Chapter 6
MACKENZIE
The sound I made was soft, involuntary. The entire group went silent.
“You seriously think I’d believe that?” Jackson sneered, rising with deliberate menace. Max was on his feet in an instant, matching his cold energy like a beast.
“I know you haven’t even fucked her,” Jackson spat, eyes gleaming with cruel confidence. “All that talk from you, but you’re just noise, Max. All bark, no bite.”
Max’s glare sliced through the air. “And how exactly would you know that?”
“Because I had her pressed into the back of my truck two months ago. She told me she was a virgin.” His voice dropped to a sickening whisper. “She was tight. Tight enough to bleed all over me.”
My heart lurched with a sickening thud as the terrifying memory of that night crashed over us.
Two Months Earlier
Marigold, Georgia
The lights from the soccer field were still glowing faintly in the distance, casting long shadows across the empty parking lot.
The game had ended over an hour ago, but Jackson didn’t seem in a rush to leave.
He sat on the tailgate of his truck—shirt off, hair damp with sweat, cleats still on—legs dangling like he had nowhere else to be.
I sat between his knees, facing him, the cool night air brushing my skin.
“You were amazing out there,” I said, voice soft. My fingers traced the faint curve of muscle on his arm.
He smirked. Not cocky this time, but proud. “I’m glad you stayed for the whole game.”
“Every second,” I smiled, stretching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. I hesitated, then pressed another to his cheek, then his neck. I felt his pulse thrum beneath his skin. I heard his breath hitch, felt his fingers twitch on my waist.
“You always make me feel like the only guy in the world. I don’t know how you could love somebody like me,” he whispered in my ear.
I blushed. My heart fluttered. When he was like this, it was easy to forget the hours he went silent. How he could flip cold without warning, and warm again when it suited him.
Right now, he was golden. The Jackson I was falling for. Because I was an idiot.
“I want this to be special,” I murmured, brushing my hand through his damp hair. “You’re all I think about.”
He swallowed hard, nerves tangled with something warmer, darker.
“Are you… sure?” he asked, his breath catching. His thumb grazed my cheek. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”
I believed him.
We crawled into the back of the truck. The blanket he pulled out scratched against my legs.
He kissed me like he had all the time in the world, whispering things that made me feel wanted, seen.
But his hands were rough when he took my clothes off, and when I lay down, he didn’t wait for me to tell him I was ready.
When he slid the condom on, my thoughts immediately went to Max.
I wanted to tell Jackson to stop—that I’d changed my mind, that I wasn’t ready—but within minutes he broke through my barrier and was inside me.
The pain sliced through my body, stretching, burning.
I wanted to cry. He stayed completely silent.
Jackson… I…” I pushed at his chest, but he grabbed my hands instead, pinning them above my head against the seat, holding me in place.
He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t say a single word. He just rocked into me, mechanical, and in a few minutes, he was done. When he pulled out, I winced.
“Oh. You bled all over me,” he muttered, looking down.
His words hit me, and a feeling of dread surged through my veins.
Every sound from outside the truck suddenly became loud.
The distant hum of stadium lights cooling.
A lone cicada screeching from the treeline.
The metallic tick of the engine settling.
I curled inward, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to make myself small.
His fingers hovered near me. My stomach churned. When he finally drew his hand back into the light, there was blood smeared across his skin.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, his voice carrying a feverish quality, as he lifted his fingers and placed them inside his mouth.
I gasped, breath catching like a knife lodged in my throat. For the first time all night, my heartbeat wasn’t fluttering—it was racing.
It was almost like I was staring into the dead eyes of my father.
Every instinct in me screamed to run.
Paranoia snatched me by the throat as I surfaced from the memory. I scanned for Max and found him staring at Jackson, face stone cold. But there was a terrifying calm in his eyes—like the quiet before a bomb goes off.
The part of him he’d been holding back was about to surface.
“Say that again.”
His voice was barely above a growl. It was low, lethal, promising destruction.
Jackson’s grin spread, triumphant, as if he’d just dealt the final blow.
“She was dripping, begging for it. Swore she’d never done it before. I thought she was faking it… but then she bled. I probably shouldn’t have worn a condom, would’ve been so much fucking better than it was.”
Without warning, Max lunged.
He didn’t scream. Didn’t swing. He grabbed Jackson by the collar so violently that Jackson’s smug expression shattered like glass.
Max’s eyes were wildfires, burning with rage and a savage, desperate possessiveness.
His jaw clenched until the muscles strained, every fiber in his body taut and trembling.
“You don’t talk about her like that,” Max growled, voice raw and deadly. “Not to me. Not to anyone. It’s disrespectful.”
Jackson shoved him off.
“What? You mad she gave it to me before you?”
Max laughed so loudly I thought his body might splinter in two. He stepped in front of Jackson, their noses almost touching, and his laughter abruptly stopped.
“Don’t worry. I’ve fucked the memory of you out of her.”
I know I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but hearing those words come out of his mouth ignited a heat that surged through my entire body. It was dizzying, raw, and so wrong. So, so wrong.
Jackson’s grin dropped, and he stepped towards Max with pure anger in his eyes.
That’s when I stepped between them. My hand pressed firmly against Max’s chest, just enough to make him hesitate, though I could feel the tremors of his fury under my palm.
“Max,” I whispered, steady and soft. “It’s not worth it.”
He looked down at me, chest heaving. His breath was ragged, like he was trying to cage some volcanic rage. In his eyes, I saw everything: heartbreak, desperate desire, and this fierce, aching tenderness that was mine alone. It disarmed me a bit.
Around us, the counselors had stopped, frozen like statues, watching the storm happen.
“Boys, enough!” Graham’s voice cut through the tension.
Max ran a hand over his face, shoving the rage down with a shaky exhale. Slowly, reluctantly, he raised his hands in surrender, and the golden boy was back with his aloof crooked grin.
Jackson’s smirk twisted into something colder, more sinister.
“Good luck with her,” he hissed as he turned away. “You have no idea where she came from, who she comes from.”
His words hung like a dark curse as he disappeared into the crowd.
I stood frozen. Jackson’s words were crawling under my skin. What did he mean?
You have no idea where she came from, who she comes from.
The repetition echoed, warped, sinking its teeth in. Panic started to rise in my chest. My thoughts scattered. Did Jackson know about me? Did he know about my dad?
“Max…” I whispered, desperate, the panic overtaking my entire being.
He didn’t look at me. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed somewhere far past the tree line.
“Max. Please. Look at me.”
His head snapped up. Eyes sharp.
“I fucking hate him.”
I grabbed his elbow, not even glancing at Heather who watched us like a vulture. I pulled Max into the woods until the shadows swallowed us. He immediately grabbed my hand as we walked further into the dark.
Once the trees hid us, I turned, facing him head-on.
“I know. He’s a bastard,” I breathed. “But I’m not fragile. I don’t need you fighting my battles.”
I didn’t want him to get hurt. But I also didn’t know what to do if he found out the truth.
“You shouldn’t have to do this alone, Trouble. He acts like you’re his. I don’t like it.” The raw intensity in his voice made me hesitate. He ran a hand through his hair; that part of him that was slowly clawing out was trapped again.
“Max, I—”
“You matter,” he cut me off, rushing his words.
“You’ve always mattered. And I swear, every time he touches you, talks about you, I want to rip his hands off.
” He sighed in frustration but kept going, stammering, fidgeting as if he was about to burst out of his skin.
“These are new feelings for me, and I don’t know how to control myself.
I want him to see there’s not a single part of you he can claim anymore. ”
His honesty hit me hard.
Jackson’s words lingered. His reminders of where I came from, who I was, seeped into my mind like a shadow of dread. That doubt slithered beneath my skin, gnawing at my nerves, as an icy dread took hold. In my head, I almost heard Agent West’s voice echoing, ‘Get rid of him.’
An unsettling chill ran through me as I scanned the dark, twisting edges of the woods. I could feel my father’s eyes burning into my back, watching, waiting. Was I being watched now?
My gaze flicked to Max. A reckless, impossible thought coiled within me: we had to play Jackson’s game.
In his twisted game, he believed he was king.
I needed to crush him with a true opponent, and that opponent’s gaze was locked on me—fists clenched tight, eyes burning with a darkness I’d never seen before, as if something evil had awakened within him.
I was noticing cracks in his armor. The strong, dangerous Max—the one struggling to break free—was about to emerge. There was a shadow within him I hadn’t met, yet he was still the only person who made me feel truly safe. I trusted him with my life.
“So, how do we win?” I asked, nerves buzzing.
Max blinked. “Win?”