A Night to Forget
"You have to come with me. Please, Tessa! You know you’ll regret it if you don’t."
Jax stood at her apartment door, dressed to kill. Black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to showcase his arms, gray slacks clinging to his frame like they were tailored for him, loafers—no socks, of course. The man looked delicious, smelled even better.
Tessa sighed, stepping aside to let him in. "I’m not really in the mood to go out, Jax. I have stuff I need to get done."
She collapsed onto her bed, lazily scooping another bite of ice cream, watching as he moved straight to her closet.
"We’re going out," he said, pulling the door open. "It’s a celebration outing. Your divorce is finalized. You never have to deal with the Monroe family again. Lucas is out of your life—forever."
Tessa paused, setting her bowl down as Jax pulled out the dress.
The revenge dress.
Sleek, red, open-back, tied at the waist—a dress meant for defiance, for reclaiming herself. It was supposed to mark her freedom. Instead, it had marked something else entirely. The night everything blurred between her and Jax.
She shot off the bed, snatching it from his hands.
"No way. I’m not wearing that."
She shoved the dress back in the closet, shutting the door like it could lock away the memories with it.
It had been a week since that night in the alley. A week since her divorce. Lucas hadn’t shown up in court. His lawyers had handed her a box of her things—along with a letter.
She hadn’t read it.
When she got home from court, she found six dozen red roses and a small bouquet of whites waiting at her door.
The past week deserved a night out. Jax knew it. He was baiting her.
Tessa took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before pulling the dress back out. Fine. One night.
An hour later, she was sliding into Jax’s car, her bare back pressed against the smooth leather seat.
"Thank you." She turned to him, squeezing his hand.
Jax brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. "You deserve this."
They drove toward downtown Falls Hollow—a city alive with music and neon lights, brimming with bars, clubs, restaurants, and restless souls searching for distraction.
"He wasn’t in court," Tessa murmured, staring out the window. "But Duval had a box and a letter for me. I haven’t opened them. I’m not ready yet."
Jax said nothing, his jaw tightening as he listened.
She had hoped Lucas would be there. Hoped for some kind of closure. A goodbye.
Instead, she was handed his absence.
"I thought he’d want to apologize. Say sorry. Ask for forgiveness."
Jax scoffed. "He’s a coward. Nothing. You hear me?" His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. "You deserve more. He lied to you, used you—he should rot in hell."
Tessa reached out, pressing a hand to his thigh—a silent plea to calm him.
Lucas and Jax had been best friends once. All three of them. Until they realized who Lucas really was.
"He didn’t use me, Jax," she said softly. "You saw him after Cassie died. I know he loved me. I know he loved her. That wasn’t an act."
Jax let out a slow breath but didn’t argue.
Tessa wiped her tears quickly. She wasn’t going to do this. Not tonight.
It had taken two years to learn how to breathe without drowning. Two years of numbing the pain. Of waking up every morning and convincing herself she wasn’t a mother anymore.
Jax reached over, pulling her hand toward him—then, suddenly, pulling her onto his lap.
Tessa didn’t object. She rested against his chest, head on his shoulder, the hum of the road filling the silence between them.
"I’m sorry," he murmured. "Tonight is supposed to be a celebration, not a pity party." He smirked, teasing. "You’re dressed to kill. Who knows? We might just end up going home with complete strangers."
Tessa laughed softly, shaking her head—but she let him hold her.
Maybe, for just one night, she could forget.
Jax rubbed slow circles on her back, coaxing a chuckle from her lips. He was right—tonight was not about pity.
She inhaled deeply, finally glancing around. They were parked, the club just one block over.
Tessa hugged Jax tightly, pressing a quick kiss over his heart. He smiled, dropping his lips to the top of her head, a silent reassurance.
She slid off his lap and stepped out into the night.
The moment she hit the pavement, she adjusted her skirt, smoothed her hair, spritzed a delicate mist of perfume, and touched up her lip gloss.
By the time Jax joined her, reaching for her hand, she looked as untouchable as she felt fragile.
Together, they walked toward SilverMoon.
The club—a converted warehouse drenched in deep shadows and pulsing music—stood ahead, a sleek beacon of indulgence.
There was a line, but Jax strode past it like he belonged there. He did. The door swung open for him without a word.
Inside, the club dripped with Gothic decadence.
Velvet sofas sprawled in the VIP sections, their deep reds blending into the moody darkness. Every bar was stocked with bottles gleaming under low lights, the counters adorned with silver filigree. Even the bar tools followed the theme—black and violet, like bruises in the dim glow.
As they moved deeper, the music swallowed them whole—louder, heavier, vibrating through their bones. The lights **strobed wildly—red, green, orange—cutting through the dark like jagged edges.
Tessa barely registered Jax’s palm pressing against her lower back as they ascended the staircase to the second floor.
Then—that feeling.
A prickle down her spine.
A tension curling under her skin, familiar from a week ago.
She was being watched.
She turned her head too quickly, eyes scanning the shadows. Nothing.
Her distraction cost her—she tripped on the last stair.
Jax caught her immediately, steadying her with hands that had always been there when she needed them.
She forced a smile. "I’m fine."
He didn’t look convinced.
They walked down a narrow hallway, leading to the third floor—the most exclusive space in the club.
The room was a masterpiece of quiet luxury.
Leather armchairs encircled low, onyx-topped tables. The bar was obsidian, lined with antique silver filigree, its shelves stacked with crystal decanters glowing faintly—enchanted, perhaps.
Velvet drapes pooled from the ceiling like a midnight canopy. Bookshelves disguised hidden doors, whispers of secrecy woven into the walls.
Jax led them to his usual spot—a secluded two-seater overlooking Silver Moon Bay.
Tessa let herself take in the view, the silver reflections dancing over the water. A rare moment of peace.
Then—goosebumps.
Not from the cold.
From being watched.
She glanced around carefully. Nothing.
Jax reappeared, handing her a drink. "The bartender said there’s a special event happening in ten minutes on the second floor. We should check it out."
Tessa hesitated, then nodded.
They descended, winding into the forming crowd. The center of the room had been cleared, security pushing people back into a half-circle.
Then—darkness.
A single spotlight.
Soft music began, and a woman descended from the ceiling on a swing, silk scarves flowing from its sides.
Tessa’s nerves pulsed again. Not from the performance.
She scanned the room, searching.
Then—she found him.
Silver Eyes.
Standing in the balcony alcove.
Watching her.
Red eyes glowing.
Knuckles white around the goblet he gripped.
She couldn’t move.
Her breathing shallowed, heart hammering in her chest.
Terrified. Excited. Frozen in the moment.
She knew, somehow, he wouldn’t hurt her.
She just couldn’t explain why.
Then—Jax’s arm tightened around her waist.
The spell shattered.
She turned, catching Jax in a silent standoff with Silver Eyes.
Silver Eyes’ jaw clenched.
Then—a scream tore through the club.
The music cut. The lights burst to life.
In the center of the room—a lifeless woman.
Panic erupted. People shoved, ran, collided.
Jax grabbed her hand. "We’re leaving."
The crowd suffocated them.
She struggled to keep up, her heel catching—wedged into the stair.
"Jax!" She tried pulling his hand, but he had already been swallowed by the chaos.
She turned—two men stood over the body.
One—shaken.
The other—smirking.
Then—the shift.
Their forms blurred.
They weren’t men anymore.
Claws. Snarling.
Wolf-men.
Tessa stood frozen, watching the fight erupt with savage fury.
She yanked at her shoe, failing.
People shoved past her, trapped in their own desperation to flee.
Then—her name.
She heard it, cutting across the chaos.
She looked up—a giant couch was flying toward her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact—
"Death by flying couch, Princess Warrior? That’s how you want to go out?"
She forced herself to look—Silver Eyes
Again.
The same pair from a week ago.