Chapter 2

"Jax, the target is right inside," Marcus said at the front door, bowing slightly like a loyal hound.

The front door was kicked off its hinges.

The men poured in. I counted eight in the first wave, with more shadows moving in the hallway outside.

They all had buzz cuts, carrying steel pipes and combat knives. They immediately fanned out, blocking every exit from the kitchen.

The man in the lead had a massive black dragon tattooed from his neck to the back of his ear. A jagged scar ran across his left eye, pulling his eyelid into a permanent squint.

He looked at the soapy foam and blood on the floor, his gaze finally landing on me.

"This little girl?"

"She sliced up four of my guards," Marcus said, brushing dust off his sleeve.

Jax walked over and crouched in front of me.

He grabbed my chin, turning my face left and right like a butcher inspecting meat at a market.

"How old?"

I didn't answer.

The dish soap had numbed my tongue, making it hard to form words.

"He asked you a question," the guard stepping on my wrist snarled, pressing down harder. A sharp, white-hot pain shot up my arm.

"Twenty-two," I managed to squeeze out.

Jax smirked. He looked at my mom crying on the floor, then back at me, nodding slowly.

"Alright, Marcus, how do you want to handle this?"

"The old lady refuses to sign the deed," Marcus said, kicking the file folder my mom was protecting. "Get rid of the girl first. The old lady will sign soon enough."

Jax stood up, gesturing to his men.

Two thugs dragged me up from the floor, pinning me against the heavy wooden dining table.

One held my shoulders down, while the other forced my right hand flat against the tabletop, spreading my fingers wide.

Jax placed a heavy combat knife on the table.

"Hey kid, you sliced my boy's hand earlier, right?"

He picked up the knife, tapping the tip of the blade against my index finger.

"A finger for a finger. Seems fair, doesn't it?"

My mom shrieked from the floor.

Her voice was completely ruined, sounding like rusty metal scraping against concrete.

"Don't touch her! I'll sign! I'll sign the deed!"

Chloe immediately knelt down beside her.

"Are you serious this time?"

"Yes... yes... just don't hurt my baby..."

Chloe snatched the folder, pulling out the deed.

She reached into her bag, pulled out a pre-drafted transfer agreement, and slapped it in front of my mom.

"Sign it. We could have avoided all of this if you'd just cooperated."

My mom’s hand was shaking so violently she couldn't even hold the pen.

Chloe lost her patience.

"It doesn't have to be pretty. A thumbprint in blood works too."

I watched my mom’s trembling hand slowly move toward the paper.

"Mom, don't sign it," I said.

Everyone in the room turned to look at me.

Jax raised the heavy knife.

"Say one more word, I dare you."

"Don't sign."

The knife came down.

But it didn't cut my fingers. The flat of the blade slammed hard onto the wooden table, making the plates rattle.

"Just a little scare," Jax said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "Marcus said not to make a mess that the cops can't cover up."

But his cold, dead eyes told me: *Next time, I won't miss.*

Chloe snatched the pen away from my mom.

She stood up, walking over to stand right in front of me, looking down like I was dirt.

"Serene, do you know why you've been in this house for three years and still feel like a stranger?"

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a vicious whisper.

"Because you don't belong here. You're just garbage they threw away, and then stupidly decided to bring back."

She picked up my rusted black beacon from the floor, dangling it in front of my face.

"What is this? Your little treasure?"

She tossed it to Jax.

Jax caught it, turned it over, and let out a dry chuckle.

"What is this relic? A walkie-talkie from the nineties?"

He dropped the beacon onto the floor and slammed his heavy boot down on it.

The sound of cracking plastic was incredibly loud in the quiet kitchen.

I looked down at the broken pieces.

The indicator light was crushed, the circuit board snapped clean in half.

The red button popped out from its spring, rolling away to the leg of the table.

Chloe sneered.

"Any other tricks? Let's see them."

I said nothing.

She didn't know. Once that red button was pressed, my coordinates were locked. It didn't need a signal, it didn't need a response.

Within thirty minutes, my people would arrive.

But Chloe didn't know. Marcus didn't know. Jax didn't know.

I just had to survive for thirty minutes.

Jax crouched down again, tapping the cold blade of his knife against my cheek.

"Sign the papers, kid. I really don't want to get blood on my nice knife."

Only four minutes had passed.

"Marcus, her eyes look weird," Jax said, standing up and frowning. "Are you sure she’s just some quiet freak?"

Marcus laughed, waving his hand dismissively.

"She's a piece of trash we dragged out of the slums. What are you worried about?"