The arena still roared behind them, thousands of voices chanting Jax's name But inside the VIP box there was complete silence.
Jax walked ahead, his academy uniform wrinkled from wearing armor underneath. Sweat clung to his skin but his steps were steady.
Confident.
Behind him, Paige followed, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Kiera walked beside her mother, arms crossed and her face was unreadable.
Security flanked them from all sides, pushing back the swarm of reporters that had tried to rush the moment they left the field.
"Jax! Jax! One question!"
"How did you predict every shot?!"
"Were you hiding your skills this whole time tell us?!"
The guards pushed them back. "No interviews! Move aside!"
Paige glanced at her son's back. Her chest felt tight. She'd built her empire over decades—calculated risks, ruthless negotiations and crushing competitors without mercy.
But watching Jax dismantle Jennifer's team alone with nothing but a rifle and raw skill?
