Layla’s POV
I destroyed everything I could get my hands on. The pillow from the cot went first, ripped at the seams, feathers exploding into the air like sad snow. Then the single chair, thrown against the wall with a crack. I screamed until my throat was raw, a wordless animal sound of pure frustration and hurt. The walls of the room, my pretty prison, felt like they were closing in, suffocating me.
The door flew open. Jax stood there, his face in shock for a second before it hardened into that infuriating, unreadable mask.
“Layla, stop—”
He came toward me, his arms going around me, trying to contain the storm. I fought him, shoving against the solid wall of his chest. “Get off me!”
“Cool down,” he whispered, his voice rough in my ear, but it wasn’t gentle. It was an order.
“GET OU
