The small satellite phone vibrated once more in Jax’s palm, a pulse of cold assurance against his skin.
He felt the echo of that silent hum in the very marrow of his bones, a tremor that had nothing to do with the device and everything to do with the life he was about to reclaim. The world around him, bathed in the gentle morning light, still held its breath. Dahlia, still oblivious, laughed softly in the garden with Serena, a sound like chimes in the wind.
Serena’s hand tightened on his, her eyes, wide and knowing, met his. There was a fragile bravery there, a silent acknowledgment of the path they were once again forced to walk.
"He'll be here," Jax said, his voice a low rumble. "He always is."
Twelve hours later, the silence was a different beast. It hummed with anticipation, thick
