The Blood Rescue

🩸 CHAPTER 4: THE PRICE OF SURRENDER

The entire club seemed to lose its oxygen.

Every single pair of eyes in The Red Velvet turned from Jax’s

silver-headed cane straight to me. The silence was deafening, broken

only by the rhythmic, terrifying click of Jax’s cane against the

hardwood floor as he began to walk in my direction.

"Eva?" Marcus whispered from somewhere behind me, his voice trembling

so hard he could barely pronounce my name. "What... what did you do?

Why is the Pakman looking at you?"

I couldn't answer him. My jaw was locked, my limbs completely frozen

as Jax closed the distance between us. His soldiers moved like a wall

behind him, pushing aside tables and chairs to clear a direct path.

With every step he took, his Alpha aura expanded, a physical wave of

dominance that forced the low-ranking Betas in the room to

instinctively drop their gazes. But I couldn't look away. His

pitch-black eyes were locked onto mine, burning with a lethal

combination of satisfaction and possessive hunger.

He stopped exactly three feet in front of me.

Up close, I could smell him. The scent of dark cedar wood and heavy

smoke was overwhelming, practically choking out the artificial citrus

spray I had desperately coated myself with. My body betrayed me

instantly. A treacherous, liquid warmth bloomed deep in my core, and

my vision blurred as the amber in my eyes fought to surface.

Jax leaned heavily on his cane, a faint line of tension tight around

his jaw—a reminder that I had slammed an elbow into his fresh bullet

wounds less than two hours ago. Yet, his smile remained impossibly

smooth, impossibly dangerous.

"You hit hard for a kitchen courier," he murmured, his deep voice

carrying a rough, amused edge.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," I lied, my voice

shaking despite my best efforts to sound defiant. I forced myself to

stand straight, gripping my plastic serving tray like a useless

shield. "I'm just a Beta server. You have the wrong person."

Jax let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through my chest. He

stepped closer, completely invading my personal space until the heat

radiating from his massive frame washed over me. He lifted his free

hand, his leather-gloved fingers hovering just a millimetre away from

the pulse point on my neck.

"The little bird still tries to chirp like a sparrow," he whispered,

his eyes dropping to my mouth before snapping back to mine. "But your

skin is burning, Eva. Your heart is racing. And right now..." He took

a deep, deliberate inhale, his chest expanding against his black silk

shirt. "...you smell like fresh rain. My rain."

Ilya stepped up beside him, holding out the biometric scanner. The

device whined as it swept over my face, and a sharp, digital chime

echoed through the silent club.

A bright, neon-blue light flashed on the screen.

Omega.

Gasps rippled through the crowd of onlookers. Marcus stumbled

backward, his eyes wide with absolute shock. To the syndicate, an

Omega wasn't just a woman; she was a mythological asset, a prize worth

killing for.

"Pack the scanner away, Ilya," Jax commanded, never breaking eye

contact with me. "I don't need a machine to tell me what belongs to

me."

"Let go of me," I gasped, though he hadn't even touched me yet. The

sheer weight of his attention felt like handcuffs. "I have a life

here. I have a job. You can't just—"

"Your life as a ghost is over, little bird," Jax interrupted, his

voice dropping into a register of absolute authority that brooked no

argument. "An unclaimed Omega in this city is a death sentence. The

Ivanov’s know I survived the ambush, and by morning, they will know a

mystery girl saved me. If I leave you here, they will hurt you. They

will cage you. They will use you to break me."

He stepped into my space, his massive hand finally making contact,

wrapping around my jaw with an iron but surprisingly careful grip. His

thumb brushed over my cheekbone, forcing my head up.

"I don't let rivals touch what is mine," he growled softly. "You're

coming with me."

"No!" I cried, finally finding my fight. I slammed my plastic tray

down onto his bandaged chest, aiming directly for his wounds.

Jax didn't even flinch. His jaw tightened, a momentary flash of pain

crossing his features, but his grip on my jaw didn't loosen by a

fraction. Before I could strike again, Ilya and another soldier

stepped forward, gently but firmly grabbing my arms and pinning them

to my sides.

"Easy, loyalty," Ilya muttered, his voice professional but unyielding.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"Jax, please!" I yelled, abandoning all protocol as they began to drag

me backward toward the entrance. "You can't do this!"

"I am the Pakman," Jax said, turning his back to me and walking toward

the double doors, his cane clicking rhythmically against the floor. "I

can do whatever I please."

They escorted me out of the club and into the freezing downpour. A

massive, matte-black armoured SUV was waiting at the curb, its engine

roaring like a caged beast. The door was held open, and before I could

scream for help into the empty, locked-down streets, I was pushed into

the plush, leather interior of the backseat.

An instant later, Jax slid in beside me. The heavy door slammed shut,

sealing out the sound of the rain and the city, plunging us into a

suffocating, intimate silence.

The SUV hit the gas, speeding away from The Red Velvet and climbing up

into the elite hills where the Volkov compound overlooked the burning

neon grid of the city.

I scrambled to the far side of the seat, pressing my back against the

door, my breathing ragged. I stared at him through the shadows of the

tinted windows. Jax didn't move. He leaned his head back against the

leather headrest, his eyes closed, his pale face reflecting the

passing streetlights.

"Where are you taking me?" I whispered, my voice small, the reality of

my captivity finally crashing down on me.

Jax opened his eyes, turning his head slowly to look at me. In the

dark, his amber irises gleamed with a terrifying, protective fire.

"To my castle, little bird," he said softly, reaching out to gently

catch a stray lock of my wet hair, tucking it behind my ear. "Where I

can keep you safe. And where I can teach you exactly how to submit to

your King."