23

Here I am, Jackson.

You don't remember how you got this pretty little knife wound, but your subconscious does. This part of you does.

I'm going to have so much fucking fun punishing my little dove for that one.

I won't hold it against her for too long, though. Because that's what I need. I would never obsess over a woman who wasn't capable of stabbing me straight in the chest.

I adore her spark.

I want to stamp it out. Thenrekindleit bit by bit until it's a roaring, twisted wildfire. Controlled by me alone.

Henrik's wrinkled eyes twitch as he watches my face. He adjusts his glasses, staring at me.

He's truly my only family, though we don't share a drop of blood. But he's poking around where he doesn't belong. My history is mine alone. I feel the slow, hot pulse of rage in my veins.

Henrik wants to stop the beast that's been unlocked with me. But I know better. I know this is therealJackson.

"Jackson?"

He's looking at me in confusion.

"Ah, you can see it, Henrik. Impressive."

"S—see what?"

There's already an edge of fear in his voice. There's that intelligence. He was always a brilliant observer of people. What did he see? Darkness swallowing up my eyes as this episode began?

"You caught it, but you don't know what it is. It's me, Henrik. All of me. Jackson is just a fraction of man with a fraction of his memories."

His eyes widen in shock as I advance. I grab Henrik's starched shirt collar, lifting his bodyout ofthe chair.

Blind rage is pumping through me. It's a swirling, dark storm of uncontrollable emotions in my brain. The only thing that's clear is my need for vengeance, and Henrik is threatening to get in my way.

I slam him against the wall, and he groans in pain.

I snarl. "Don't ask any more questions about my past, Henrik."

Henrik sputters, his glasses askew. "What is going on, Jackson?"

"I have work to do. I advise you to stay out of my way."

"This isn't like you," he gasps. "You're not a violent man."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do."

"I don't want to have to report you to the medical board, Jackson, but I will—"

"And don'tevertell me to stay away from Ava Cain."

A hot pulse of rage goes through my veins. I'm full of pure animal bloodlustandmy fingers are itching to kill again.

Don't.

I pause. It's Jackson's voice. I feel it drifting into my consciousness from a faraway place.

Don't hurt him.

He's our only family.

I beg you.

Empathy is a dull emotion. Compassion is worse. This is not an empathetic, compassionate world.

But the voice is right; I care about Henrik Lund. Not many men would see potential in me at nineteen years old. When I was poor, broken, and running from apastI couldn't even clearly remember. But he saw it.

That's why I drop Henrik back down to his feet. He stumbles, nearly falling.

Even in this state, I can't ignorethe debt I've long owedto Henrik.

"You took me in and gave me this life when I was nothing. I'll always be grateful for that, Henrik."

He stares up at me, shielding his face with his hands.

"But I'm more than just your student and more than just a man put on this earth to help others. There's much bigger work to be done. There's much more pleasure to be had. I'm sorry that the version of Jackson you care forjustcan't see that."

I step over Henrik's cowering body toward his front door.

I've got another name to check off my blood-soaked list.