Too Late: The Don's Regretful Pursuit

Jax POV:

The book sat on the mahogany nightstand like an accusation.

It was a rare edition of dance theory, still entombed in plastic I had never bothered to tear off. Eliana had left it there three months ago, hoping I would ask her about it. I never did.

Now, it was the only thing in the room that proved she had ever existed.

I reached out, my fingers hovering over the glossy cover.

*Buzz.*

The phone screen lit up, shattering the moment.

*Catalina: I’m bleeding. Please hurry.*

The air in the room shifted instantly. The ghost of Eliana vanished, replaced by the suffocating urgency of the living.

I snatched the phone and my keys. I didn’t think. I didn't process. I just moved.

The drive to the guest wing was a blur of gravel and rain. When I burst into Catalina’s suite, she was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, clutching her hand wrapped in a towel. The white terry cloth was stained with bright, fresh red.

"Jax," she whimpered, looking up through wet lashes. "I was trying to open a bottle of wine for us... for the celebration."

She let the towel drop. A shallow gash ran across her palm.

It wasn't life-threatening. It wasn't even deep. But the sight of her blood triggered a mechanism in my brain that had been hardwired since childhood. *Protect Catalina.*

I tore the first aid kit from under the sink. My hands, usually steady with a gun, fumbled with the antiseptic.

"You have to be more careful," I muttered, dabbing at the cut.

"I know," she sighed, leaning her head against my shoulder. Her perfume was heavy, cloying—like flowers left too long in a vase. "I was just so excited. I have a surprise for you later. This... this might ruin it."

"Nothing is ruined," I said, applying the bandage with rigid focus. "It's just a cut."

"It's not just a cut, Jax," she whispered, her other hand creeping up my chest. "It's a sign. We bleed for each other. That's what partners do."

I paused. *Partners.*

The word felt wrong in my mouth, like a tooth that didn't fit.

"Is there any news?" I asked, staring at the stark white bandage. "About Eliana?"

Catalina stiffened. She pulled her hand back.

"Why do you care?" she asked, her voice sharpening. "She made her choice. She walked out on you. On the family."

"She's still a Viles by association," I said, standing up to wash my hands. The water ran cold. "I need to know she's not... talking."

"Talking?" Catalina laughed, a harsh sound that bounced off the tiled walls. "Jax, wake up. She's not a threat. She's a backup plan that expired."

I gripped the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white.

*Backup plan.*

Eliana wasn't a backup. She was the foundation. She was the floorboards I walked on without thinking, assuming they would always hold my weight.

"She was my fiancée," I said, watching the water swirl down the drain. "Not property."

"She acted like property," Catalina countered, sliding off the tub and walking up behind me. She wrapped her arms around my waist. "She did whatever you told her. She had no spine. That's why she ran. She couldn't handle the life. She couldn't handle *us*."

She pressed a kiss to my shoulder blade.

"I heard a rumor," she murmured against my shirt. "From one of the guards. He said Eliana was making calls before she left. To the Irish."

I spun around. "The Irish? That's bullshit."

"Is it?" Catalina raised an eyebrow. "She felt scorned, Jax. A woman like that... quiet, repressed... when they snap, they burn the house down. She probably sold us out to buy her ticket to freedom."

My jaw tightened. Eliana, a traitor? The girl who learned to bandage bullet wounds before she learned algebra?

"She wouldn't," I said.

"You don't know her," Catalina said softly, reaching up to stroke my jaw. "You only knew the version of her that wanted to please you. But think about it. She left right after you won. She left when you were strongest. She wanted to hurt you."

She winced, holding up her bandaged hand. "I'm the only one who bleeds for you, Jax. I'm the only one who stays."

I looked at her. I looked at the performative vulnerability in her eyes.

Part of me knew she was twisting the knife. Part of me knew Eliana left because I pushed her off a cliff and expected her to fly.

But the other part... the part that was tired, hollowed out, and desperate to fill the silence in my head... that part wanted to believe her.

Because if Eliana was the villain, then I didn't have to be.

"You're right," I said, my voice rough. "She left us."

"She abandoned you," Catalina corrected. "But I'm here. Forget her, Jax. She's just a ghost."

She kissed me. It was hungry, possessive.

I kissed her back, trying to drown out the quiet voice in my head that sounded exactly like Eliana saying my name.

"Don't let her memory haunt you," Catalina whispered against my lips. "She's not worth the space in your head."

I closed my eyes.

"I know," I lied.