He sat slumped against the cracked wall of what had once been their garage, his gaze fixed on nothing—empty, hollow, broken. His good hand hung limp at his side, fingers twitching as if searching for a cigarette that wasn’t there. His jaw was clenched, but his eyes… his eyes were glass.
Priest crouched beside him, gripping his shoulder. “Jax. Brother. Look at me.”
Nothing.
“Don’t you give me that thousand-yard stare, not tonight. I need you breathing, I need you fighting. You hear me?” Priest’s voice cracked, raw with fury and grief. “Gabriel wants this. He wants you dead inside before he kills you on the outside. Don’t you hand him the victory.”
For a flicker, Jax’s eyes shifted, focusing on Priest. His lips parted, his voice hoarse and broken:
“She looked me in the eyes… and pulled
