Page 151 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

Holden's eyebrows lift, but his expression stays neutral. "What kind of papers?"

"Birth certificate, social security, passport. The works." My voice drops low, steady. No room for negotiation. "Miranda Knight needs to exist on paper, not just in some government database."

Not asking permission. Claiming her future.

He slides his phone into his jacket pocket, giving me his full attention. "That's a federal crime, Jax. Identity fraud carries serious time."

"So does human trafficking, but that didn't stop us from burning down Alexei's network." [this analogy makes no sense]

Holden studies my face, those calculating eyes taking in details I probably don't even know I'm showing. My clenched jaw. The way I'm standing too close. The fact that I haven't moved from blocking his path.

He's reading me like a tactical manual. Good. Let him see exactly how serious this is.

"Already done."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My chest expands, air flooding my lungs for the first time in hours.

"What?"

"Miranda Knight exists. Born in Portland, Oregon. Parents died in a car accident when she was twenty-two. No living relatives." He pulls out a manila envelope from inside his jacket. "Driver's license, passport, even a credit history. She's been freelance consulting in art authentication for the past seven years."

I take the envelope, feeling the weight of official documents through the paper. Real papers. A real life.

She can disappear into this identity if everything goes wrong. Start over.

"Social security number?"

"Active since her eighteenth birthday. She's even paid taxes."

My hands shake slightly as I hold her new existence. Not tremors—adrenaline. Pure protective instinct finally having somewhere to go.

She doesn't have to be Miroslava Sokolov anymore. The girl who watched her parents die can stay buried.

"Good." I meet his eyes directly, letting him see everything I'm feeling. The possessiveness. The desperation. The absolute certainty that I'll burn the world down before I let anything happen to her. "Now she has something to lose."

Holden nods slowly. "You're not asking for permission."

"No." I slide the envelope inside my jacket, feeling it settle against my ribs like armor. "I'm telling you how it's going to be."

The trunk slams shut behind us, and Mira's footsteps approach on the concrete.

"Jax—"

Her voice carries that note of warning that means I'm about to cross one of her lines. Too bad. I'm done respecting boundaries when it comes to keeping her breathing.

I step forward, backing her against the sedan's warm metal. My hand finds the base of her skull, fingers threading through those dark strands that always smell like vanilla and danger.

She's mine. Petrov just doesn't know he's already dead.

"You have forty-eight hours before I come for you."

Her eyes flash with something between irritation and heat. She pushes against my chest, but not hard enough to actually move me. Testing my resolve maybe, or just reminding me she could put me on the ground if she wanted.

"Jax—"

"Forty-eight hours, Mira. Then I burn down London to find you."

The words come out rougher than I intended. Raw. Desperate. But I need her to understand that this isn't some dramatic gesture. This is a promise carved in stone.