Chapter Fifty-Three
Jackson
Life doesn’t snap back. It creeps. Slow as hell.
Brooklyn’s moving better. Still gets tired fast. Still jumps at sudden noises. But she laughs sometimes, and it’s a real laugh. The kind that shakes her shoulders instead of the fake kind that sounds forced. She goes to counseling twice a week and PT every other day. I drive her. I pick her up. I stay close enough that she knows she can reach me if she needs to.
Home is quieter now. Not in a bad way. Just…softer, different.
Chas and Amelia come down sometimes. Amelia climbs on the couch like it’s a mountain and demands snacks and attention from everyone. Brooklyn beams at her like sunshine. I swear it heals something in the room every damn time.
My brothers still show up too much. Bos says he’s making sure we’re eating things besides instant noodles. Linc comes because he “likes the vibe.” Dal just looks at me like he’s waiting for me to crack.
I don’t. I won’t.
She’s here. That’s enough to keep my feet on the ground.
But peace never lasts. Not in my line of work.
By the third week of trying to be normal again, my phone rings at four in the morning.
I’m already awake. Bad dreams. The kind that have teeth.
I slide out of bed without waking Brooklyn. Grab my hoodie. Step into the hallway so the light doesn’t hit her.
"Morris?" I answer.
His voice is flat. Worn. "We’ve got another one."
My stomach drops. Hard. Like hitting concrete.
"Where?"
"County river access. North side. Bring your gear."
I stare at the wall. My fists curl without me telling them to.
"On my way."
I stop by the bedroom door before I leave. Brooklyn’s curled up with a pillow hugged between her arms, with her face calm. I want to stay. I want to crawl back beside her. I want to pretend the world outside doesn’t exist.
But I kiss her forehead instead. Quiet and careful.
"I’ll be back, Baby," I swear to her.
She doesn’t wake.
Outside, the air is cold enough to bite. I drive fast. The roads are empty and the sky is still dark. I know the way without thinking. I’ve been to too many scenes to count, but my hands still shake on the wheel.
I know what we’re walking into. I can feel it before I ever see it.
River fog is thick. Flashing lights cut through it. Yellow tape. Deputies. EMTs who already know they won’t be needed.
Morris is standing near the embankment, arms crossed, jaw set.
He doesn’t have to say a damn thing.
I walk to where the body is.
She’s young. Maybe twenty. Skin pale. Hair brushed smooth. Lips painted a soft pink. Make-up done carefully. Like someone tried to make her beautiful. Her wrists are bound behind her. And her ankles are tied too. Not tight enough to leave marks.
She’s clean.
Too clean.
No blood. No dirt. Like she was washed. Dressed only in a pair of black stilettos that are way too formal for anything near a river.
Like she was a display.
My throat closes. My stomach twists.
Not again.
*Not again.*
Morris steps up beside me but doesn’t look at me. He just looks at her.
"Matches the others," he says. "But cleaner. More deliberate. He took his time this time. Something’s changed."
My jaw clenches hard enough to hurt. "He’s getting confident."
"Yeah."
I crouch and study her face. Not touching. Just looking. Searching. Every detail matters.
Her eyes are closed. Lashes curled. She looks like she’s sleeping.
I feel something behind my ribs. Something sharp. Something too familiar.
I picture Brooklyn’s face on that riverbank. And for a second, I can’t breathe.
Morris sees it. He speaks low.
"Don’t go there, Jax."
"Too late."
He exhales. "We’re gonna get him."
I stand up. The wind whips cold across the water. My hands go into fists again as I say, "We should've already had him."
Morris doesn’t argue. He doesn’t need to.
Because we both know the truth. The one that claws under my skin every time I close my eyes.
He wanted Brooklyn.
He had her.
And he’s not done.
I look out across the river. Fog rolling. Water dark. Trees leaning overhead like they’re listening.
I say it out loud so the world hears it.
"I’m not letting him take anyone else."
And I don’t care what I have to do.
I don’t care who I have to become.
I will end this.
Before he circles back to the one person I can’t lose.
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