Chapter 4 - The Shattered Mirror
The senior officer pulled a heavy tactical baton from his utility belt, his face hardening as the reality of the situation set in. The faint rattling sound from inside the SUV was unmistakable now—a child struggling for every single molecule of oxygen in the sun-baked tomb.
"Step back, everyone," the officer commanded, raising the steel baton high above his shoulder.
Clara opened her mouth to protest, likely fabricating another lie about property damage, but the officer cut her off with a glare that brooked no argument. "Lady, if that child dies of heatstroke while you argue about keys, you'll be sharing a cell with him. Stand back."
With a powerful swing, the officer brought the heavy steel baton down squarely on the rear passenger window. The reinforced glass shattered with a deafening pop, web-cracking instantly before caving inward in a shower of dull cubes. A wave of suffocating, oven-hot air rushed out of the vehicle, carrying the sharp scent of melting leather and synthetic interior heat.
Jax didn’t wait for the glass to clear completely. He shoved his arms through the broken frame, ignoring the sharp edges slicing into his forearms, and reached into the back seat.
"I've got you, baby. Daddy’s got you," Jax whispered, his voice cracking as he unbuckled the harness and scooped the limp, burning-hot toddler into his massive arms.
Chloe’s skin was beet-red, her blonde curls plastered to her forehead with sweat, and her eyes were half-closed, rolling back dangerously. She let out a weak, pathetic whimpering sound that pierced straight through Jax’s soul.
"Paramedics! We need a bus over here right now!" the second officer shouted into his shoulder radio, sprinting back toward the cruiser to retrieve an emergency medical kit.
Jax stumbled backward out of the vehicle, clutching Chloe tightly against his chest. He collapsed to his knees on the scorched asphalt, shielding her small body from the glaring sun. He stripped off his black button-down shirt, wrapping her in the cooler fabric while frantically fanning her face with his hand.
Clara stood a few feet away, her white blazer immaculate, her expression completely devoid of remorse. She pulled out her smartphone, tapping the screen with a manicured fingernail as if watching a routine business transaction unfold rather than a medical emergency.
"You're ruined, Jax," Clara said coldly, her voice barely audible over the crackling radio static. "You violated your parole by assaulting me and damaging my property. Even if she survives, Child Protective Services will take her before the sun sets. You’ll never see her again."
Jax looked up from his unconscious daughter, his eyes burning with a terrifying, apocalyptic fury. The tattoos on his neck seemed to pulse with the intensity of his rage.
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"You think this is about parole, Clara?" Jax whispered, his voice dripping with a lethal darkness that made the nearest police officer instinctively reach for his cuffs. "You think prison was the worst thing that ever happened to me? You just opened a door you can never, ever close."
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