Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ava
Get it together, Ava, I tell myself. Fucking fight back.
Twisting my body hard, I abruptly throw my weight sideways, and I feel the guy’s grip on me loosen.
It’s just enough. I rip one arm free, then the other, clawing at the fabric that’s bunched around my face.
My nails catch and tear until the heavy material gives way.
A rush of air hits me, sharp and cold. I gasp, dragging it into my lungs like I’ve been drowning.
But the relief is short-lived, because suddenly, the second, shorter guy materializes from behind the first guy, and both are now moving toward me. My heart stops. There’s no way I can fight two of them.
But before either one of them can get to me, a blur of motion slams into the shorter guy from behind, someone tackling him hard enough that they both crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
“Back the fuck off!”
It’s Ember, wild-eyed and furious, her fists already flying.
The taller guy freezes for a split second, and I use it to scan for something—anything—I can use as a weapon. My gaze lands on the metal lamp on the nightstand. It’s heavy, pricey, and solid enough to do some real damage.
I reach for it and yank hard, ripping the cord free from the wall.
The tall one is coming at me, and I don’t even think; I just move.
I swing the lamp like a baseball bat, putting every ounce of fear and anger behind it.
But he sees it coming and catches it in his fist, mid-swing, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“He said you were a spitfire.” His laugh is low, ugly.
He rips the lamp out of my hand. “I guess he wasn’t exaggerating. ”
My eyes dart to Ember. She’s still grappling with the shorter guy, her fists flying, but she’s losing ground. He’s stronger, heavier, and she’s already slowing down.
Tall Guy drops the lamp with a thud, drawing my attention back to him, and he takes a step toward me. I back up, but the bed is behind me.
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, sickening thwack.
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, meaty thud, 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’m turned on by 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’s they?” Christian asks.
Jackson’s voice is tight. “No fucking clue.”
“Do we know what they were after?” Lucas asks.
“Ava, obviously,” Jackson says, sending a ripple of fear down my spine. “They came straight to this room after breaking in.”
Lucas rakes a hand down his face. “I’m going to state the obvious here, but this was clearly Shadow and Ash.”
Christian throws a sharp look at his brother. “You don’t know that. We have a million-fucking-enemies. This could have been anyone.”
Lucas’s shoulders tighten, and he’s on his brother in two quick strides, jaw clenched. “Bullshit. You and I both know this is about that cunt currently rotting in our basement. Everything leads back to him.”
Okay, now I finally understand why Eve and Wyn have been so desperate to fix this rift between the twins. The tension between them is thick, and watching them argue is like watching a bomb ticking down, ready to blow.
Christian doesn’t back down. He pushes up on his brother. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I don’t?” Lucas says, his voice deathly calm, the promise of violence simmering just beneath the surface.
“You’re fucking Sin’s sister. We’ve got him locked in our basement.
And now, out of nowhere, armed men break into this house and go straight for Jackson’s wife?
” He releases a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, you’re right. No connection there at all.”
Christian lunges first, swinging a heavy fist toward Lucas’s jaw. Lucas ducks, just barely, and Christian’s punch smashes into the wall behind him, cracking the plaster.
Christian spins, targeting Lucas again, but Lucas manages to sidestep and grab Christian’s arm, twisting it behind his back. Gritting his teeth, Christian jerks his head back and head-butts Lucas, causing him to stagger back and break his hold.
Before the brothers can do any real damage, Jackson untangles himself from me and steps between the twins, a fist pressed to each of their chests.
“You both need to chill the fuck out,” he growls in warning.
“Someone broke into our house, and we need to figure out who. We can’t do that if we’re at each other’s throats. ”
With a disgusted scoff, Lucas takes a step back. “We should’ve slit Sin’s throat and dumped him in the ocean weeks ago. But no, we had to spare him for Eve’s sake. Now Shadow and Ash are coming for our women.”
Eve. The girl with the dog I met in the kitchen. The same girl who snuck down to the basement and asked me not to tell anyone. Sin is her brother? Holy shit.
“It wasn’t Shadow and Ash,” Ember’s voice cuts in, and everyone turns to look at her.
“Em—” Jackson starts, his tone patronizing and dismissive.
She appears in front of us, arms crossed over her chest. “It wasn’t.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Jackson’s voice is sharp, suspicious.
Ember clamps her mouth shut and glares at her brother. “I just know.”
I can feel the tension practically radiating off Jackson, and I’m sure he’s wondering why she’s so confident it wasn’t Shadow and Ash.
In the end, I guess he doesn’t want to get into it here, because he says, “We’ll talk about this later.” Then he turns to the twins with a pointed look. “Check if Vaughn can dig up anything on the dead one. Then see if Cash’ll take him. His grandparents’ funeral parlor has an incinerator.”
Christian lifts a brow. “He’ll expect a favor in return.”
Jackson pushes out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I know.”
There’s a brief hesitation, an exchange of glances between the twins, before they throw each other dirty looks and slip out of the room without argument.
Ember’s empathetic gaze lands on me. “God, Ava. Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I say, my voice a bit shaky. “Thank you for coming in when you did. If you hadn’t—”
She waves her hand, stopping me. “You were a badass with that lamp,” she says with genuine admiration in her voice.
“I’m just sorry I didn’t get here faster.
I heard something, but I thought—” She glances at Jackson, frustration flickering across her face.
“I thought it was society shit I was supposed to stay out of.”
“I’m glad you were here,” Jackson says to his sister, but the words are strained, like it cost him something to admit it. He flicks his chin toward the hall. “Now, back to your room while we get this cleaned up.”
Em rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath, but Jackson’s voice hardens before she can move.
“And, Ember—one question before you go.”
She pauses, wary. “What?”
He studies her for a long moment, eyes narrowing. “I heard you’ve been visiting Sin in the basement. That true?”
Her mouth opens, then shuts. “I—I just talked to him once or twice. He’s locked up down there like an animal, Jackson. Someone should—”
Jackson’s voice drops low enough to make the air feel heavier. “You didn’t answer my question. Do those visits have anything to do with the attack that just happened?”
Her eyes widen. “What? No. Of course not. You think I’d—”
“I don’t know what to think,” he says, cutting her off. “But I’m telling you now, stay the fuck away from him. He’s dangerous, Em. There are rumors about what he’s into—real sick shit. He likes to share his women with his buddies.”
Em’s throat works as she swallows. “I was bored. It won’t happen again.”
“Good,” Jackson says, but his gaze lingers on her face like he’s still not convinced.
She forces a brittle smile and waves him off. “You worry too much.”
But there’s something in her expression, a flicker of hesitation she can’t quite hide, a question she doesn’t want him to see.
Jackson’s jaw tightens. “I mean it, Ember.”
She mumbles something about being “treated like a child” and finally walks out. The door clicks shut behind her. Now it’s just the three of us—just Jackson, me, and the dead guy on the floor.
Jackson gathers me up, steps around the body, and carries me to the bathroom.
“I can walk,” I tell him.
“You’re in shock,” he says, kicking the bathroom door shut. “Just…let me take care of you.”