The heavy leather briefcase slipped slightly from Marcus Vance's shaking hands as Jax held him up by his silk shirt. The morning ocean breeze blew past the teak deck of the rogue yacht, carrying the loud hum of the high-power servers that Silas had just frozen from miles away.

Marcus looked down at the dark water below, his pale face covered in cold sweat. His eyes were wide with pure terror because he knew his dirty games were finished forever.

"Open the briefcase, Marcus," Jax growled out in his deep, dangerous voice. "And you better hope there is something inside worth keeping your teeth in your mouth."

Marcus scrambled to...