Sam's P.O.V.
The officer’s words echo in my head, each syllable feeling like a stone sinking deeper into my chest. Jax gives me a steady look, silently telling me to follow his lead. I nod, trying to suppress the trembling in my hands as we both step out of the car.
The early morning chill bites at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ice coursing through my veins. The highway is eerily quiet, except for the low hum of the police radios and the occasional whoosh of a passing car.
“Hands where we can see them,” one of the officers orders, his voice calm but firm. Jax complies instantly, raising his hands slightly as he steps forward. I do the same, feeling exposed under the flickering red and blue lights.
“This is all a misunderstanding,” Jax says evenly, his tone carefully measure
