Page 38 of The Never List (Never List #1)

Rylee

T ears flow freely down my cheeks, my ability to hold them back crumbling every time I hear Jax’s voice inside my head demanding I get out .

Get away from him.

My heart begs me to go back, to fight for him, but I don’t want him to see me cry.

I’m not giving up, but I can only be told I’m not wanted so many times before I start to believe it.

I bump into a few people on my way across the gambling floor, swiping at the traitorous tears on my cheeks as I head toward the stairs.

The overwhelming sense of failure threatens to swallow me whole, the oily sensation slicking beneath my skin in a suffocating way. If I can’t solidify some connection with Jax, I’m going to lose them all. In the beginning, I didn’t think that would be as devastating as it is to me, but it is .

I reach the stairs, prepared to run all the way down and out the door, then allow myself to break down in the carriage Mirren no doubt will have waiting for me. If I can just make it—

A hand on my arm jerks me off the first step, dragging me back and shoving me against a wall.

“Well, if it isn’t Rylee fucking Gray,” Turner says as he glowers at me from where he holds me against the black brick.

Icy terror spears through my veins, stalling my breath.

Turner grabs my other arm, clenching so hard I yelp. “Where the fuck have you been?” His eyes rake over me, taking in my outfit, and his lip curls in a sneer. “Have you been working here the entire time?”

Clearly, he doesn’t read the royal post. That answers that question.

“Let me go,” I say, finally finding my voice. I push against him, trying to break his hold.

His grip intensifies, and he pushes me back against the wall again. “You have some nerve, blowing me off that night,” he says. “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? Don’t you know what I’ll do to you for disobeying me?”

Turner releases one arm, dragging his finger down my cheek, his eyes falling to my mouth.

I struggle again, hating that I can’t break his grasp—not without using my power.

If he holds me here much longer, I absolutely will.

He no longer has the same control over me, but he still knows one of my secrets. That alone makes me hesitate. My mind shifts from panic to strategy and back to panic again in the span of a blink.

His finger trails toward my mouth, and I cringe, turning my head. He grips my chin so hard it stings, forcing my face back to look at him. “You really are asking for it—”

“Get your hands off my mate.”

Jax’s voice is absolutely lethal as he grabs Turner and tosses him across the room like he’s nothing more than a piece of furniture standing in his way.

Turner lands atop one of the gambling tables and sends it crashing to the floor. All the patrons who’d been playing there scatter back, eyes wide on the scene.

Adrenaline makes my body shake, makes it tremble.

Jax steps in front of me, sliding his hands into his pockets like he’s prepared to talk civilly with Turner, who is scrambling to his feet. The second he notices who’s standing in front of him, he bows deeply before standing up straight again.

“Apologies, your highness,” Turner says, glancing from Jax to me and back again. “Did I hear you correctly?”

Jax tilts his head in his predatory way, sauntering up to him.

The crowd of gamblers has now formed a tight-knit audience around the scene, and I can’t help but be grateful that the Occuli aren’t here to witness this.

“What makes you think you’re allowed to touch what’s mine?” Jax asks, his tone low and icy.

Turner is shaking now, sweat popping from his brow. “How is she… I didn’t know—”

His words abruptly halt.

His body jerks against some invisible force that I can’t see. Eyes wide with terror, Turner blanches, and a low, wounded cry rips out of him.

I’ve never seen someone look so scared before.

And then the front of his pants grows darker. He’s pissing himself.

The onlookers gasp, and I, too, cover my mouth with my hand to stifle my shock.

Jax .

He’s doing this to him.

Jax takes a step back, shaking his head and tsking Turner, who stands there in a puddle of his own filth. “You should know better than to touch anyone in the way you were,” Jax says. “Especially what’s mine .” Jax glances over his shoulder at me, those indigo eyes hard as gemstones as he looks me over, seeing something on my face that makes him flinch. “Shall I kill him?” he asks me like he’s inquiring what I want to drink.

I hesitate, shocked by the blunt question, especially in front of so many people.

So many of his people.

I have no mercy in my heart for Turner—not after the way he’s threatened me, forced himself on me, and tortured me emotionally.

But Jax?

I have all sorts of feelings for Jax. The last thing I want is blood on his hands because of me.

I shake my head, and Jax turns back around to face Turner. “You should be on your knees thanking her,” he says. “She’s the only reason your heart is allowed to keep beating tonight. But just so you remember your place…” Jax tilts his head again.

Turner whimpers, another terror-laced cry escaping his lips, and the sound of his bowels releasing follows seconds after.

And then Jax is laughing. That cold, sardonic laugh that sends shivers along my skin. That quickly, Turner starts to laugh, too, like he can’t help himself.

Jax snaps his fingers, and Turner’s laughs die, the fear leaking out of his eyes and shifting to utter mortification.

The rest of the crowd follows the lead of their prince and laughs at the soiled, blubbering mess that is Turner.

His head jerks around, glaring at all the laughing onlookers before looking murderously at Jax for all of two seconds before he bows again. “Thank you, your highness,” he says through chattering teeth.

“Run,” Jax commands.

Turner races down the stairs like a wounded animal.

If he wasn’t such an evil piece of shit, I might have found it in my heart to feel pity for him. Sadistic asshole that he is, I feel nothing.

Nothing but confusion at Jax’s territorial display.

He stands with his back to me, his hands still in his pockets. Every instinct begs me to reach out for him, but the way he told me to get out keeps me frozen in place. Even as some people who work at Lust arrive to clean up the mess, the rest of the crowd’s laughter dying off as they get back to their gambling, I still don’t move.

Not until Jax turns around, still smiling coldly. His eyes snag on my cheeks, no doubt riddled with smeared makeup and the evidence of my tears.

“Jax—”

He spans the distance between us, interlacing our fingers and tugging me in the opposite direction, my heart in my throat as the Nightmare leads me away from the crowd.