Chapter 2

Amelia POV

Seeing me lift my chin, Dennis ground his heel harder into my shoulder.

"Keep your head down, bitch," he spat, leaning his entire weight onto my bones. "Mr. Ross didn't give you permission to look at him."

He snapped his fingers at a waiter. "Bring me the heaviest crystal tumblers from the back shelf."

The waiter hurried over with four thick, cut-glass whiskey glasses. Dennis grabbed the first one and smashed it against the edge of the sideboard. Jagged shards scattered across the floorboards, landing inches from my bare knees. He took the second one and stomped it under his heel, grinding the glass into a bed of needles right in front of me.

"Make her crawl over the glass to Mr. Ross's boots," Karmen clapped her hands on the screen. "Tell her if she leaves a drop of blood on the floor, you'll burn her precious diary."

Brandt leaned into the camera. "Hear that, Amelia? Crawl to Mr. Ross. Lick the dust off his shoes and beg him to sign the debt extension."

I didn't look at the screen. I kept my eyes fixed entirely on Jax.

He sat back in his high leather armchair, sipping his bourbon. He looked completely detached, like an emperor watching stray dogs fight over table scraps in the mud.

But his eyes never left the blood pooling near my knees.

I recognized that look. Eight years ago in the alley behind Fulton Street, when he charged out of the dark with a rusty iron pipe to protect me from three thugs, he had that exact same look—assessing the blood first, then the people. That night, he took a knife slash to his forearm and two cracked ribs. He bled all over my kitchen linoleum while I stitched his wound with ordinary sewing thread. Sweating through the pain, he promised me that as long as he was alive, he would never let anyone hurt me.

Now he was sitting in a two-thousand-dollar chair, coldly watching his thug smash crystal at my feet.

He hadn't recognized me. But he kept that pink iPod right next to his elbow, guarding it like a tombstone.

A cold smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth.

Dennis caught the smile and lost his temper. He swung his hand and slapped me hard across the left cheek. The force rattled my skull, and a drop of blood flew from my split lip.

"You think this is a joke?!" Dennis yelled, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head backward. He dragged my body forward across the floor. The glass shards instantly pierced my thin shift, grinding against my kneecaps. Agony shot up my thighs. I let out a muffled groan, but I didn't crawl.

Brandt's laughter boomed from the TV. "That's it, Dennis! Break her down! She's just a cheap knockoff anyway, street trash to her core!"

I knew Jax was watching me. That was exactly why I refused to crawl.

I locked my core muscles and stayed frozen upright on my knees. I wouldn't lay on my stomach like a dog, and I wouldn't put my elbows in the glass. Back in that basement, with a 104-degree fever, he would rather shiver under a blanket than kneel and beg. I knew better than anyone what Jax Ross despised most.

Dennis twisted my hair tighter around his knuckles, stretching my neck taut.

"Look at Mr. Ross, you little freak," Dennis hissed in my ear. "Tell him you're sorry. Tell him you want him to torture you."

Jax set his glass down.

The crystal made a sharp, distinct clink against the mahogany table. The sound instantly cut off Brandt's laughter and froze Dennis's hand in mid-air.

Jax leaned forward, resting his forearms on the green felt. For the first time all night, his gray eyes looked straight into mine.

"She's a terrible copy, Singleton," Jax said, his voice completely flat. "The girl I lost never kneeled for anyone. She never looked at men like a beaten dog. If it were her, she would have grabbed a piece of that glass and shoved it through Dennis's throat five minutes ago."

He tilted his head slightly, staring at the blood beneath my knees.

"But the dead woman was full of lies, too. She promised she would wait by the fire hydrant on Nostrand Avenue. Instead, she let herself burn to ash in a dilapidated brick building."

Karmen panicked on the screen. "Brandt, he's mad! Tell her to fix it! Amelia, do something, you stupid cow! Don't ruin Brandt's deal!"

My chest heaved under the soaked cotton.

Lies?

When did I ever abandon him?

When the burning ceiling collapsed onto my shoulder, I used my last breath to push him out the third-story window onto the canvas awning. I took the fire for him. I swallowed the smoke for him.

And now, he sat there letting his men grind glass into my flesh, calling me a liar.

I drew a deep breath, forcing the pain down. The whiskey fumes made my throat dry and rough, but my voice echoed clearly across the dead-silent room.

I slowly turned my head, looking at the velvet tray holding the pink iPod.

Then I turned back and locked eyes with him.

"You always were terrible at math, Jax," I rasped. "Even a dog knows the difference between a master and a stray."