C1 Blood in Beverly Hills

Elara Voss stood frozen in the doorway of her parents' master bedroom, the air thick with the metallic stink of blood. Her mother lay sprawled across the silk sheets, eyes wide and empty, a dark stain spreading beneath her. Her father slumped against the headboard, one hand still clutching the phone as if he had tried to call for help. Shadows moved in the corner of the room. Two figures in black, faces hidden, turned toward her at the same time.

A scream built in her throat but never made it out. Strong fingers clamped around her upper arm and yanked her backward so hard she nearly lost her balance. Jax Rivera, her stepbrother, shoved her behind him, his body a solid wall of muscle and tension.

"Run," he growled, voice low and rough.

Gunshots cracked through the mansion like thunder. Elara's bare feet slapped against the cold marble floor as they bolted down the long hallway. Jax kept one hand on her, steering her toward the back stairs. Her heart hammered so loud she could barely hear anything else. The warm California night air hit them as they burst through the garden doors, the scent of jasmine and fresh blood mixing in her nose.

They crashed through the manicured hedges, branches snagging at Elara's thin sleep shirt. Jax moved like he had done this before, ducking low and pulling her with him. Behind them, heavy footsteps pounded across the patio. More shots rang out, shattering a fountain statue into glittering pieces.

"Keep your head down," Jax ordered. His dark wavy hair was messy, hazel eyes sharp under the moonlight. Tattoos peeked from beneath the sleeve of his black t-shirt as he gripped her tighter.

Elara's mind spun. This could not be happening. One minute she had been scrolling her phone in bed, the next her world was exploding. Jax had always been cruel to her, calling her princess in that mocking tone that made her blood boil. Now he was the only thing keeping her alive.

They reached the garage at the edge of the property. Jax smashed the window of her father's sleek black Mercedes with his elbow, reached inside, and hot-wired it in seconds. The engine roared to life. He pushed her into the passenger seat and floored it, tires screeching as they tore down the private driveway.

Headlights flooded the rearview mirror almost immediately. A black SUV barreled after them, closing the distance fast. Jax swerved onto the main road, weaving through late-night traffic on the streets of Beverly Hills. Horns blared around them.

"Shit," he muttered, jaw tight. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

Elara twisted in her seat, catching glimpses of the pursuing vehicle. "Who are they? What the hell is going on?"

"Questions later. Right now, stay alive." Jax glanced at her, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. For a second his gaze dropped to where her sleep shirt had ridden up her thigh, then snapped back to the road.

The SUV rammed their bumper. The impact jolted Elara forward. She grabbed the dashboard, breath coming in short gasps. Jax took a sharp turn onto the freeway, the city lights blurring past. The chase stretched on, but slowly the SUV fell behind as Jax pushed the Mercedes to its limits.

They ditched the car in a dimly lit parking lot near the 101 and walked the last few blocks to a rundown motel. The neon sign flickered weakly above the office. Jax paid cash, keeping his head low while Elara stood shivering beside him. The clerk barely looked up.

Room 17 smelled of old cigarettes and cheap cleaner. One queen bed took up most of the space. Jax locked the door and shoved a chair under the handle. Elara sank onto the edge of the mattress, legs finally giving out. The full weight of what happened crashed over her. Her parents were dead. Murdered in their own home.

Jax paced the small room like a caged animal. His shirt clung to his broad shoulders with sweat. He tossed her one of his spare shirts from the duffel he had grabbed during their escape. "Change. You look like hell."

She caught it, fingers brushing his. That brief touch sent an unwelcome spark through her. She hated him. She had always hated him. But right now he was all she had.

Elara changed in the tiny bathroom, the oversized shirt falling to mid-thigh. When she came out, Jax was sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. She hesitated, then sat on the far edge, as far from him as possible.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Every small sound outside made her jump. Jax finally lay back, one arm behind his head. "Get some sleep, princess. We move at first light."

She curled up facing away from him, but the bed was too small. His body heat radiated across the sheets. Tears slipped down her cheeks as the images of her parents replayed. A sob escaped before she could stop it.

Jax shifted. His arm came around her waist, pulling her back against his chest without a word. She stiffened, but the solid warmth of him grounded her somehow. His breath tickled her neck. She felt the hard lines of his body pressed to hers, the steady beat of his heart. Old hatred simmered beneath the surface, but something darker, more dangerous, stirred too.

Just as her eyes grew heavy, Jax's phone buzzed on the nightstand. He tensed, sliding out of bed to answer it in the corner. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "I told you not to call this number. She's with me. Yeah, I'll handle it. Keep your mouth shut."

Elara pretended to sleep, but her pulse raced. Who was he talking to? And why did it sound like he already had a plan that did not include keeping her safe for long?