Chapter 8

The next day was the anniversary of my father' s death. I went to the cemetery early, a bouquet of his favorite white lilies in my hand. The sky was a bleak, unforgiving gray.

"Hi, Dad," I whispered, tracing the cold stone of his headstone. "I' m okay. I' m all better now." Tears streamed down my face, hot against my cold skin. "I' m leaving tomorrow. I don' t know when I' ll be back to visit, but I promise... I' ll live a good life. I' ll make you proud."

I remembered the last time I was here, with Jaxon. He had stood beside me, his arm a comforting weight around my shoulders. He had promised my father he would take care of me, that he would always be on my side. He promised we would have kids, a boy and a girl, and we would bring them here to meet their grandfather.

Every promise, a lie. Every memory, a ghost.

I stayed until the sky turned dark, until the last of the light had faded. As I was waiting for a cab at the cemetery gates, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind. A cloth reeking of chloroform was pressed against my face. My last thought before the world went black was Jaxon' s cold, furious face.

I woke up in a burlap sack, the rough fabric scratching my skin. I was being thrown around, tossed like a bag of trash. I struggled, and a vicious kick to my ribs knocked the wind out of me.

Finally, I was dragged out onto what felt like a grassy field. The sack was ripped from my head. Jaxon stood before me, flanked by two of his menacing security guards. Krystal was there too, clinging to his arm, her face a mask of terror.

"Jaxon, please," she whimpered. "Maybe they didn' t mean it. Let' s just let them go."

Jaxon let out a cold, humorless laugh. "No. No one hurts you and gets away with it. People need to know what happens when they cross Krystal Gomez." He gestured to his men. "Tie them to the helicopter."

My blood ran cold. Them? I was the only one here.

It was a setup. Krystal had faked her own kidnapping and framed me. And Jaxon, my brilliant, powerful Jaxon, had fallen for it completely. He thought I was one of her kidnappers. He was going to torture me.

"Jaxon, no!" I screamed, but my voice was muffled by the gag they shoved in my mouth.

They tied me to a long rope attached to the helicopter. Krystal feigned a gasp. "Jaxon, darling, isn' t this a bit much? What if you kill them?"

"Don' t worry," he said, his voice smooth as ice. "I know what I' m doing. We' re just going to fly a kite."

The helicopter lifted off the ground. The rope went taut, dragging me across the rough field. My skin was ripped to shreds by rocks and gravel. Then the helicopter ascended, lifting me into the air, only to drop me again. Over and over. My body was a rag doll, slammed against the earth until every inch of me was a screaming canvas of pain. My bones cracked. I was sure I was dying.

The burlap sack was soaked in my blood. Through a tear in the fabric, I could see them. Jaxon had his arm around Krystal, pointing at me as I was dragged through the air, a broken kite against the dark sky.

The pain was so immense it became a distant, roaring sound. My soul seemed to detach from my broken body. I felt the final, brutal impact as they cut the rope and I plummeted to the ground. Then, nothing.

Just before I lost consciousness, the sack fell away from my face. I saw Jaxon and Krystal walking away, his arm still wrapped around her waist.

I managed a faint whisper, my own name a curse on my lips. "Jaxon..."

I laughed, a broken, gurgling sound as blood filled my mouth. So this was his love. This was his protection. He could be just as crazy, just as obsessive, as I had once been.

Only his obsession was for her.

I wondered, in the last moments of my awareness, if he would ever regret this. If he would ever know the truth.