31. Aliyah
ALIYAH
The leather seat creaks as I shift for the hundredth time, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Street lights flash across the windshield of the black SUV, casting strange shadows across Jax's face.
His grip on the steering wheel is relaxed, but I catch him checking the rearview mirror every few seconds.
"You need to breathe." Jax's gravelly voice breaks through the silence. "Jackson will have my head if you pass out before we get there."
Jax works for Blade down at the docks, and his whole crew is helping us tonight. A few days after the car accident, Jackson told me his plan, and while I'm scared shitless, I also think it will work.
I twist the diamond tennis bracelet around my wrist, finding comfort in the familiar weight. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one they're after."
"No." Jax's eyes cut up to meet mine in the rearview. "But I've been hunted plenty of times."
A motorcycle roars past us and I jump, my hand flying to my throat to grab my necklace. Even though I swore I was fine, being in a car again has me shaking.
"Blade's got eyes on every corner," Jax says, taking a turn that leads us deeper into the industrial district. "And Jackson's got twice as many. Even if you can't see them, they are there. Nothing's getting through tonight."
"That's what worries me." I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window. "Too many players, too many things that could go wrong."
"Trust the boss." Jax's voice softens, just barely. "He's never let any of us down before."
I suck in deep breaths and nod. It's not that I don't trust Jackson or even Blade. I'm just… on edge.
I flash him a wavering smile. "I'm not normally like this, you know. I'm usually much better at-" I wave my hand around. "Planning things out and executing them."
He gives me a wry smile. "I get it. It should be a few minutes," Jax says as he makes a turn. "You ready?"
I'm not. God, I'm not. But I nod anyway, because what choice do I have? Jackson's waiting, and this ends tonight - one way or another.
All too soon, I'm out of options. The SUV's headlights catch a flash of black paint moments before a sedan cuts across our path.
Jax slams the brakes, throwing me against the seatbelt.
My chest constricts as memories of twisted metal and shattered glass flood back.
But we have to make it look like we were caught off guard.
"Don't." Jax's command anchors me as I start to hyperventilate. The leather creaks under his shifting grip on the wheel.
Tires screech behind us. Through the side mirror, I spot another vehicle boxing us in - a dark SUV identical to ours. My hands shake as I grip the door handle, knuckles white. The last time they had me trapped like this, I ended up in the hospital with bruised ribs and a concussion.
But this is the plan. And I told Jackson I could handle it.
The engines of both vehicles idle, their exhaust mixing with the fog rolling in off the East River. No doors open. No movement. Just the predatory stillness of waiting.
I force myself to breathe through my nose, counting the seconds like Jackson taught me. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. The diamond bracelet digs into my wrist as I twist it, seeking comfort in the familiar motion.
"No one is getting to you, Aliyah." Jax's voice stays steady, but his jaw clenches. His eyes never stop moving, scanning every shadow, every potential angle of attack.
A bead of sweat trails down my spine. The air feels too thick, too close. My pulse pounds in my ears as I remember the crunch of metal, the taste of blood. The way Jackson's face had looked when he found me in that wreck - like he wanted to burn the whole city down.
The matte black pistol appears in Jax's hand like magic, the metal catching the dim streetlight. "You're fine. We knew they'd try this."
Car doors slam in front and behind us. Dark figures emerge from the shadows, their movements precise and coordinated. My breath catches as I spot the glint of weapons.
But before they can reach our SUV, motorcycles roar out of the fog. Leather jackets materialize from the mist like wraiths. Those are Blade's guys, making sure they don't get anywhere near me.
Through the windshield, I watch his men tackle the first attacker. The guy goes down hard on the wet asphalt. Another tries to run but catches a boot to the back of his knee. The crack of bone echoes off brick walls.
"Told you Blade had eyes everywhere." Jax's lips curl into a dangerous smile as he watches the takedown through the rearview.
Behind us, two more of Blade's crew slam a guy face-first into the hood of the other SUV. Blood sprays across black paint. The last attacker raises his hands in surrender, but another of Blade's guys is already there. His fist connects with the guy's jaw, dropping him like a stone.
"Jesus." The word slips out as I watch him methodically zip-tie their hands. He moves with casual efficiency, like this is just another Tuesday night.
The adrenaline slowly bleeds from my system when I see that they've all been handled, leaving me shaky but alive. Five minutes ago these men wanted to grab me. Now they're being loaded into one of Blade's vans like cargo.
"See?" Jax's voice carries a hint of amusement. "Told you you were fine."
The tension bleeds from my shoulders as Blade's men drag the would-be attackers into their van. Two of his crew slip into the vehicles that tried to trap us, engines purring to life.
"Let's move." Jax pulls away from the curb, following the convoy as it winds through empty streets toward the docks.
A bike roars past, leather jacket snapping in the wind. The rider takes point, leading us deeper into the industrial maze of warehouses and shipping containers. The fog grows thicker here, rolling off the East River in ghostly waves.
"You good?" Jax's dark eyes flick to me before returning to the road.
"Define good." I straighten my spine, forcing steel into my voice. Jackson would expect nothing less. "I'm not falling apart, if that's what you're asking."
A grunt of approval. "You're tougher than you look."
"Story of my life." The words come out bitter. Everyone underestimates me - it's how I've survived this long. But sometimes I wonder if Jackson sees right through the act.
The convoy takes another turn, this time onto a narrow road that runs parallel to the water. Massive cranes loom overhead like sleeping giants. Their shadows stretch across empty loading docks and stacks of containers.
The biker in front signals a turn up ahead, his bike weaving between puddles that reflect neon from distant security lights. The fog swallows him for a moment before he emerges, brake lights glowing red through the mist.
My heart kicks against my ribs as we follow. Somewhere ahead, Jackson waits. The man who grabbed me from that hotel, who's kept me locked in his house for weeks "for my protection." The man whose touch burns like ice and whose rare smiles cut like knives.
Who loves me and wants to protect me.
The only man I've ever let in.
"Almost there." Jax's voice drops lower, all business now. His shoulders tense as we pass between two warehouses, the passage barely wide enough for the SUV.
The fog parts just enough to reveal a clearing ahead - a pocket of empty space carved out between buildings and shipping containers. Perfect sight lines. Multiple escape routes. The kind of place Jackson would choose.
My pulse quickens. We're getting close now, and there's no turning back.