Chapter 14 Aurora
AURORA
I’ve lost track of time in this concrete hell.
The cell door slides open. I don’t even bother looking up anymore.
“Good morning, Aurora.” Jax’s voice carries that same smugness it always does. “I thought we might have a chat today. Just you and me.”
I stay curled on my cot, refusing to acknowledge him.
“I brought something I think you’ll find interesting.” The scrape of a chair across concrete. “About your father.”
My head snaps up involuntarily.
Jax grins. “Finally got your attention.” He holds up a tablet. “Did you know there were security cameras at your father’s cliff house? The footage was archived in our system.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your daddy’s suicide.” He spits the last word. “That’s what everyone believes happened, right? Poor little Aurora’s father jumped off a cliff.”
My throat tightens. “Don’t.”
Jax turns the tablet toward me. “But what if I told you that it wasn’t suicide at all?”
The screen shows grainy security footage. Date stamp: twelve years ago. I recognize the cliff edge behind my father’s house.
My father stands at the precipice, his back to the camera. Another figure approaches—younger, but I’m sure it’s Jax.
“No,” I whisper.
They appear to argue. Then Jax lunges forward, shoving my father hard. My father’s arms windmill as he tries to catch his balance, but he falls backward.
Out of sight. Off the cliff.
Jax turns to the camera and smiles.
And then I see men running toward him, and it cuts off.
I can’t breathe. My entire body trembles as twelve years of grief transform into something darker, more volatile.
“It was him or me,” Jax says, casual as if discussing the weather. “My initiation into the Vipers.”
Tears stream down my face as I stare at the frozen image of Jax’s triumphant smile.
“You murdered him,” I whisper.
“I liberated him,” Jax corrects. “And now you understand what kind of man you’re dealing with.”
The footage plays again. This time with sound.
“Please, Jax. I have a family. Daughter.” My father’s voice—God, his voice—something I’d started to forget. “We can work together in the Vipers. There’s room for both—”
“There’s only room for one of us,” Jax cuts him off. “And I beat you to the punch.”
My father stumbles backward as Jax advances. “My daughter—”
“Should’ve thought about them before trying to join our ranks.” Jax’s face remains expressionless as he closes the distance. “The position is mine now.”
“Don’t do this—”
The rest happens in sickening slow motion. My father struggles against Jax’s grip, his desperate pleas filling the room. Then the final push. The moment of suspension. The horrifying disappearance from frame.
All while Jax watches, his face a mask of cold indifference—the exact same expression he’s wearing now as he observes my breakdown.
Twelve years of guilt crash down around me. The therapy. The anger. The question that haunted me since that day: why did he leave us? The way Mom withered away, drowning her grief until she met Derek.
All of it built on a lie.
“You destroyed my family.” My voice sounds foreign, distant. “My mother died believing he killed himself. I spent my entire life wondering why he would abandon us.”
“Collateral damage.” Jax shrugs. “Your father wanted into the Vipers. I needed the position more. Business is business.”
I think of the cliff edge where I stood that day Hunter found me. How I’d been trying to understand what would drive my father to jump. The guilt I carried, thinking I should have seen the signs, should have somehow saved him.
“I believed he jumped.” The words scrape my throat. “I was so angry with him—” I choke on a sob. “I thought he chose to leave us.”
“And now you know.” Jax closes the video. “He didn’t.”
Something inside me shatters. The careful walls I’ve built around my grief for twelve years dissolve into white-hot rage. My vision narrows to Jax’s smirking face—the face of the man who murdered my father, who destroyed my family, who’s been tormenting my sister.
I launch myself at him without thinking. My nails rake across his cheek, drawing blood before he can react. I’m screaming—raw, animal sounds I didn’t know I could make. My fists pound against his chest, his face, anywhere I can reach.
“You killed him! You murdered my father!”
Jax’s momentary surprise fades quickly. He catches my wrists in one fluid motion, his strength making my furious struggle meaningless. I kick at him, connecting with his shin, but he barely flinches.
“There she is,” he says, almost admiringly. “That fire I’ve heard so much about.”
I spit in his face. The glob lands on his cheek, mixing with the blood from my scratches. His expression darkens for just a moment before returning to that calculated calm.
In one swift movement, he spins me around, pulling my back against his chest. His arm wraps around my throat—not choking, just restraining. I writhe against him, but it’s like fighting against steel cables.
“Careful now,” he murmurs into my ear. “We wouldn’t want to waste all that beautiful rage.”
I’m still struggling, tears streaming down my face, when he delivers the final blow.
His lips brush my ear as he whispers, “Hunter knew. He’s known ever since. He was there. And he never told you.”
My body goes limp in his grip. The words hit harder than any physical blow could.
“What?” My voice is barely audible.
“Your precious Hunter.” Jax’s voice is gentle now, almost kind. “He was there that day. A new Viper recruit who was watching his first execution. He’s known all along what really happened to Daddy.”
I go still in Jax’s grip, his words sucking all the fight from my body. Hunter knew. Hunter was there. Hunter watched my father die.
“That’s not true.” The words come out hollow, automatic.
Jax releases me, confident I’m no longer a threat. I stagger forward, falling to my knees on the concrete.
“It is true.” His voice carries a false sympathy that makes my stomach turn. “Your lover boy was being initiated that day, too. Watched the whole thing. Never said a word to you, did he?”
The room spins around me. I press my palms against the cold floor, trying to ground myself, but I’m falling, drowning, disappearing into a void where nothing makes sense anymore.
Hunter’s face appears in my mind. His intensity when he pulled me from that same cliff edge. The way he looked at me that first time. All this time, he knew.
Every touch. Every kiss. Every whispered promise.
Something inside me goes quiet. The rage, the grief, the betrayal—they’re still there, but distant now, like they belong to someone else. I feel myself retreating deeper inside to a dark, cold place where nothing can touch me.
I rise to my feet, my movements mechanical. When I meet Jax’s eyes, I see a flicker of uncertainty. He expected tears, hysteria, more rage. Not this emptiness.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say. “I needed to know the truth.”
Jax studies me, his head tilted. “Interesting. Most people break when they learn something like this.”
“I’m already broken.” The words come from somewhere far away. “You can’t break what’s already shattered.”
I walk back to my cot and sit down with my hands folded in my lap. I feel nothing. Not pain, not fear, not even hate. Just a vast, expanding darkness where my heart used to be.
Jax watches me, fascinated by this transformation. He’s waiting for the crack in my composure, the moment when I collapse under the weight of this revelation.
But there’s nothing left to collapse. I’ve become a hollow vessel, filled only with shadows.