Page 109 of Jax & Knox

Justin forces me out of the bedroom, one hand wrapped around my upper arm, the other holding Owen against his chest like a shield. I try to look toward the porch, desperate for any sign of movement, any sign of life, but the second man blocks my view, his body placed to keep me from seeing. All I can see is a dark shape on the ground. Not moving. A pool of something black spreading beneath it.

No.

Justin shoves me into the back seat of a dark car with Owen in my lap. The inside smells like cigarettes and stale fast food. The second man climbs into the driver's seat, adjusting the rearview mirror to watch us. Justin gets in beside me, the gun resting casually on his thigh, pointed in my direction like an afterthought.

As we pull away, I look back once, craning my neck to see through the rear window.

The cabin is lit up now, headlights cutting through the darkness, flashlights bobbing like fireflies, figures moving with frantic urgency. Someone is kneeling beside the shape on the porch, their hands pressed against what must be a wound. I can't tell who it is. Can't tell if they're trying to save him or saying goodbye.

Jax.

Then the trees close in and he's gone.

We drive for a long time.

I lose track of the miles, the turns, the hours. Everything blurs together into an endless stretch of darkness and fear. Owen eventually cries himself into an exhausted sleep against my chest, his little body limp with exhaustion. I hold him tighter than I should, my arms aching, but I can't let go. Justin doesn't speak. Neither do I. Every mile puts more distance between me and the only people who have ever made me feel safe. Between me and any hope of rescue.

My mind won't stop replaying it.

The gunshots. The sound of them, loud, final, irreversible.

The blood. So much blood, spreading across the weathered wood.

Jax's voice, cut off mid-sentence, mid-breath, mid-life.

He's dead.

He's dead because of me.

I killed him.

The thought loops over and over until I can't tell where one ends and the next begins, until it becomes a mantra, a punishment, a truth I can't escape.

Knox lost his brother because of me. The brother who looked up to him, who trusted him, who followed him into this mess because of me.

Mason lost one of his men. One of his family.

Lucy. Tiny. Steele. Everyone at the clubhouse who welcomed me, protected me, cared for Owen like he was their own.

I destroyed another family. Just like I destroyed my own.

Justin glances over at me, studying my face in the darkness. "You're quiet."

I don't answer. What is there to say?

"You know what they'll do?" he asks, his voice almost casual, like we're talking about the weather. "They'll blame you. Every one of those bikers. That brother of his? He's going to hate you. He'll probably put a bullet in you himself if he ever sees you again."

I close my eyes, trying to block out his voice, but it seeps in anyway.

"You think I'm the monster," Justin continues, warming to his theme now. "But you're the one who got him killed. You brought this on yourself, Ainsley. You always do. Everything you touch turns to shit. Everyone who tries to help you ends up destroyed."

I want to scream at him. I want to tell him he's wrong, that he's the one who did this, that he's been the monster all along.

But I can't.

Because he's right. Not about everything, but about enough.

Jax died protecting me. Knox will never forgive me. Owen will grow up knowing his mother got the only father he ever knew killed. Got the man who held him at night and taught him to smile killed over her stupidity, her weakness, her inability to just disappear properly.