Page 132 of Jax
I didn’t move. Stella didn’t either, but something had changed. Not her posture. Not her breath. It lived deeper. That kind of resolve you only build from collapse, or forged armor. I wasn’t sure which one this was.
I studied her the way I used to study targets; deliberate, focused, unflinching. Her fists were clenched, wrists twitching like static had replaced her pulse.
I kept my voice low. “You’re winding up,” I said.
She didn’t look at me. “No, I’m fine.”
“You’re never fine when you say ‘fine’ like that. I’ve been keeping a logbook.”
That earned me a sideways glance and the ghost of an annoyed smile, just a twitch of the lips. Then a sigh, small and sharp.
“I just... I keep thinking about her. What if she’s in the dark right now, wondering if I gave up? Wondering if I traded her safety for my comfort?”
My chest ached in that tight, raw way I still didn’t have good words for. I’d spent most of my life not feeling things the same way other people did. But Stella? She bypassed all of that. Found the glitch in my system, and programmed herself into it.
“She wouldn’t think that,” I said. “Not for a second.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve seen you fight your way out of trauma, and I’ve seen you hold it like armor. You would never leave someone behind. And if Violet is anything atalllike you, then she has reserves of strength that should make the Dom Krovi tremble in their boots.”
Her eyes began to fill with tears. Just a bare glimmer. But it didn’t fall.
“But what if Ididleave her behind?” she whispered. “What if we’re too late?”
I turned toward her fully, bringing one hand to the back of her neck, warm, steady, anchoring. My voice dropped into the cadence I used when she needed to believe it wasn’t just comfort. It wasmath. Truth, mapped in patterns.
“Then we still fight. Every second we wait, they think we’re folding. But we’re not. We’re collecting variables. Gathering data. Preparing to strike with precision instead of panic. That’s how we win, Stella.”
She let out a long breath, like the air itself had been scraped raw inside her lungs.
“I want to help,” she said. “But I don’t want to be another liability.”
“You’re not a liability,” I said. “You’re the catalyst. The repeated word that cracked the Enigma code.”
She blinked slowly, like she wasn’t sure she believed me, but she wanted to.
“I keep thinking about that voice,” she said at last. “The one behind the glass. It wasn’t just cold. It was deliberate. Measured. Like they’d done it before.”
“Which means they’ve made mistakes before, too,” I said. “Patterns don’t just show behavior. They show vulnerability. If I can trace that voice, if Quinn can pinpoint the location… we’ll find Violet. And we’ll dismantle whatever web they built to hide her.”
Her breath caught, but she nodded. “Do you really think she’s still alive?”
I didn’t answer right away. Not because I didn’t believe it, but because she deserved something real. Not comfort dressed up as truth.
“I think she’s holding on,” I said at last. “Because she believes you’ll come for her.”
She turned then, her gaze catching mine with that same brittle, burning force I’d learned to recognize not as fragility, but as refusal. Fierce. Total. It wasn’t the kind of fire that begged for air. It was the kind that made it.
“Then we'd better find her before she lets go.”
I stepped closer, brushing my fingers along the back of her neck. My forehead tipped to hers, not for comfort. A vow.
“We will,” I said. “No matter what it takes.”
She didn’t speak, but the way she leaned into me said enough. Not collapse. Not surrender. Just a decision made in stillness. A shift. She didn’t need to believe it would be easy. Only that she wouldn’t face it alone.
Because she wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever.
