Page 59 of Jax & Knox

This one doesn't take me a second to understand. It's Owen. He's asleep in his crib, one cheek pressed against his pillow and his little body curled beneath the blanket. My hand flies to my mouth. Because that's his crib. That's his blanket. And that's this house.

The angle is wrong, taken from outside, through the window. But it's unmistakably Owen's room. The dinosaur decals Tessa put up. The hand-carved crib Tiny made.

The third message is just text:

I see him. I see you. You can't hide forever, Ainsley. You belong to me.

I drop the phone like it's burned me.

My heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe.

No. No, no, no.

Another message comes through.

I don't want to look.

But I do.

You thought you could run? You thought you could replace me? I'm coming for you, Ainsley. And when I do, I'm taking what's mine.

A sob tears out of my throat.

He found us.

He found Owen.

The room spins.

I can't breathe.

I can't think.

All I can hear is Justin's voice in my head, cold and cruel: You're nothing without me. You're weak. You're pathetic. You'll never be safe.

And he’s right, he’s always been right. I’m not safe here. Owen isn’t safe here. And if I stay, I’m going to get Jax and Knox killed. The realization hits me like a freight train: I have to go. I have to run. Now.

I move on autopilot.

I've done this before.

I know how to pack fast. I know what to take and what to leave behind.

My hands are shaking as I grab Owen's diaper bag from the hook by the door. I start shoving things inside, diapers, wipes, formula, his favorite stuffed bear.

I check on Owen, still asleep, thank God, and then move to the bedroom.

I pull out the small duffel bag I've kept hidden under the bed. The one I packed the day I left Justin. The one I swore I'd never need again.

I was wrong.

I throw clothes inside, mine and Owen's. Not much. Just enough to get us through a few days.

Where will you go?

I don't know.

It doesn't matter.