Page 59 of Call It What You Want
Shit.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps pounding up the back stairs. Voices shouting. In seconds, Jackson burst into the room, followed by a handful of other people.
Fuck, thank God.
He stops dead, taking in the chaos with one sweep of the room. A cricket bat hangs at his side, his knuckles white around the handle, jaw locked tight, eyes burning with murder.
Then he moves.
Short Guy barely has time to turn his head before Jackson swings. The bat connects with a wet, sickening crack. The guy hits the floor, his body folding awkwardly. Jackson doesn’t even look down; he just steps over him, eyes locked on the taller one in front of me—his real target.
My stomach twists because I know what’s coming.
He flicks his chin at me. “Move.”
Without thinking, I scramble onto the bed and across to the other side.
Tall Guy pulls out a gun and tries to say something, but Jackson isn’t listening. He has that look in his eyes. That look that means only one thing—violence.
The guy brings the gun up and points it at Jackson. I gasp. But before the guy can even blink, Jackson swings, and the gun goes flying. He doesn’t stop there. The guy tries to dodge the second swing, but Jackson is already there. The bat connects with his ribs, with a loud, sickeningthwack.I hear the cartilage snap. It’s a hollow, horrible sound that makes my teeth ache. The guy instantly crumples, gasping for air, body twitching from the hit.
Jackson flips the bat one-handed, repositioning his grip. “You thought you could touch my wife and walk away,” he sneers. “Now you’ll learn what real pain feels like.”
Another swing. More bones cracking. The man’s scream is choked, like the pain itself is lodged in his throat. Another swing cracks into his shoulder, another into his ribs. The guy twists, throws his hands up, and tries to fight back, but it’s useless under the relentless force that is Jackson McKnight. Blood trickles from his mouth.
Jackson leans in close, teeth bared in a predator’s snarl. “I could do this all night, and enjoy every fucking second.”
The final hit lands on the side of his head. A dull, meatythud,followed by a twitch and then stillness. The man lies crumpled, unmoving, a red stain slowly growing, soaking into the rug beneath him.
Jackson stands over him, chest heaving, blood running down his forearms and streaking the bat. His knuckles are white, arms trembling—not from exhaustion, but from raw, unbridled rage.
The entire room has gone silent. Everyone is frozen in place.
“No one touches what’s mine,” he growls, his voice low, feral. “And if they try… they usually wish they were dead before I’m done with them.”
His eyes lock onto mine, and something in that look flash-freezes the blood in my veins. I can’t breathe. My hands are shaking. My legs feel like they can’t hold my weight.
Time stops. I’m transfixed by him—this force of violence who just erased the threat hanging over me—and a forbidden electricity sparks through my veins. He’s a fucking psycho. Completely unhinged. And yet, I’mturned onby it.
The other people in the room are dealing with Ember and Short Guy. He’s alive, and they’re forcing him out of the room. Probably taking him down to the basement.
Jackson comes around to me, and grabs me by the shoulders, his critical gaze raking down my body. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, but my body is trembling, adrenaline still pumping through my veins while my mind tries to piece together what the fuck just happened.
“Ava, baby.” The voice is calm, steady. He pulls me against his chest. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”
Two other Sacred Sons come barreling into the room. Christian and Lucas. The twins. Identical, except for the boho bracelets one of them—Lucas, I think—always wears.
“What the fuck happened?” Lucas demands, his voice cutting.
“A couple of guys broke in and attacked Ava,” Jackson bites out.
“How?” Christian asks in disbelief. “We’ve got former SEALs on rotation twenty-four-fucking-seven. No one should’ve been able to step foot on the property, let alone get inside.”
“Lowe took a bullet to the arm. He’s on his way to the hospital,” Jackson says. “They must’ve used that as a distraction while two of their guys slipped inside.”
“Who’sthey?” Christian asks.
