Freya’s POV
I didn't know how much time had passed in the dark. Hours? A whole day? Time had lost its meaning in that quiet, suffocating void that had settled on my soul.
I slowly sat up in bed. At the movement, I instinctively tensed my muscles, waiting for the splitting, scorching pain, but it didn't come. Under the bandages, my skin was no longer throbbing. Jax's blood had done its job; my flesh had knit back together, the wounds had closed. When I peeled the bandages off myself and stood before the bathroom mirror, only a network of smooth, silvery-white scars served as a reminder of the hell I had spent in the interrogation room.
My body had healed, but inside, something had stopped. I didn't hate Jax. I couldn't hate the man who meant life to me. But the trauma had penetrated so d
