I didn't even have the chance to breathe.

  He had me pinned to the door. His arm braced across my throat, not tight enough to choke, but just enough to remind me that he could. The wooden frame creaked behind me as his weight leaned in.

  "Who sent you?"

  His voice was like gravel underfoot, calm, measured, but with that edge. The kind of voice that didn't threaten violence. It promised it.

  My heart smmed against my ribs, and a cold wash of panic swept through me. His grip wasn't cutting off my air, but it made me feel small. Powerless. And I hated that. I fought against that feeling every damn day.

  I couldn't show fear. Not now.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I rasped out, but my voice betrayed me, trembling just enough to show the crack.

  His eyes narrowed, scanning my face like he could peel away every lie I'd ever told. The pressure of his arm didn't ease, it pushed harder, pinning me like I was nothing more than a bug beneath his boot.

  I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet his gaze. Fear wouldn't help. Panic wouldn't get me out of this room.

  The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

  Then he leaned in, just a fraction close enough that his breath ghosted over my skin.

  "Wrong answer."

  Pain bloomed as he shifted his grip, twisting my wrist behind my back with practiced ease. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound. I'd been in worse situations. I'd faced men who thought cruelty was the same thing as power.

  This wasn't new.

  But I had never been this unprepared.

  "Try again," he murmured, his tone still calm. "Who sent you?"

  "I told you," I forced out, the words scraping my throat. "No one."

  His grip tightened.

  Then it happened, again.

  A spark. Sharp and cold, racing up my spine. Not pain. Something deeper. Something ancient.

  The curse stirred.

  Not now.

  My vision swam for a heartbeat, the world warping like ink bleeding through water. Something pressed beneath my skin, old and coiled and waiting. The air thinned. The room darkened.

  And his grip faltered.

  Just barely. Just enough.

  I moved.

  I twisted hard, yanking free as I smmed my knee into his side. It wasn't enough to drop him, but it gave me space. It gave me a chance.

  I didn't wait.

  I shoved past him, the door smming open as I tore into the dim hall beyond, my boots hammering against the floor.

  He recovered fast. Too fast.

  I didn't look back. Didn't slow down. I didn't know this pce, didn't care.

  I just needed out.

  His footsteps thundered behind me, gaining.

  I skidded around the corner, nearly wiping out on the slick, warped floorboards. A door hung crooked at the end of the hall, rotting and half-off its hinges. Probably useless. Probably a dead end.

  Didn't matter.

  I threw myself at it shoulder-first. Nothing.

  I hit it again, harder this time. The wood groaned, split. I wedged my fingers into the crack and pulled.

  Pain nced through my hand as the splinters tore my skin, but I didn't stop. Couldn't.

  My fingers were raw. Bleeding. I barely noticed.

  The door burst open and I stumbled out into a narrow alley, choked with garbage and fog. Somewhere behind me, I heard him crash through the hallway, closer than I'd hoped.

  I ran.

  The cobblestones were slick beneath my boots, and more than once I nearly ate the street face-first.

  But I kept going.

  Twisting, ducking, weaving through the shadows and flickering ntern light until I couldn't tell which way was up anymore.

  I vaulted a low railing, nding hard in the damp canal district. The stink of salt and stagnant water hit me like a wall. I ducked beneath a wooden bridge and pressed myself against the stone, chest heaving.

  Silence.

  I strained to listen, boots scuffing stone, voices in the distance, but… nothing close.

  Not yet.

  I exhaled slowly, forcing my pulse to slow. I wasn't safe. But I had distance. Time.

  The letter was delivered. That should've been the end of it.

  Whatever mess I'd just stumbled into. It had nothing to do with me anymore.

  At least, it shouldn't.

  I needed to get home.

  My heartbeat still pounded in my ears, but I forced myself to move, sticking to the shadows. The city was quieter now, most of Araes had long since retreated indoors, leaving only the occasional patrol or drunken wanderer.

  I kept my pace quick but measured. Rushing would draw attention. I needed to blend in, disappear.

  Just as I rounded a corner, aiming for the familiar route home, I crashed into someone.

  A strong grip caught me before I could stumble back.

  "Whoa!" Jax's voice rang out.

  My pulse spiking again. I'd been too distracted, too caught up in my own head.

  I looked up, already expecting the usual smirk, that teasing glint in his eyes.

  But it wasn't there.

  Instead, his gaze locked on my hands. More specifically, the bruises scattered across my knuckles.

  My stomach twisted. I hadn't even noticed how tightly I'd been clenching my fists.

  Jax stepped closer, and the shift in his expression was immediate. Gone was the pyful mask, repced by something quieter, more serious.

  "What happened?" he asked, his voice softer than I expected. The usual sharpness had dulled, repced by something I didn't want to name.

  I crossed my arms quickly, still on edge. "It's nothing," I snapped, looking away. The st thing I wanted was his pity.

  He didn't back off. His eyes were still fixed on my hands, and when he reached for them, gentle this time, I jerked away, heat prickling at my skin.

  "I have to go—"

  Before I could say another word, he grabbed my arm, his grip firm, and pulled me out of the alley.

  "Hey—what the hell—"

  "Shut up, you're coming with me," Jax said, his voice hard. He didn't wait for me to argue. Just kept moving, dragging me with him through the streets.

  I struggled for a moment, trying to break free, but he was stronger. And the way his jaw was set told me this wasn't up for debate.

  "Where are we going?" I asked, irritation fring, confusion trailing close behind.

  "Somewhere safe," he replied, not even gncing back. "And don't try to get away. You're not in any condition to be out on your own right now."

  I opened my mouth to snap at him, but he turned another corner too fast for me to catch up.

  "Jax," I said, my voice colder now, biting. "I swear, if you—"

  He didn't respond.

  We kept walking.

  He didn't slow down, his grip tight, his pace unrelenting. I nearly tripped trying to keep up with the turns he took, and I was about to give up on asking anything else when we stopped in front of a weathered old building, nestled between narrow shops.

  The sign above was faded, but I could still make out the emblem. A sword crossed with a quill.

  I narrowed my eyes. "Is this a guild?"

  "Something like that," he muttered, pulling me inside.

  The pce was dimly lit and cluttered, filled with shelves of old scrolls, weapons, and magical artifacts I couldn't begin to name. The air smelled like ink and leather, oddly comforting.

  He led me toward the back, up a narrow, creaky staircase.

  Even through my irritation, I felt it. The warmth that radiated from this pce. It felt... safe.

  The second floor was more of a loft than anything. Open, cluttered, divided by instinct rather than design. A couch sat in one corner, fnked by mismatched chairs and a table buried under papers, books, and strange tools.

  Yeah. Definitely Jax's kind of pce.

  Before I could say anything, he pointed to the couch. "Sit."

  I gave him a look, but he was already rummaging through a cabinet near the wall. He pulled out a worn leather kit that contains bandages, antiseptic, and a few other tools I couldn't name.

  With a sigh, I slouched onto the couch, arms crossed, still stewing but too tired to fight.

  "I am fine," I muttered, "It's not like I'm dying."

  Jax didn't respond right away. Instead, he moved over to me and knelt in front of the couch. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his gaze on my hands again. Without asking, he reached out and began to unwrap one of my fists, carefully examining the bruises and cuts across my knuckles.

  His touch was gentle, annoyingly so.

  Then his eyes caught on something else, a bruise at the side of my neck. I saw the moment he noticed. His fingers hesitated just slightly, his expression tightening.

  "Why didn't you tell me about this?" he muttered, almost like he was speaking to himself.

  I looked away, jaw clenched. "Does it matter? It's not like you care."

  His expression darkened, but he didn't say anything. He just started cleaning the wounds on my hands, careful and precise, as if I might break.

  "You're lucky you didn't get caught," he said after a beat of silence. "If they had gotten their hands on you... it would've been worse than just a bruise."

  I clenched my teeth. "I didn't ask for your help."

  "I'm not giving you a choice," he shot back, his voice ft and firm. "You're staying here for a while."

  I blinked at him, caught off guard. "What? I'm not—"

  "Yeah, you are," he cut in, not even looking up as he wrapped the bandage around my hand. "You've got enough on your pte right now. I'm not letting you walk back into the city alone, not after tonight."

  I opened my mouth to argue, but he raised a hand like he already knew I'd try.

  "You can go back to your pce once you've rested. But for now, just stay put."

  I gnced around the loft again, unease still creeping under my skin.

  It felt strange being here, away from the narrow halls and quiet hum of our little apartment.

  And yet... something about this pce felt safe.

  Still, I wasn't about to let him get the st word. "I don't need your charity," I muttered.

  He finished wrapping my hand and moved on to the bruise on my neck, gently applying some kind of ointment that stung just a little.

  "It's not charity," he said quietly. "It's just... what I'm doing."

  I bit back the urge to argue again. I was too tired. Instead, I just gred at him, trying to ignore how my heartbeat had finally settled, my anger giving way to a heavy, dragging kind of exhaustion.

  "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" I mumbled.

  He smirked, eyes flicking up to meet mine. "Yeah, well, you're welcome."

  Jax finished tending to the st of my wounds, his hands steady as he made sure the bandages were snug. For a second, the room settled into a quiet that was... oddly comfortable. The soft crackling of a fire somewhere nearby filled the space with just enough sound to keep the silence from feeling too heavy.

  I shifted, uncomfortable with how still everything had gotten. My gaze drifted toward the window, just a slit in the wall framed with dusty curtains. The streetmps outside glowed faintly, casting long shadows across the floor. It was ter than I thought. And I could feel it. Every part of me ached, exhaustion digging into my bones like cold.

  "You're still not saying anything about where we are?" I asked, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

  Jax leaned back on his heels, studying me for a moment like he was deciding whether to lie or not to lie. "I told you it's my pce. Don't worry about it." He stated.

  I narrowed my eyes. "You're not going to expin it any further, are you?"

  He gave a short shake of his head, a faint grin pying at the edge of his lips. "Nope."

  "Great," I muttered, leaning forward slightly. My body protested immediately. Every movement sent a dull throb through my neck and shoulders. That bastard's grip had left more than just a mark. It had left a reminder.

  "You're not going anywhere tonight," Jax said, like he'd plucked the thought right out of my head. "Might as well get comfortable. We've got a spare room. Rest. You'll need it."

  I opened my mouth to argue but then I caught something in his expression. The smirk was gone. His gaze softened for just a breath, something flickering behind it. Something that didn't quite match the usual smugness.

  "I'm not going to bite your head off," he added, shrugging like he hadn't just looked at me like that. "Just... stay here for the night. It's not like you have any other choice right now."

  I sighed, frustrated and tired. Gods, I hated when he was right.

  "Fine," I muttered, folding my arms across my chest again. "But I'm not staying long."

  Jax gave me a look, one of those looks that said he knew better but wasn't about to argue. "That's what I said."

  He stood and walked over to a cabinet, pulling out a clean cloth. "Get some rest, Dawn. I'll be right outside if you need anything. Irah won't be back for a while, so you've got time to—"

  His voice faded out as I leaned back into the couch, my eyes slipping shut for what I told myself would just be a moment.

  But the weight of the day crashed into me all at once. I hadn't realized just how much I'd been holding in, how much tension had been wrapped around me like a second skin.

  The warmth of the room settled over me, and I let it. Just for a little while. I let the exhaustion take me under, dragging me into a sleep that was too deep, too heavy... and far from peaceful.

  ~

  Jax stood quietly, watching Dawn sleep soundly on the couch. Her body was rexed, her face soft, but there was still a trace of tension lingering in the way her jaw was clenched and the faint furrow between her brows.

  Even in sleep, she couldn't fully let go.

  He sighed quietly to himself, a mix of concern and frustration washing over him. He didn't like seeing her like this, vulnerable and exhausted. She fought so hard to keep everything under control, to hold onto that sense of independence, but it was clear to him there was only so much she could take before it all came crashing down.

  A pang of guilt twisted in Jax's gut.

  Maybe if he hadn't gotten involved, if he hadn't been so insistent on getting her to do something, she wouldn't have ended up like this. He didn't think it would go this far.

  Hell, he hadn't meant for it to go this far.

  Jax shook his head, his usual teasing smile absent. He wasn't going to leave her here, sprawled on the couch. Carefully, he knelt beside her, his hand gently brushing her hair out of her face.

  Dawn stirred slightly but didn't wake. Her breathing remained even, deep in sleep. Jax hesitated for a moment, then carefully slid his arms beneath her, lifting her with ease. She was lighter than he expected, but her body felt fragile in his arms, a stark contrast to the fierce and stubborn woman he usually knew.

  As he stood, he adjusted his hold on her, making sure she was secure in his arms. She was so small, so vulnerable in his grip. He moved through the loft with practiced steps, careful not to jostle her, his thoughts racing even as he kept his attention focused on her.

  Jax reached the small bedroom at the far end of the loft, pushing the door open with his foot. It was sparsely furnished, but it had everything needed to make her comfortable. A bed, a small dresser, a chair by the window.

  The room was quiet, almost too still, the faint glow from the moon casting long shadows across the floor.

  He gently id her down on the bed, making sure her head settled against the soft pillow, pulling the bnket over her and tucking it carefully around her. For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her, trying to ignore the nagging guilt that had settled deep in his gut. His hand lingered at the edge of the bnket, fingers brushing against the cool fabric.

  I pushed you too far, Dawn.

  He could still see her face, bruised and tired, the fear in her eyes when she tried to escape earlier. He'd seen it, and still, he couldn't stop himself from involving her in this.

  Jax sighed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to leave but stopped before stepping out the door, he gnced back over his shoulder. Her face was serene now, peaceful in a way he hadn't seen her in a long time.

  And with that, he walked away, leaving her to the quiet of the room and the fleeting peace that came with sleep.