Michael was speeding through winding roads like a madman. He was closing in on the white BMW in front of him rapidly, so he glanced up at his rearview mirror and switched into the left lane, passing it.

That's weird. Michael looked into his rearview mirror again, studying Corey. He was staring out the car window and sitting perfectly still, his hands rolled into balled fists. He wasn't shaking his leg, biting his lip, or engaging in any of his usual tics. Rather, it seemed as though Corey was actively trying to seem calm. Michael frowned. Something was off.

Michael had spent enough time with Corey – working on missions, picking up women, gambling at casinos – to know exactly when his colleague was lying. Michael had taken a sizeable chunk of Corey's wealth during poker games by being able to call his bluff. And Corey was bluffing right now.

Michael eased his foot off the gas pedal, slowing the vehicle down.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jax growled at him.

Michael peeled his eyes from the mirror and turned to his boss. "Corey is lying about Emma."

Corey's eyes widened in fear, and his mouth opened slightly. He took a deep breath and tried to look as normal as possible, even though he was a few seconds away from soiling himself.

"What? No, I'm not. Why would I lie about that?" Corey asked.

"Pull over, Michael," Jax said.

Michael obeyed, and pulled the car into a secluded area hidden by trees. The vehicle came to a stop.

Jax pulled his handgun from his waistband and blew off Corey's knee. Corey's agonizing scream filled the enclosed space as blood and bits of bone splattered everywhere.

"What did you do?" Jax asked in a low voice, unmoved by Corey's tears and howls.

"It- it was Frank's idea," Corey sobbed, his shoulders shaking. He clutched his thigh and shin, rocking back and forth in an attempt to alleviate the excruciating pain in his leg.

Jax shot Corey's other kneecap, and the young blonde screamed like a distressed banshee.

"Tell me everything, or I swear to God..." Jax said quietly.

"J-jo-jo," Corey stammered. "He's- he's going to kill her. She's not good for you. She's- she's messing with your head!"

Jax lunged forward, grabbed Corey's wrist, and pressed his gun into the fleshy inside of the elbow.

"Please, Jax," Corey pleaded pitifully, tears and bubbly snot streaming down his face. "Please."

"Emma," Jax said simply.

"Emma- Emma is fine. We didn't even touch her. We-"

Jax shot a third bullet into Corey's forehead. He slumped down onto the seat, his eyes blank and glassy. Jax covered the body with a blanket, then turned to Michael.

"Drive home. Step on it."

They got back to the mansion in record time, and Michael didn't even fully park before the passenger door flew open and Jax sprung out. Michael slammed the gear into park, and followed his boss into the house.

"Go to Emma's," Jax said without even looking back at him.

Michael paused, hesitating. Emma was fine, and he wanted to check on Jo. Well, maybe he didn't want to, considering she had been at Frank's mercy. He shuddered at the thought.

"What the fuck are you doing, I said go!" Jax roared.

"Got it," Michael nodded. He jumped back into the car and drove off.

Jax sprinted up the steps, three at a time, and hoped to God he was not too late.

Jax burst through Jo's bedroom with his gun cocked and ready to shoot. He was immediately greeted by the sickening scene of Frank straddling Jo with one hand on his zipper. Frank swiveled his head around at the commotion, a stupefied look on his face.

Jax shot him in the chest.

He smiled upon hearing the sweet sounds of the explosive gunshot and Frank's pained grunt.

As the bullet traveled through Frank's lung, he jerked forward from the impact and slumped down onto the bed. Jo moved so fast, she was nothing but a blur of naked skin and dark hair. Her hand shot out to grab the gun from the nightstand and before anyone knew what was happening, she was sitting on top of a wheezing Frank with a gun shoved down his throat.

She stared her tormentor in the eye and smirked before pulling the trigger.

*****************************

"Jo?" Jax asked softly. He was standing beside the bed, but she had yet to acknowledge him. Or move, for that matter.

Jo was stark naked, her body glistening with moisture and her hair a damp, tangled mess. She was staring down at Frank's lifeless body beneath her in a trance, her fingers still wrapped around the gun in his mouth. The sheets were stained with blood, and the stench of gunpowder and iron permeated the air. It was a bone-chilling scene to behold, and Jax was starting to seriously worry about her.

Jax removed his leather jacket and placed it gingerly over her shoulders. "I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

She didn't respond.

Jax placed one arm around her waist, and when she didn't move or otherwise indicate discomfort, he gently lifted her off of Frank. She felt lighter than he remembered, which was disconcerting. She seemed fragile.

Jax placed her onto the hardwood floors, wrongly assuming she'd be able to stand on her own two feet. When he removed his supporting arm from Jo's waist, her knees gave out and she started to fall to the ground.

"I got you," he said, catching her.

Jo took a deep breath then said quietly, "I think I'm going to be sick." She lowered herself to the floor and sat with her legs bent and her arms wrapped around her knees.

Jax looked around for the nearest wastebasket, grabbed it, then crouched down beside Jo, rubbing her back through his leather jacket. She clutched the rim of the wastebasket with both hands and retched the sad contents of her stomach into it. Jax quickly pulled back her hair and held it behind her neck as she threw up.

The burning, sour taste of bile filled Jo's mouth and nose. She was heaving involuntarily and couldn't catch her breath. The terrible sensation of being unable to breathe gave her painful flashbacks to what had happened earlier, and tears streamed down her face as she coughed and spat pitifully. Eventually the retching stopped, but the tears did not.

Jo sighed and wiped the salty water from her face, then stared at her wet fingertips in bewilderment.

"Come here," Jax said softly, lifting her from the floor. He had one arm under the bend in her knees and the other around her middle. Jo wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her out of the room.

*****************************

The master bathroom in Jax's bedroom was enormous. The gleaming tile floor was heated, and the double sink countertop was cut from marble. There was a Jacuzzi as well as a glass-enclosed rainfall shower. The bathroom even had its own sitting area comprised of a circular glass table surrounded by two tufted chairs.

Jax sat Jo down in one of the cream tufted chairs, and as he did so he noticed a trickle of blood running down her inner thigh. His vision became blurry with rage, and a white-hot heat charged his body. He longed to bring Frank back to life just so he could kill him slowly and painfully. He'd cut off one appendage at a time with a dull knife, starting with Frank's dick.

Jax gritted his teeth and willed himself to calm down for Jo. He took a deep breath.

"Trade me?" Jax asked, as he wrapped a warm, plush towel around Jo's body. She nodded, and he removed his jacket from under the oversized towel.

Jo looked a mess. Her face was splattered with Frank's blood, and there were dark circles under her eyes. There was a bit of puke crusted into her knotted hair. Jax's heart broke just looking at her.

He ran a washcloth under hot water, then wrung out the excess. Jax kneeled before her and started to wipe the blood off her face. She flinched at his touch, causing him to grimace. Dark thoughts of castrating Frank reentered his mind.

"I'm sorry, Jo," he said.

Jo looked into his sad, puppy dog eyes for the first time since everything had transpired. She just stared at him in a daze.

"What can I do for you?" Jax asked.

Jo closed her eyes and thought to herself.

"Just take me away from here."

"Okay," he said, reaching for her hands. "Okay."

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