Darkness clung to her like a second skin.It was the kind of darkness that wasn’t just the absence of light, but the absence of time, of certainty, of self. Sienna floated in it, her body heavy, her thoughts fragmented. Snatches of sound seeped through like water through cracks: tires screeching, a man shouting, the muffled thud of fists meeting flesh.And then, silence.When her eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing she saw was the ceiling—peeling paint, water stains blooming across plaster. A light bulb buzzed overhead, too dim to drive the shadows from the corners of the room.Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick. She tried to sit up, but her wrists were tied behind her back, biting into her skin.Panic flared.She wasn’t in her apartment. She wasn’t in the SUV.Where the hell was she?Her chest rose and fell too quickly, shallow and sharp, until the sound of footsteps made her freeze.The door creaked open.And there he was.Jax.Not polished or composed—blood smeared along
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