CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Jax.
The sight of him sends white-hot rage blazing through my veins like wildfire.
Gone is the mentor I once worshipped, the savior I believed rescued me from darkness.
Now I see him for what he truly is—a murderer who orchestrated my family's massacre and spent years manipulating me into his perfect weapon.
"Aubrey," he says, his voice carrying that same warm tone he used when I was thirteen and broken. "I've been waiting for you."
His storm-gray eyes hold an expression I once would have mistaken for compassion. Now I recognize it for what it truly is—satisfaction. He's pleased that his plan worked, that I'm here exactly where he predicted I'd be.
"I know what you did," I say, my voice steady despite the fury coursing through me. "I remember everything. My father's death, my brother's screams, my mother's blood on your claws. You killed them all."
For a moment, something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe even approval. Then his expression shifts, becoming almost gentle.
"You remember," he says, and there's genuine wonder in his voice.
"Good. It's better this way, without the lies clouding your judgment.
" He takes a step closer, his hands raised in a gesture of peace.
"But you're here now, which means you understand the truth—they rejected you, cast you out despite everything you sacrificed for them.
Knox turned his back on you the moment things became difficult. "
The manipulation is so smooth, so practiced, that for a heartbeat I almost feel that familiar tug of doubt. Almost hear the voice in my head whispering that he's right, that I have nowhere else to go.
But then I remember Iris lying in my arms, her blood staining my hands as life faded from her eyes. I remember the tortured children, the white wolf that was my mother, the decades of calculated cruelty disguised as salvation.
"You're right about one thing," I say, meeting his gaze directly. "They did reject me. But that doesn't make you my savior—it makes you the monster who destroyed my family and manipulated me for years."
Jax's expression softens even further, his voice taking on that familiar paternal tone that once made me feel safe.
"Aubrey, my dear girl, I understand you're hurt and confused.
The memory recovery must be overwhelming.
But I'm willing to forgive everything—your betrayal, your defiance, your choice to side with them over me. "
The sheer hypocrisy of it makes my stomach churn with revulsion. This man who murdered my parents, who tortured innocent children, who turned me into a weapon against my own mate—and he's offering me forgiveness?
"All you have to do is acknowledge what you've always known," he continues, extending his hand toward me. "That you belong to me. That everything you are comes from what I made you. Submit to me willingly, and I'll give you a place at my side as we reshape this kingdom into something worthy."
I lock eyes with him, seeing that familiar expectation in his gaze—the absolute certainty that I'll break, that I'll crawl back to him like a beaten dog grateful for scraps of affection. For seven years, that look commanded my obedience, made me desperate to earn his approval.
Not anymore.
Without hesitation, I gather the saliva in my mouth and spit directly in his face.
The glob of spit hits his cheek with a wet sound that seems to echo in the sudden silence. Jax goes completely still, his expression freezing as he slowly wipes the moisture away with the back of his hand.
When he looks at me again, all pretense of gentleness has vanished. His eyes are cold as winter death, his mouth twisted into something that barely resembles a smile.
"Wrong choice," he says quietly.
Before I can react, agony explodes through every nerve ending in my body.
The Blood Oath—that cursed binding he forged when I was broken and desperate—activates with vicious intensity.
It feels like molten metal is being poured through my veins, like every bone is being shattered and reformed simultaneously.
I bite down hard on my tongue to keep from screaming, tasting blood as I force myself to remain standing. This pain is familiar—Jax has used it to discipline me before, to remind me of my place when I showed even the slightest hint of independence. But never with this level of brutality.
"The Blood Oath was made with your willing consent," he says conversationally, as if he's not torturing me with every word. "You begged me to bind you to my service, to give your pathetic existence meaning. It's unbreakable, carved into your very soul."
The agony intensifies until white spots dance at the edges of my vision. My knees buckle, and I have to lock them to keep from collapsing. Every instinct screams at me to submit, to end this torture by giving him what he wants.
Instead, I force myself to lift my chin and glare at him with every ounce of hatred I possess.
"Go to hell," I manage through gritted teeth.
Jax's eyes flash with something that might be surprise before hardening into arctic fury. The pain ramps up again, beyond anything I thought possible. It feels like I'm being flayed alive from the inside out, like invisible claws are tearing through my organs.
Still, I refuse to bow.
"You stubborn little bitch," he snarls, all pretense of control evaporating. "After everything I've given you, everything I've made you, you still choose defiance?"
I can't speak through the agony, can barely think coherently, but I manage to keep my eyes fixed on his face. Let him see that his torture hasn't broken me. Let him understand that I'd rather die than serve him again.
"You think you're being brave?" he continues, circling me like a predator. "You think this meaningless defiance makes you noble? You're nothing without me, Aubrey. Nothing but a broken little girl who watched her family die because she was too weak to save them."
The words are designed to shatter what's left of my will, to remind me of every failure and weakness. Once, they would have worked. Once, I would have crumbled under the weight of my own guilt and desperation.
But I'm not that thirteen-year-old girl anymore.
"I know what I am," I whisper, my voice barely audible but steady. "I'm someone who won't bow to a monster."
For the first time, real uncertainty flickers across Jax's face. This isn't going according to his plan. I'm supposed to be begging for mercy by now, promising to obey if he'll just make the pain stop.
Instead, I'm still standing. Still defiant. Still choosing to endure hell rather than submit to him.
"Last chance," he says, but there's less confidence in his voice now. "Kneel and acknowledge me as your master, or the pain will only get worse."
I think of Knox, of the look in his eyes when he realized I'd been lying to him. I think of Iris, dying in my arms because of my choices. I think of my parents, murdered by the man now demanding my loyalty.
And I think of the girl I used to be—brave and strong before Jax broke her, before he twisted her love into worship and her strength into servitude.
That girl deserves justice. She deserves to have someone fight for her.
"Never," I breathe.
The word hangs between us like a challenge thrown at his feet. Jax stares at me for a long moment, his face a mask of cold fury. Then the Blood Oath's power surges with renewed viciousness, pushing my body past its breaking point.
My vision goes black around the edges as every system in my body screams in protest. I feel myself swaying, feel consciousness slipping away like water through my fingers.