The live photo of my daughter’s teddy bear on the ground felt like a hand around my throat.
I was shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. Jax had just walked back into the apartment, knuckles bloody from dealing with his contacts. The moment he saw my face, he knew something was wrong.
“Lily-Rose,” he said sharply, crossing the room in two strides. “Talk to me. What happened?”
I showed him the message. His eyes turned black with rage.
“They have one of her toys,” I whispered, voice cracking. “They’re close to the kids, Jax. This isn’t a game anymore.”
Jax pulled me into his arms, holding me so tight it hurt. “I swear on my life, I will end this tonight. No one touches your children. I love you. You’re my family now.”
His words were fierce and full of love, but fear still grip
