While the banquet hall glowed with radiant lights and rippling laughter, the Hayes household descended into a private hell, crafted solely for Henry and Addie.
Jax moved with lethal precision, a flick of his hand signaling his men to slip silently into the house. He dragged Addie’s limp form forward, her unconscious weight a distasteful burden, and entered through the front door.
Henry lounged in the living room, swirling a glass of liquor, his ease unshaken. The door’s creak drew his glance to the clock. Assuming Addie’s return, he scowled. “Why are you so late? Those filthy humans will be here soon.”
Silence met his words.
His temper flared, but as he turned to unleash it, his eyes landed on Addie—unconscious, slumped in the doorway. Before he could react, Jax materialized behind him
