AURORA
I’ve lost track of time in this concrete hell.
The cell door slides open. I don’t even bother looking up anymore.
“Good morning, Aurora.” Jax’s voice carries that same smugness it always does. “I thought we might have a chat today. Just you and me.”
I stay curled on my cot, refusing to acknowledge him.
“I brought something I think you’ll find interesting.” The scrape of a chair across concrete. “About your father.”
My head snaps up involuntarily.
Jax grins. “Finally got your attention.” He holds up a tablet. “Did you know there were security cameras at your father’s cliff house? The footage was archived in our system.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your daddy’s suicide.” He spits the last word. “That’s what everyone believes happened, right? Poor little Aurora’s father jumped off a cliff.”
My throat tightens. “Don’t.”
Jax turns the tablet toward me. “But what if I told you that it wasn’t suicide at all?”
The screen shows grainy security footage. Date stamp: twelve years ago. I recognize the cliff edge behind my father’s house.
My father stands at the precipice, his back to the camera. Another figure approaches—younger, but I’m sure it’s Jax.
“No,” I whisper.
They appear to argue. Then Jax lunges forward, shoving my father hard. My father’s arms windmill as he tries to catch his balance, but he falls backward.
Out of sight. Off the cliff.
Jax turns to the camera and smiles.
And then I see men running toward him, and it cuts off.
I can’t breathe. My entire body trembles as twelve years of grief transform into something darker, more volatile.
“It was him or me,” Jax says, casual as if discussing the weather. “My initiation into the Vipers.”
Tears stream down my face as I stare at the frozen image of Jax’s triumphant smile.
“You murdered him,” I whisper.
“I liberated him,” Jax corrects. “And now you understand what kind of man you’re dealing with.”
The footage plays again. This time with sound.
“Please, Jax. I have a family. Daughter.” My father’s voice—God, his voice—something I’d started to forget. “We can work together in the Vipers. There’s room for both?—”
“There’s only room for one of us,” Jax cuts him off. “And I beat you to the punch.”
My father stumbles backward as Jax advances. “My daughter?—”
“Should’ve thought about them before trying to join our ranks.” Jax’s face remains expressionless as he closes the distance. “The position is mine now.”
“Don’t do this?—”
