Jax's P.O.V.
The quiet hum of the house felt unsettling, almost too still. Sam lay across my lap, curled up as she slept soundly, oblivious to the storm that seemed to be brewing outside these walls. Her steady breathing was the only thing that kept me grounded in this moment. I absently stroked her hair, my fingers brushing through the strands, trying to reassure myself that she was safe, even though I knew the reality was far more complicated.
I shifted slightly, the weight of the gun tucked beneath my shirt pressing into my side. It had been a calculated risk to take it, but I wasn’t about to leave Sam unprotected. Not after everything that had happened. Not after the bottle through the window, and the threat that followed. My mind kept replaying that moment—of the note, the warning,
