The cell reeked of damp concrete and rusted chains. My wrists throbbed where the iron cuffs bit into my skin, and every time I shifted, the metal scraped bone. I tried to breathe slowly, tried to remember that panic only wasted energy. But my lungs betrayed me, shuddering, shallow, desperate.

I’d fought. God, I’d fought so hard. But Jason’s men had been faster, colder, more ruthless. Jaxon had been dragged down under a storm of fists before my eyes, and then I was gone, thrown into the ...