JAXON
I woke up next to a woman I didn’t love, in a bed that felt like a cage, in a life I had chosen over everything that mattered.
Evelyn Harrington was already awake, sitting at the vanity in our suite, brushing her blonde hair with mechanical precision.
She caught my reflection in the mirror and her expression didn’t change. Cool, composed, just like the perfect political partner that she was.
“Good morning,” she said, her tone as neutral as if we were business associates. Which, I suppose, we were.
“Morning.”
I sat up, running my hands through my hair, trying to shake off the nightmare I had been having. Isla’s face, twisted in pain. Her voice, cracking as she begged me to explain. The way she had looked at me like I was a stranger.
Like I was a monster.
“You were restless
