Sam's P.O.V.
I woke to the warmth of Jax’s arm draped around me, his slow, steady breathing filling the quiet of the room. For the first time in what felt like forever, my mind wasn’t racing with worry or fear. There were no kidnappers, no schemes, no parents fighting. Just the two of us.
I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and let my gaze wander over his face. The tension he usually wore was gone, replaced by a calm I rarely got to see. It was like we’d both been given a reprieve from the chaos that had swallowed our lives whole.
The faint light of morning filtered in through the curtains, casting the room in a soft glow. I traced invisible patterns on Jax’s chest, my fingers brushing against the faint ridges of a scar near his collarbone. Every part of him felt solid, real—a
