Page 134 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

"Get a room," Cole says flatly, but there's the tiniest curve to his mouth. "After the interrogation."

"Speaking of," Remy checks his tactical watch. "Eighteen minutes. Medical, brief, then we find out exactly how deep this betrayal goes."

As we move toward the medical station, Jax's hand finds mine again. His fingers still tremble against my palm, but there's strength there too. The kind that comes from facing your worst fear and surviving.

"Hey," he says quietly while Remy treats his knuckles. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not letting me fall apart. For being my anchor when everything went sideways. For—" He stops, searching for words. "For making me brave enough to get on that bike."

The confession hits somewhere deep. Somewhere I thought Mikhail had killed years ago.

"You made yourself brave," I correct, but my voice betrays me with softness.

"No." His certainty surprises me. "I was brave because losing you scared me more than any motorcycle ever could."

Damn him. Damn him for making me feel things when I need to be sharp.

"Save the poetry for after we break Gideon," I manage, but I squeeze his hand.

His grin flashes—still nervous energy, still slightly manic, but underneath is something new. Something dangerous and protective and mine.

"Deal. But after?" His voice drops low enough that only I can hear. "After, I'm going to show you exactly what conquering that fear means. What you mean."

Heat floods through me despite exhaustion, despite grief for our fallen team, despite everything.

"Promises, promises," I breathe.

"Facts." He stands as Remy finishes bandaging his hand. "I rode through hell for you today. Gideon's just the next demon to face."

The warehouse suddenly feels too small for what's building between us. Cole's knowing look suggests he sees it too.

"Five minutes to interrogation," he announces. "Whatever this is"—he gestures between us—"channel it into breaking Gideon. We need him to give us everything."

Jax's expression hardens with purpose. The trembling stops. In its place stands someone I'm only beginning to know—the operator Roman saw potential in, just with all his walls torn down.

"He'll talk," Jax says with quiet certainty. "He owes me that much truth after thirteen years of lies."

I study this new version of him—dangerous and vulnerable, competent and shattered, mine and his own.

This is what love looks like on him. It's devastating.

"Ready?" I ask.

"With you?" He offers his bandaged hand. "Always."

We walk toward interrogation, and I can feel Jax's energy shifting—the manic edge crystallizing into something deadly.

Cole opens the door, revealing Gideon zip-tied to a metal chair, blood trickling from his temple. When he sees Jax, hissplit lips curve into that same proud smile from thirteen years ago.

"There's my star student." His voice carries paternal warmth that makes bile rise in my throat. "Finally back on a bike. Tommy would be proud."

The name hits like a slap. Jax's whole body goes rigid, his bandaged hand clenching into a fist.

"Careful," Gideon continues, eyes shifting to me with interest. "That one's killed more men than you've had hot dinners. But you already know that, don't you?" He leans forward as much as the restraints allow, studying my face. "The question is—does she know what you're really capable of?"

"Shut up," Jax says quietly. Too quietly.