Jackson's POV

I walked into the room with a smile, the kind I knew Adina hated most. It wasn’t warmth, wasn’t kindness. It was the grin of a man who already owned her, who could play with her like a puppet.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said lightly, shaking the small bag in my hand. “Had to make a stop. Got you something. Your favorite.”

Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed tight, but I moved closer anyway, crouching down beside her bed as if I was bringing her a gift instead of her ...