Chapter 19: BURNED OUT

***JAX***

The night lay heavy and still over the city, only the occasional crunch of gravel under my shoes breaking the darkness as I carefully lifted her out of the car. Her body felt light, too light, and yet there was an immense heaviness in my arms. I felt her head sink to my chest, heard the soft groan that came from her throat, barely more than a breath.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I murmured, my tone softer than I would have expected of myself. ”I’m here with you.”

Her breathing was shallow, but it was there – a weak but reassuring rhythm. I led her into the house, closed the door quietly behind me, and paused for a moment to take in the silence around us. It felt as if time had stood still, as if the world itself paused to react to this moment.

I carried her up the stairs, my gaze kept returning to her face. She had been through so much, and now she was finally here with me, and I was determined not to lose her again.

Once in the bedroom, I carefully laid her on my bed. The mattress barely gave way under her slight weight, and I pulled the blanket over her until she looked safe and secure. Part of me just wanted to stay there, sitting next to her, making sure she made it through the night. But there was more to do .

I stood up, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead – a gesture I didn’t question – and went back to the car. Her bag and the doctor’s bag were still there, and I wanted to make sure that everything she needed was within reach. When I returned to the bedroom, the air in the room felt heavier.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, opened the doctor’s bag and started checking the bandages. My hands worked routinely, but my mind was a chaos of images and thoughts. **Damian.** His name was a curse that ran like poison through my veins.

The wounds had stopped bleeding, the bandages were clean. There was no need to change them, and yet I hesitated, running my fingers over the edges of the fabric, as if to make sure that everything really was all right. She seemed so fragile, so small at that moment, and yet I knew that there was a strength in her that Damian could never destroy.

I took a deep breath, sat up and pulled the blanket back over her before leaving the room. She needed something to eat. Something warm, nourishing, to restore her strength. My steps took me down to the kitchen, where the familiar sounds and smells soothed me for a moment.

I opened the fridge, letting my eyes wander over the supplies while my mind kept racing. Vegetables. Broth. Simple, but exactly what she needed. I took out a pot, filled it with water and started to prepare the ingredients. Carrots, celery, leeks – every move was precise, almost mechanical, but my mind was far away.

My fingers tightened around the knife as Damian’s face appeared in my mind. **The madness in his eyes, the way he had looked at her.** My teeth ground as I sliced the carrots on the chopping board, the rhythmic tapping of the knife the only sound in the room.

“You damned piece of shit,” I murmured to myself.

The scent of the broth began to spread through the air, warm and comforting, but it brought no relief to my mind. My eyes wandered to the stove, then to the door, as if I were expecting her to walk in at any moment, weak but determined to stand on her feet. But she stayed upstairs, and the silence in the house weighed heavily on my shoulders.

I leaned against the countertop, hands braced firmly on the cold wood, taking a deep breath. **What was she to me?** The question popped up without warning. She wasn’t just my sister, whom I wanted to save, not just a name in my past. She was... more. Much more than I wanted to admit .

When the broth was ready, I set it aside, let it cool slightly, and poured a cup. I took it upstairs and opened the door carefully. She stirred slightly, her eyelids flickered, and I sat down carefully at the edge of the bed.

“Celine,” I said softly, my voice almost a whisper. ”Hey, you’re awake.”

Her eyes opened slowly, her lips moved, but it took a moment for words to come. “Jax...” Her voice was weak, but it was there.

“How do you feel?“ I asked, my eyes seeking hers, trying to read her thoughts.

“Better,” she murmured, but I could see that she was still a long way from being okay.

I nodded, handing her the cup. “Here, drink this. It’ll do you good.”

She took the cup with trembling hands, drank slowly, and I could see the warmth of the broth spreading through her body. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.” Thank you.”

“Hold me, Jax... please.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it pierced me deeply, touching something I was desperately trying to bury. Her eyes searched mine, pleading, hurt, and I felt my throat tighten.

I remained silent, my grip on the empty cup so tight that my knuckles turned white. “Celine,” I began, my voice breaking, “this is not a good idea.” I forced myself to look at her, forced myself to speak the truth, which I myself hardly wanted to believe. “You need rest... not me.”

She wouldn’t back down, not this time. Her hand slid slowly over the blanket, a soft rustle that echoed in my ears like a scream. She tapped the empty side of the bed with her slender fingers. “Just for a moment, Jax,” she said softly, “I just don’t want to be alone. Please.”

Damn it. I should have walked away, but I stood there like an idiot, trapped near her, unable to draw a line that I should have drawn long ago. “I’ll get you another drink.” The words came frantically, almost hastily, and I turned around abruptly, as if I could escape the gravity of her words.

I took the empty cup with me and left the room, her eyes like a knife in my back. The stairs felt like an endless descent, each step harder than the last, until I finally arrived in the cool, quiet kitchen. I put the cup down with a bang on the countertop and leaned on the table with both hands. My breathing was shallow and irregular, and I felt the pressure in my head growing.

“Damn it, Jax!” My voice was a soft but sharp whisper that echoed in the emptiness of the kitchen. I slammed my fist on the table, the bang reverberated. The pain that shot through my hand was nothing compared to the chaos that was rearing up inside me.

I yanked open the kitchen cupboard and pulled out the small box hidden there. My fingers were shaking, my thoughts a jumble of guilt and desire. The cold steel of the lid under my fingers brought a moment of clarity, but it wasn’t enough. I opened the box, took a small pinch of the white powder and swallowed it. The familiar burning sensation set in, slowly, relentlessly, and I felt a part of me relax – just a small part.

But even now she was there, in my thoughts, her face, her voice. She was waiting upstairs, and I knew I had to go back. But how could I stay by her side when every second near her was a struggle that ate away at me inside?

I took a deep breath, held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. “Okay, Jax,” I murmured softly to myself, “calm down. She’s your sister. This isn’t about you. Get a grip and take care of her.” My voice sounded hollow, almost alien, as I tried to regain control. But the thoughts in my head couldn’t be organized, each trying to be louder than the other.

A sudden sound broke my concentration. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, the low hum like a slap in the face. I fumbled to pull it out and saw the name on the display. Roger. What did he want? It was unusual for him to call – he knew I wouldn’t be at the club today.

“Roger,” I said curtly, my tone colder than I had intended. ’What’s up?”

There was a moment of silence at the other end, only a soft breathing could be heard before he spoke. ’Jax... the club...”

“What about the club?” I felt my neck tense, an unpleasant tugging that spread over my shoulders.

“It burned down.”

Blood rushed to my head, and for a moment I thought I had misheard it. My voice got harder, sharper. ”What did you say? Is this a joke, Roger?”

“No, Jax. Not a joke. The club... is completely burnt down.” His words were slow and heavy, as if he himself had to grasp what he was saying.

I gasped for air, my hand clenched around the phone so tightly that my fingers ached. ‘Burnt down?’ My voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. ”Who?”

“We don’t know that yet, Jax,” Roger replied. His voice sounded subdued, almost apologetic, as if he could cushion the blow his words dealt me.

I stood motionless, staring into space as the words hammered through my mind. The club. My club. Everything I had worked so hard for, built up... gone. Just gone. The air in the kitchen suddenly felt stuffy, and I could feel my heart beating against my chest, faster and harder with every breath.

“Damn it, Roger!” My voice exploded, loud and uncontrolled, as I slammed my free hand down on the table. The pain was nothing compared to the seething anger that built up in my chest. ”How could this happen? Why didn’t anyone see anything?”

“Jax, I don’t know. It all happened so fast. The fire department says it could have been arson, but—”

“But what?” I cut him off, my voice dangerously low now. ’Who had access? Who was last there? Don’t tell me no one was suspicious.”

“I’m... I’m trying to find out,’ Roger stuttered, and I heard the uncertainty in his voice. ”But so far we have nothing.”

I clenched my free hand into a fist, feeling my nails dig into my skin. “I’ll be right there. Keep everyone who might know something. Nobody leaves, understood?”

“Roger that, Jax.” Roger sounded relieved that he could do something to appease me, even if it wasn’t nearly enough.

I ended the call without another word, dropped the phone on the table and leaned on it with both hands. My breathing was fast and shallow, and I could feel the anger growing inside me, hot and uncontrollable. Someone had burned the club down. Someone had taken everything from me, and I would find out who it was. And when I had found him... and I had an idea God help him.