My mouth won’t form words—just a slight moan escapes my throat. Neither of them notices.
My sister stands now, facing Jax directly. She doesn’t appear drugged at all.
I fight against whatever is paralyzing me, willing my fingers to twitch, my legs to move. Nothing responds. I’m trapped inside my own body, forced to watch as Jax moves closer to Olivia.
The helplessness is suffocating. My sister is standing there, vulnerable, while I lie here useless. What did they put in my food? Why am I the only one affected?
Jax closes the distance between himself and Liv in two long strides. Before she can back away, his hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck.
“You have your father’s pride,” he says, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “But in a much prettier packaging.”
I try to scream, but my throat produces only a pathetic whimper. The drug pulses through my system, leaving me conscious but useless.
Jax’s fingers tighten on her neck, not enough to choke but enough to control. His thumb traces small circles on her skin. The gesture looks almost tender, making it more revolting.
“Let go of me,” Liv demands.
Jax leans closer, his face inches from hers. His gaze roams over her features, lingering on her lips, then her throat, then lower. Not like he’s admiring her, but like he’s cataloging parts of a meal.
“I wonder what Reed sees in your sister that he doesn’t see in you,” Jax murmurs, his eyes flicking briefly toward my paralyzed form before returning to Liv.
I struggle against the chemical prison of my body as Jax’s grip on my sister’s neck tightens.
“Such a waste,” he breathes, his free hand rising to hover near her face. “Hunter had you all wrapped up like a present he never intended to unwrap.”
Liv tries to pull away, but his grip holds her firmly. “Don’t touch me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a cruel smile. “Your sister seems to enjoy being touched.” His eyes flick toward me. “Don’t you, Aurora?”
My fingers twitch—the most movement I can manage. A small victory lost in the horror unfolding before me.
“I bet you’re responsive,” Jax continues, his attention back on Liv. His hand moves to her collarbone, fingers tracing the exposed skin above her gown’s neckline. “I’ve been watching you since Hunter arranged your engagement. The way you move. The way you tilt your head when you laugh.”
His palm slides lower, cupping her breast through the fabric of her dress. Liv’s face freezes in shock, but he doesn’t release her.
“I could make you forget all about any other man,” he whispers. “Show you what it’s like to be with someone who knows exactly what this perfect body needs.”
I manage to push a ragged sound from my throat. Useless. Pathetic.
Jax’s thumb circles over the peak of Olivia’s breast as he leans closer. “I bet you get wet when a man takes control. When he tells you exactly what he’s going to do to that tight little?—”
