Val's P.O.V

The note from Jax was a brand against my skin, its words seared into my mind. I tucked it safely under my pillow, a secret to be revisited, a source of strength and a point of conflict. The clock now read 8:17 a.m. The tightrope was officially stretched out before me, and every second was a step forward.

I dressed with a new sense of purpose, choosing clothes not for comfort or style, but for armor: dark jeans, a simple black long-sleeved shirt. I pulled my hair back into a ...