Love against vengeance

Chapter 4

‎Caroline followed him out of The Pit, the heavy door thudding shut behind them and cutting off the roar of the crowd. The night air was biting, a sharp contrast to the humid, beer-soaked atmosphere they’d just left.

‎Jax didn’t head for the sleek SUV that usually sat in the school's prime parking spot. Instead, he started walking toward the edge of the lot, where the asphalt crumbled into a dirt path leading toward the old quarry.

‎"What, no chariot tonight?" Caroline asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline hammering against her ribs.

‎"Too many eyes on the road," Jax replied without looking back. "You wanted the version of me that doesn't make people look good. That guy doesn't drive a sixty-thousand-dollar lie."

‎They walked in silence for ten minutes, the only sound of the crunch of gravel was under their boots. They reached the jagged lip of the quarry, overlooking a dark expanse of water that reflected the moon like a sheet of black glass. Perched on a rusted guardrail was a weathered wooden bench, its surface covered in carved initials of ghosts long gone.

‎Jax sat and gestured for her to do the same. "This is it. The grand reveal."

‎Caroline looked around, unimpressed. "A hole in the ground? Very poetic, Jax. It really captures your depth."

‎"It’s the only place in this town where I’m not 'The Quarterback,'" he said, staring into the dark. "Down there, at the bottom, there’s an old crane. They left it when the quarry flooded in the eighties. My dad says it’s a monument to laziness. I think it’s lucky. It got to stop working and no one expected it to do anything else."

‎Caroline felt the notebook in her pocket—a weight reminding her of Carl’s broken spirit. She thought of the way Carl had looked after Jax’s "prank" went too far—the humiliation that had solidified into a quiet, hollowed-out despair.

‎"Is that why you hurt people?" she asked, her voice dropping the sarcasm. "Because you're tired of being a monument? Does making others feel small make the pressure feel lighter?"

‎Jax turned to her, his face half-hidden in shadow. "It’s not about making them small. It’s about seeing if anyone is real. Everyone wears a mask, Caroline. I just rip them off to see what’s underneath. Usually, it’s just more fear." He leaned closer, his eyes searching hers. "What’s under yours? Besides a grudge you’re trying very hard to hide?"

‎The precision of the question made her breath hitch. She was losing the lead. She needed to reset before the monster started charming the hunter.

‎"I'm not wearing a mask," she lied, her heart a frantic drumbeat. "I'm the one holding the mirror. And right now, it's showing me a boy who’s terrified that if he stops being a 'monster,' he’ll just be nothing at all."

‎Jax didn't laugh this time. He reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from her jawline, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel the heat. "Careful, Caroline. If you look into the mirror too long, you might just start to like what you see."