Chapter 15 Aurora
AURORA
Icount the drips. One. Two. Three. Somewhere in this dank cell, water collects and falls, marking time like a broken metronome. Twelve days. I’ve been held captive for twelve days.
After I attacked Jax, they drugged us both. I remember the needle, the burn as something cold spread through my veins, and then nothing. When I woke up, Olivia was gone.
This new place is different. Colder. The walls sweat, and the air feels heavy in my lungs. Underground, I think. I can hear water—not just the dripping, but something larger. A river, maybe, or the ocean. The sound ebbs and flows, a constant reminder of a world I can no longer reach.
My cell is smaller than before. A metal cot with a thin mattress. A bucket in the corner. No windows. The light comes from a single bulb behind a wire cage, flickering occasionally as if it might give up at any moment.
I haven’t seen Jax since he told me about my father. About Hunter. The guards who bring food don’t speak, don’t look at me. I’ve become a ghost to them, something less than human.
“Where’s my sister?” I asked the first time the slot opened, and a tray appeared. Silence. “Where am I?” Nothing. “What do you want from me?” The slot closed.
Since then, I’ve stopped asking.
I worry Hunter will never find me now. If Jax had moved us to throw him off, it would have worked. And even if Hunter does find me... would I want him to? The man who watched my father die and never told me.
I wrap my arms around myself, try to generate warmth. My body feels distant, disconnected. I’ve retreated so far inside myself that physical discomfort barely registers anymore.
The worst part is being separated from Olivia. Whatever happened between her and Jax, whatever complicated mess that was, she’s still my sister. And now I don’t even know if she’s alive.
The door scrapes open. I don’t bother looking up until his shadow falls across the floor.
“Aurora.” Jax’s voice is softer than before. Almost gentle. “I brought you something to eat that isn’t prison slop.”
He sets a paper bag on the edge of my cot. I ignore it. The smell of real food makes my stomach clench, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“Where’s my sister?” I ask, finally meeting his eyes.
His face changes, softens. “Somewhere safe. Somewhere... better than this.”
“If you’ve hurt her—”
“Hurt her?” He laughs, pulling up the metal chair across from my cot. “Olivia is extraordinary. I wouldn’t damage something so... precious.”
The way he says her name makes my skin crawl.
“You know,” he continues, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, “your father was a lot like Hunter. Brilliant, ambitious.”
“You pushed him off that cliff.”
“I protected my position in the Vipers.” His eyes go distant, reminiscing. “The Vipers needed leadership, direction. Your father wanted to join and lead.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to lead.”
“So, you murdered him.”
“I eliminated a threat. Just like I’m doing with Hunter.” He stands, paces the small room. “Men like them don’t understand what it takes to create something that lasts.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m pragmatic. I’ve spent years protecting the Vipers.” His voice rises with conviction. “Every decision, every sacrifice—even this—it’s all necessary.”
“You’re not a hero, Jax. You’re a monster.”
He smiles, genuinely amused. “We’re all monsters, Aurora. Some of us just admit it.” His expression shifts again. “Your sister understands. Olivia sees the truth in me. The power.”
My hands clench into fists. “If you touch her again, I swear I’ll kill you myself.”
“Olivia comes to me willingly. She’s... magnificent in her surrender.”
I lunge at him. “You better not hurt her, or I promise you’ll never see it coming.”
Jax just smiles. “So much like your father. So naive.”
I stare at Jax as he continues his twisted monologue, and clarity washes over me like ice water. This isn’t just paranoia—it’s complete delusion. His eyes shine with messianic fervor. He genuinely believes he’s the hero of this story.
“The Vipers needed protection,” he continues, voice rising with conviction. “Every move I’ve made—eliminating threats, securing our position—it’s all been for the greater good.”
In his mind, he’s rewritten the murder of my father into an act of noble defense. Pushed a man off a cliff and called it salvation. The realization makes my blood run cold.
“You’re not protecting anything,” I say flatly. “You’re afraid someone might take your power.”
His expression hardens. “You don’t understand what I’ve built.”
“I understand perfectly. You’re a killer who can’t stand competition.”
His eyes darken. The gentleness from moments ago evaporates, as if it never existed. “I thought you might be different. More like your sister. More... receptive to the truth.”
“The truth?” I laugh. “You wouldn’t recognize truth if it pushed you off a cliff.”
His jaw tightens. “I’ve been patient with you, Aurora. Too patient.” He pulls something from his pocket—a small tablet. The screen glows blue in the dim cell.
Jax turns the tablet toward me, his expression triumphant. “You think Hunter is so different from me? That he’s coming to rescue you? Your white knight?”
The screen shows security footage of the cliff—my father’s cliff. The same rocky ledge where Hunter pulled me back that day. My stomach twists with dread.
“What is this?” I whisper.
“Watch.”
Two figures appear on the cliff. One is unmistakably Hunter. The other man I don’t recognize—middle-aged, wearing an expensive suit.
“This was four years ago,” Jax says quietly.
Hunter moves closer to the man, backing him toward the edge. The stranger’s hands are up, placating, his mouth moving rapidly. Pleading. Hunter’s face is cold, expressionless. Nothing like the man I thought I knew.
“No,” I breathe. “He wouldn’t—”
But he does.
In one swift motion, Hunter lunges forward and shoves the man. There’s no hesitation, no struggle. Just a calculatedly violent push, and the stranger disappears over the edge.
Hunter doesn’t even look down. He straightens his jacket and walks away.
I can’t breathe. The room spins around me as I stare at the empty cliff edge where a man just died. Where my father died.
“Who was he?” I manage to ask, my voice barely audible.
“Does it matter?” Jax’s voice sounds distant through the roaring in my ears. “You see it now, don’t you? Hunter is exactly like me. We do what’s necessary.”
The footage loops, playing again. Hunter and the stranger on the cliff. The argument. The push. The casual walk away. Each time it feels like another blow to my chest.
“He saved me there,” I whisper. “He pulled me back.”
Jax laughs softly. “Did he? Or did he recognize the perfect opportunity to manipulate you?”
My mind reels, questioning everything. Every touch. Every promise. Every moment I thought was real.
Is it possible that the man I’ve fallen for is a monster like Jax?