Chapter 10 - The Deathbed Confession
Jax froze, every muscle in his body locking up. He pushed past the investigator without another word and hurried through the doorway into the dim recovery room.
Mark lay propped up on a motorized hospital bed, a tangle of clear plastic tubing running from his arms to various monitors that beeped in a slow, steady rhythm. His face was gray, his cheeks hollowed out, but his eyes—those familiar, tired eyes he had shared combat with years ago—were open and looking directly at the doorway.
Jax walked slowly to the bedside, dropping his heavy frame into the metal chair. He reached out and wrapped his large, warm hand around Mark’s cold, thin fingers.
"I'm here, Mark. I'm right here," Jax said, his voice unusually soft, stripped of all its usual rough edges.
Mark managed a weak, heartbreaking smile, his lips dry and cracked. "I heard them out there, Jax... arguing over my boy. Don't let them take him. He’s all we have left of Sarah."
"They won't take him, I swear to you," Jax promised fiercely, squeezing Mark’s hand. "I’ll tear this whole state apart before I let anyone put him in the system."
"You need... you need the box," Mark whispered, his breathing growing noticeably shallower as the monitors began to beep slightly faster. "In the back of the closet at the house... under the floorboards. The real papers. Not just the emergency proxy."
Jax leaned in closer, straining to catch every word. "What papers, Mark? Talk to me."
"Adoption papers," Mark breathed out, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye and cutting through the stubble on his cheek. "We filed them legally three years ago when my injuries started getting worse. I never registered them with the state registry because I was... I was too proud. Too afraid they’d take him early. But they're notarized. You are his legal adoptive father on record, Jax."
Jax felt the breath catch in his throat. The revelation hit him like a physical blow. All this time, while the state argued about him being an unrelated friend, the legal truth was sitting under a floorboard just waiting to be claimed.
The door behind them creaked open wider, and the state investigator stepped into the room, flanked by a security guard.
"Mr. Vance, I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but we need to discuss—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Mark turned his head toward her with a sudden, surprising surge of adrenaline, his eyes flashing with the fire of a soldier who refused to surrender.
"Get out," Mark rasped out, pointing a trembling finger at the door. "Get out of my room, or I swear to God I'll rip these IVs out right now."
The investigator stopped dead in her tracks, stunned by the sheer ferocity remaining in the dying man. Taking advantage of the distraction, Jax stood up slowly, leaned over Mark, and whispered four words that sealed their pact forever.
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"I'm going home to get them."
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