a

t in a long

wrecked sports car, a gash on his forehead bleeding profusely, his leg bent at an unnatural angle. He was Jaxon Kent, the unt

the doctors without hesitation. "Take as much as you need." He told me later, his eyes dark and intense, that my blood now ran

rs, he flew my favorite Parisian macarons in daily, he wrote me poetry that was both clumsy and breathtakingly sincere. "My li

e was replaced by the tiger's snarling maw. The memory of his vow to never let me go

sound ripping me from

room. The air smelled of salt and decay. My hands were tied behind my back,

and sharp,

s awake," a gravelly voice s

kled. "They look almost identic

he rhythmic sound of waves crashing ag

uined my family. He backed us into a corner, forced my father into bankruptcy. My father

er with contempt. A ruthless business riva

storted by a speaker, fil

ey have nothing to do with this." His voice was raw

hey have everything to do with it, Kent. You see,

mila, who was whimpering and struggling beside me. We were dragged forward and shoved

d Jaxon's ragged gasp. He w

narled, each word a l

r every ten seconds you delay transferring the company shares, yo

ngs. The salt stung the open wounds on my shoulder. I was hauled up, sputtering and gasping, only to be thrown in again. And again. The water

, my body limp and trembling, I heard Jaxon' s desperate vo

You only get to save one of them from the next round. So tell me, Jaxon. Which one

ragged breathing-it all faded away. There was only the static hiss

oo

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