Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
My jaw tightened as Jax continued. “But here’s the thing, those glossy political families always have cracks under the surface. Hadley’s life might’ve looked perfect from outside, but I’m seeing enough whispers and rumors to know that behind closed doors, it was anything but. I imagine she grew up being treated more like an accessory than a beloved daughter.”
My hands clenched into fists, a low burn building in my stomach. I understood how appearances could hide the darkest truths, and it made me want to tear down anything that had ever made her feel trapped or helpless.
“Send the full dossier to me,” I told Jax. “And keep digging. I want everything.”
“Done,” he agreed easily. “Already on it.”
I ended the call, staring at the phone long after the screen went dark. It all made sense now—why Hadley clung to control, the mask she wore was second skin, and her defiance sparked like steel and fire whenever she felt cornered.
She was fighting her past, and I understood that battle better than anyone. I’d lived it and fought my own way out of darkness. And I’d be damned if I let anyone push Hadley back into that cage again.
She was mine now. Every secret. Every scar. Every breath she took belonged to me, and anyone who wanted her back would have to fight through hell itself.
And I wasn’t planning on letting them win.
I rubbed my jaw, glancing toward the open door to my office. The image of Hadley sleeping in my bed had stayed burned into my mind. Thinking about the soft curves of her body wrapped in my sheets was doing unspeakable things to my self-control.
I blew out a breath and thumbed through my contacts until I found Flint’s number and hit Call.
He picked up on the first ring. “Cage, been waiting for you to call.”
“Got a situation I need your eyes on.” I leaned back in my chair. The house was quiet around me, the gentle hum of the air-conditioning a faint background noise. “A woman got hit by debris at the track today. When I was checking the wound, I found a scar near her right temple—claims she got it as a toddler from hitting her head on a table, but it doesn’t add up.”
Flint went quiet for a second, thoughtful. “Explain.”
I described what I’d observed in detail. “It looks more like a botched cosmetic job than a surgical repair. Like someone was trying to remove something rather than fix it.”
“Send me a photo,” Flint ordered. “Something clear.”
I flicked through my phone to the photo we’d taken at the hospital for her medical paperwork, zooming in to make sure the scar was clearly visible. It was the perfect angle, showing exactly what he needed. I hit Send, then listened to Flint mutter softly under his breath as he reviewed the image.
“Damn,” Flint grunted after a moment, the grimness in his voice confirming my suspicions. “You’re right. That scar is definitely surgical. No way it came from a childhood injury. They cut something out. My money’s on a congenital nevus—a birthmark, maybe slightly raised, irregular edges, darker pigment. Which accounts for that faint shadowing you see and the uneven surface. They obviously weren’t careful about smoothing out the skin.”
My blood ran cold, the protectiveness in my chest growing. “Can you tell who might have done it?”
“It’s definitely the kind of procedure I’d handle for the Hounds if we needed to make someone vanish,” Flint confirmed. “But Cage, we’d never do a hack job like this. Whoever worked on her was unskilled—someone you’d find working out of a back room with no license and paid under the table.”
“Fuck.” Illegal surgery wasn’t just risky; it could be deadly. “She’s from money. Political family, wealthy, high profile. Parents obsessed with their public image. Any chance they’d go under the radar to erase something they didn’t like?”
Flint exhaled, his tone cautious. “Possible. Wouldn’t be the first rich family to carve off something they found embarrassing or detrimental to their image. But brother, with their kind of money, they wouldn’t need to settle for some butcher with no skill.”
That’s exactly what had been bothering me all along. “Yeah, my gut says it’s something else.”
“What’s your instinct tell you?”
“That she’s in trouble. Maybe someone was hiding something about her. It’s bad enough to raise the hairs on my neck.” My voice dipped lower, anger simmering beneath the surface. “And the thought of someone hurting her makes me want to rip them apart.”
Flint chuckled softly in understanding. “You got it bad, Cage.”
I didn’t bother to deny it. “Do some digging. Ask around, see if anyone in your circles recognizes the handiwork. Maybe one of your colleagues has seen something like this before.”
“Will do,” Flint assured me. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear something.”
We hung up, and I set the phone down, leaning back in my chair and letting my head tip back for a moment while I blew out a long breath. The fury coursing through my veins wasn’t cooling off. Instead, it only intensified the burning, possessive instinct that had taken root the second I saw her blood on my fingers. She was mine now, every beautiful, stubborn inch of her, and no one would touch her ever again.