Chapter 3 - The Silent House and the Hidden Truth
The interior of Mark Vance’s house smelled sharply of rubbing alcohol, old copper, and despair. Dust motes danced lazily in the weak sunlight filtering through grease-stained blinds. Jax moved swiftly through the narrow corridor, his boots heavy on the creaking floorboards. He pushed open the door to the master bedroom, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him.
Mark lay sprawled across an unmade mattress, his breathing shallow and ragged. His once-muscular frame was wasted away, his skin ghostly pale against the soiled pillowcases. An empty bottle of prescription painkillers rolled off the nightstand and came to a rest against Jax’s scuffed boot.
"Mark, damn it, wake up," Jax muttered, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He shook Mark’s thin shoulder gently, but the man only groaned, his eyes fluttering open with immense effort.
"Jax... you came," Mark whispered, his voice like dry sandpaper. "I tried... I couldn't stop the pain this time. And Dylan... the school called."
"I know about the school," Jax said, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his bearded cheek. "I got the notification. I'm going to get him right now. But you need to stay with me, brother. Do you hear me?"
Mark gripped Jax’s scarred wrist with surprising strength. "They're going to take him, Jax. The state... they don't care about our history. They just see a broken home and a veteran who lost his grip. You have to hide him. Take him to the cabin by the lake."
"No running, Mark. We handle this legally, or we handle it my way, but we don't turn into fugitives," Jax replied firmly, though his own heart was hammering against his ribs. He knew how the system worked; it crushed men like Mark without a second thought.
Before Mark could reply, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway behind them. The social worker and the two police officers filled the bedroom doorway, blocking any chance of a quiet exit.
"Mr. Miller, I must ask you to step away from the bed," the caseworker said, adjusting her glasses. "We have paramedics en route for Mr. Vance, and an emergency placement order for Dylan."
Jax slowly stood up, placing himself directly between the bed and the authorities. His towering height and tattooed arms gave him a dangerous edge, but he kept his voice deliberately calm. "You aren't taking that boy anywhere until I have legal custody papers in my hand."
May you like
"You don't have standing, Mr. Miller," the officer warned, resting his hand on his holster. "And right now, we have a report that Dylan Vance has just run away from his school."
---
Related Stories
