MasukMadison
Gravel crunches under my tires as I pull in front of the packhouse, and for a moment I just sit there with my hands still on the steering wheel, staring up at the house I grew up in. Nothing about it has changed.
The packhouse stands at the end of the long circular driveway, a timber-and-stone ranch house with a wide wraparound porch and iron lanterns casting gold light across the wood and stone. Massive oak trees frame the p
JayVoicesspillfromthelivingroomjustofffromthegrandstaircase,screamingformyattention.IturntowardthemandfindMadisonnearthefireplace,withherarmswrappedaroundherselfsotightlythatitmakesmychestburnobsessively.Herfaceispale,herbodytremblesbutshewon’tbackdownthroughhersheerstubbornnessalone.She'sanAlpha’sdaughter,herbloodthickwithdeterminationandlonglineoflegacy.Ialmostadmireit.Alp
JayMadisongasps,hereyesinstantlyswellwithtearsandherhandcovershermouth.Onesideofthegatehangstwistedinward,themetalpeeledbacklikerippedfleshwhileclawmarksscorealongtheframeinthickstreaks.Theguardpostbesideitisbarelystandingwiththewindowsshatteredandtheroofhalfcollapsedin.Thiswasn’tarogueattack,thiswasamassacre.Nashjustdidn’twanttoadmitit.Myfooteasesoffthegasandthecar
MadisonTerrorclawsthroughmybody,burrowingdeepintomybonesuntileverymuscleislockedinplace.Shockisastrangething.Ialwaysassumeditwasloud,dramaticenoughtotearthroughyoulikelightningandleavenothingstandinginitswake.Butrealshock?It’smuchquieterthanthat.Itslipsintoyourbodylikecoldwater,seepingthrougheverylimbuntilyourbodynolongerfeelslikeyourownandyourthoughtsslidethroughyour&
JayYoucan’tbeafraidofthethingsthatmakeyoufeelalive.Idon’trememberwhereIhearditfirst.Maybefromsomeoneolder,someoneawholelotwiser.Someonewhodidn’thavetolivewiththeconsequencesofactuallybelievingit.NowI’mstartingtorealizeit’snotthatsimple.Becausethosethingsdon’tjustmakeyoufeelalive,theymakeyourecklessandeverythingaboutthisistextbookrecklessbutIstilldon&rsqu
MadisonAstingshootsacrossmyknucklesasIpoundonthedoor.Thesoundcomesofftooloudandurgent.Icringe,swallowinghardandsqueezingmyeyesshutlikethat’sgoingtoreversethedecisionI’vealreadycommittedto.Mychestistight,myjawlocked,myfingerscurlingintomypalmasIknockagain,harderthistime,becauseifhethinksI’mjustgoingtowalkaway…ifhethinksI’mgoingtopretend&nb
JayMy jaw shifts slightly, resentment coiling in my chest as Madison’s face flashes through my head and I cut the thought off hard.This is easier, simpler. Straightforward, with no strings attached. It’s just an outlet. A much needed release. “You busy?” I ask.A small pause passes. Then it follows with a softer, knowing exactly what I mean, “For you? Never.”It’s not like I expected anything less. I exhale slowly, something dark settling into place. “Come over.”There’s no hesitation this time. “Send me the address.”I end the call without a goodbye, already keying my address into the phone.I’m not even fully through my door before the knock echoes behind me. A smirk pulls on my lips, a reminder that she’s always been an eager beaver. My shirt’s already halfway off as I make my way to the door, fabric dragging over my shoulders before I toss it somewhere behind me and reach for the handle.The door swings open and she’s standing there already smiling, her long brown hair cascadi
MadisonThe leather seats are warm beneath me in Adrian’s car, the heat settling into my skin while the city mo
MadisonWhat the fuck was that?
JayI swore I’d never be back.I left this state before sunrise with a duffel bag and a bad decision. Now, I’m driving back into Dallas on a multi-million-dollar contract.Life’s sure got a sense of humor.Dallas didn’t just trade for me, they signed me for eight years. Which means I’m not visiting
Madison Ten Years Later…The first thing you learn about heartbreak is that time doesn’t erase anything.People love to say it does. They say give it a few years; you’ll forget, you’ll move on.Ten years later, I can confirm that’s complete bullshit.Time doesn’t erase anything. It doesn’t wipe aw







