Elena’s POV
The car ride back to his penthouse felt like a prison sentence.
Dax’s hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly the leather strained. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on the road, not sparing me a single glance.
Jack sat in the back, swinging his legs, humming to himself—completely unaware of the storm sitting in the front seats.
I clenched my fists in my lap, every part of me screaming to grab Jack and run the moment the car stopped. But where would I go? He’d find us. He always did.
When we pulled into the underground garage, Dax killed the engine with a force that made the car shudder.
“Out,” he said.
The command was sharp, leaving no room for argument. But I refused to move until Jack slid out first. My son clutched his little backpack, blinking up at
