The Strategy
Hela arrived forty minutes later.
Jack heard her heels clicking on the concrete floor before Maya knocked on the door.
"She's here," Maya said through the wood.
"Send her in."
The door opened. Hela stepped inside, her eyes sweeping across the private box with something like wonder.
"Jesus," she said softly. "Every time I come here, I'm amazed all over again."
She was wearing a black dress—simple, elegant, cut low enough to be suggestive without being obvious. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Diamond earrings caught the light.
Jack sat at his desk, his hands folded in front of him. He didn't stand.
Hela crossed to the couch and sat down, crossing her legs. She looked around the room—the leather furniture, the one-way window overlooking the warehouse floor, the bar in the corner.
"I remember when I first met you," she said. "You were angry. Broken. But I could see the fire in you." She looked at him. "I just didn't think you were capable of building something like this."
Jack said nothing.
"If I'd known," Hela continued, her voice softer now, "I would have tried harder to hold onto you. Instead of Rider."
Jack's jaw tightened. "You're not here for a trip down memory lane."
Hela smiled faintly. "No. I suppose not."
"I need ideas," Jack said. "I've been hitting Rider from multiple angles. The Crestfall bid war. Undermining his connections. Breaking down his operations. But it's not enough."
"What have you done so far?"
Jack outlined it. The blackmail on Sterling Capital Partners. The financial pressure. The systematic dismantling of Rider's network.
Hela listened without interrupting. When he finished, she leaned back against the couch.
"You're pretty much done," she said.
Jack frowned. "What?"
"You've already won. You just don't see it yet."
"Explain."
Hela uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees.
"Rider has three pillars," she said. "His business. His prostitution racket. And Caldwell." She held up three fingers. "Thanks to your little kingdom here, you've already broken down his prostitution racket. King's Paradise is pulling clients he used to control. You're offering something better, cleaner, more exclusive."
Jack nodded slowly.
"If the Crestfall deal goes through," Hela continued, "his business takes a major blow. He'll be in debt. Overextended. Vulnerable."
"That's the plan."
"So all that's left is Caldwell."
Jack was quiet for a moment. "Caldwell's untouchable. He's too powerful. Too connected."
"You don't need to touch Caldwell," Hela said. "You just need to break Rider's relationship with him."
"How?"
Hela smiled. "Rider is a very prideful person. It's his biggest weakness. He will never admit to Caldwell that he took a major blow in the Crestfall deal. Instead, he'll try to find other solutions. By any means necessary. Even if he has to sell his soul to the devil."
Jack leaned back in his chair. "And?"
"There's an orgy event happening at Caldwell's mansion two weeks from now," Hela said. "It's supposed to be a celebratory event. To celebrate Rider's firm buying Crestfall."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "You want us to attend."
"Yes. And expose the truth. That Rider is in debt. That he's overextended. That he's not the golden boy Caldwell thinks he is."
"Caldwell won't care about debt. He's a businessman. He understands leverage."
"He'll care if Rider lied to him," Hela said. "Caldwell values loyalty above everything. If he finds out Rider misrepresented his position—if he finds out Rider is desperate—he'll cut him loose."
Jack thought about that. It made sense. Caldwell was ruthless, but he was also pragmatic. He didn't invest in losing horses.
"But for this to work," Hela continued, "Rider needs to actually buy Crestfall. He needs to take on that debt."
"That's the plan."
"No." Hela shook her head. "Change the plan. Don't buy Crestfall. Tell your connections at Sterling to raise the price higher every time Rider counter-bids. Even if they don't have the money. Bluff it."
Jack frowned. "What if Rider doesn't counter-bid? We'd be stuck paying for a company we can't afford."
"Rider will outbid," Hela said confidently. "He hates to lose more than anything. I know him. He'll keep bidding until he wins."
"And what about Sterling?" Jack asked. "I told them they'd win the bid. I told them the blackmail Rider has on them wouldn't matter as long as they bought Crestfall."
Hela shrugged. "Not my problem. You asked for my advice. This is it."
Jack stared at her for a long moment.
The plan was risky. If Rider didn't take the bait, Jack would be left holding a company he couldn't afford. Sterling would be furious. His investors would lose faith.
But if it worked—if Rider took on the debt and then got exposed at Caldwell's event—it would be devastating.
Jack sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."
Hela smiled. "Good."
***
Jack's phone buzzed on the desk.
He glanced at the screen. Bella.
His chest tightened. He picked up the phone and answered.
"Bella."
"You called?" Her voice was flat. Annoyed.
"Yeah. I just—" Jack hesitated. "How have you been?"
There was a pause. "Is that all you wanted? To ask how I've been?"
"I—"
Before Jack could respond, Hela stood and crossed the room. She plucked the phone from his hand.
"Hi, Bella," Hela said brightly.
Jack lunged for the phone, but Hela danced backward, holding it out of reach.
"What the fuck—" Bella's voice came through the speaker, sharp and shocked. "What are you doing with Jack?"
"Oh, you know," Hela said. "Just helping him with some business."
"Hela—"
"Do you have my money yet?" Hela asked, her tone teasing.
There was a long pause.
"It hasn't been a week," Bella said coldly.
"Tick tock," Hela said.
The line went dead.
Hela laughed and tossed the phone back to Jack. He caught it, his jaw tight.
"You're still harassing her about that money?" Jack asked.
"Of course."
Jack pulled out his own phone, his fingers moving quickly. "How much does she owe you?"
"Don't," Hela said sharply.
Jack looked up. "What?"
"Don't pay it for her."
"Why not?"
"Because I want her to pay it," Hela said. "I want to see that holier-than-thou act get thrown out the window. I want to see her compromise. Bend. Break."
Jack's hand tightened around the phone. "You think I want the same thing."
"Don't you?" Hela tilted her head. "You want her back so badly. But you want her to come back on her knees. Admit she was wrong. Admit she needs you."
"No," Jack said quietly. "I don't need her to admit anything. Or righteous. Or evil. I don't care what she is. I just want her back at my side."
Hela stared at him for a moment. Then she smiled faintly.
"How romantic."
Jack's eyes hardened. "If a hair on her head gets touched, I'll kill you. Without a second thought."
Hela's smile widened. "I believe you."
She reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph. She tossed it onto the desk.
Jack looked down.
The photo showed Bella standing in a parking lot. A man stood beside her—tall, clean-cut, handsome. His hand was on her lower back. They were smiling.
The photo had been taken from inside a car. The angle was low, discreet.
Jack's vision went red.
"Who the fuck is that?"
"Daniel," Hela said. "Nice guy. Works in finance. Takes her to dinner. Makes her laugh."
Jack's hands curled into fists.
"Perhaps," Hela said softly, "Bella doesn't share your sentiment."
Jack stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor.
Hela didn't move. She just watched him, her eyes bright with amusement.
"When's the last time you had sex, Jack?" she asked.
Jack's jaw tightened. "Shut up."
"Weeks? Months?" Hela took a step closer. "You're wound so tight. All that anger. All that rage. You need to let it out."
"Hela—"
She reached out and cupped his balls through his pants.
Jack grabbed her wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise.
"I used to love it when you fucked me angry," Hela whispered.
Jack's other hand shot out and wrapped around her throat.
"Shut. Up."
Hela smiled. "Make me."
Jack shoved her backward. She stumbled, catching herself against the desk.
"You're pathetic," Hela said. "Sitting here pining after a woman who's already moved on. Who's probably fucking someone else right now."
Jack's vision blurred. He grabbed Hela by the shoulders and threw her to the floor.
She landed hard, gasping. But when she looked up at him, she was smiling.
Hela reached down and pulled her dress up over her hips. She wasn't wearing underwear.
She spread her legs.
"Take it out on me," she said.
***
Jack didn't think.
He dropped to his knees, his hands already working at his belt. The leather snapped as he yanked it free, the buckle clattering against the floor.
Hela watched him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"That's it," she breathed. "Let it out."
Jack grabbed the front of her dress—expensive silk, probably a thousand dollars—and ripped. The fabric tore with a satisfying sound, buttons scattering across the floor like dice, pinging off the desk, rolling under the couch. The seams burst open, threads snapping one by one as he pulled harder. Hela gasped as the dress fell open, exposing her breasts, her stomach, everything.
"Fuck yes," she hissed.
"Wait—" Hela started.
Jack shoved his pants down and grabbed her hips. He pulled her toward him roughly, positioning himself.
Jack thrust into her.
Hela's back arched, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Her nails immediately went to his shoulders, digging in hard.
Jack didn't wait. Didn't ease in. He fucked her hard and fast, his hands gripping her hips tight enough to leave bruises. He could feel her nails raking down his back, tearing through his shirt, scratching deep lines into his skin. The fabric ripped under her assault—first small tears, then larger ones as she clawed at him.
The pain was sharp. Immediate. Each scratch burned like fire, and Jack felt warm blood trickling down his spine in multiple streams. It made him fuck her harder.
"Fuck," Hela gasped. "Yes. Like that."
Jack's jaw was clenched. His vision was still red. All he could see was the photo. Bella smiling at another man. Bella moving on.
He fucked Hela harder.
"God, you're so strong," Hela moaned. "So fucking strong."
Jack's hand moved to her throat. He squeezed.
Hela's eyes rolled back. Her hips bucked against him. Her nails dug deeper, carving fresh wounds into his shoulders. Jack felt the sting intensify, felt more blood welling up, running down his arms. The pain was exquisite. Maddening.
"Harder," she gasped. "Choke me harder."
Jack obliged. His grip tightened. Hela's face flushed, her mouth opening as she struggled for air.
He kept fucking her. Kept squeezing.
When he finally released her throat, Hela sucked in a ragged breath.
"Again," she said.
Jack pulled out and flipped her over. He grabbed her hips and pulled her up onto her hands and knees.
"Yes," Hela breathed.
Jack slammed back into her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.
Hela's arms gave out. She collapsed onto her elbows, her ass still in the air.
Jack's hand came down hard on her ass.
The slap echoed.
Hela moaned.
Jack slapped her again. And again. Her skin turned red, then pink, then red again.
"Fuck, Jack," Hela gasped. "Don't stop."
Jack didn't.
He pulled out suddenly, and Hela whimpered at the loss. But then she felt him pressing against her other hole.
"Wait—Jack—"
He pushed in slowly. The resistance was immediate, tight, almost painful. Her body fought him, muscles clenching, trying to keep him out.
"Breathe," Jack growled.
Hela did. Her body relaxed slightly, and Jack pushed deeper. The sensation was different—tighter, hotter, more intense than anything else. He could feel every inch of her resisting, then yielding, then gripping him like a vice.
"Oh god," Hela gasped. "Oh fuck—"
Jack was fully inside her now. He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust. He could feel her trembling, her body trying to accommodate him. The angle was different, the pressure more intense.
Then he started moving.
Slow at first. Then faster. Harder.
Hela's hands clawed at the floor, her nails scraping against the wood. "Yes—yes—fuck me—"
Jack's hands gripped her hips, pulling her back onto him with each thrust. The tightness was overwhelming, the friction almost too much. He could feel her body stretching, adjusting, taking him deeper.
"Does it hurt?" Jack growled.
"Yes," Hela gasped. "Don't stop—"
He fucked her ass until she came, her body shaking, her voice breaking into incoherent sounds. Her whole body convulsed, and Jack felt her clench around him even tighter.
Then he pulled out and dragged her to the couch.
He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Hela straddled him, her hands bracing against his shoulders. Her nails immediately found the scratches she'd already made, digging into the wounds. Fresh pain bloomed across Jack's skin. He could feel her nails breaking through scabs, reopening cuts.
Jack hissed through his teeth. The burning sensation spread across his shoulders, down his back. He counted at least a dozen deep scratches, maybe more. Some were shallow, stinging. Others were deep enough that he could feel them throbbing.
"Look at you," she breathed. "All those tattoos. All that muscle. You're so fucking sexy."
Jack grabbed her hips and slammed her down onto him.
Hela cried out, her head falling back.
Jack fucked her like that—hard, brutal, relentless. His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing hard. Then he slapped one.
CRACK.
The sound was sharp, and Hela's eyes flew open.
"Again," she gasped.
Jack slapped her other breast.
CRACK.
Then the first one again.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
Her skin turned pink, then red. His handprints appeared on her flesh, clear and vivid. Her nipples hardened under the assault.
Then he leaned forward and bit down on her nipple.
Hard.
Hela screamed—half pain, half pleasure. Jack's teeth left marks, deep indentations in her skin. He bit the other one, just as hard, and Hela's scream turned into a moan.
Her nails raked down his chest, tearing through what was left of his shirt. The fabric finally gave up, falling away in strips. She clawed at his bare skin now, leaving fresh red lines down his pecs, his abs. Jack felt the sting multiply, felt blood welling up in new places.
"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, yes, yes—"
Jack stood abruptly, still inside her. Hela wrapped her legs around his waist.
He carried her to the one-way window overlooking the warehouse floor.
He pressed her against the glass.
He fucked her against the window, his hands gripping her ass, his hips slamming into hers.
Below, the warehouse was alive. Music pulsed. Bodies moved. People laughed and drank and fucked.
And above them, Jack fucked Hela like he wanted to break her.
"Harder," Hela begged. "Please, Jack, harder—"
Jack's hand moved to her throat again. He squeezed.
Hela's eyes locked on his. She smiled even as her face turned red.
Jack came.
He didn't pull out. Just kept thrusting, riding out the orgasm, his grip on her throat never loosening.
When he finally released her, Hela gasped for air.
"Again," she said.
***
They moved to the desk.
Jack swept everything off—papers, pens, the tablet—and bent Hela over it.
He entered her from behind, his hands gripping her hips.
"You're so wet," Jack growled.
"For you," Hela gasped. "Always for you."
Jack's hand came down on her ass again. Hard.
Hela moaned.
Jack fucked her harder. Faster. His other hand moved to her hair, gripping it, pulling her head back.
"Is this what you wanted?" Jack asked, his voice rough.
"Yes," Hela gasped. "God, yes."
Jack pulled out and turned her around. He lifted her onto the desk and spread her legs.
"Open your mouth."
Hela obeyed.
Jack pushed into her mouth, his hand gripping the back of her head.
Hela gagged immediately. Her eyes watered. Saliva pooled in her mouth and spilled over her lips, running down her chin.
Jack fucked her mouth roughly, his hips thrusting forward, his cock hitting the back of her throat again and again.
Gag. Gag. Gag.
The sounds were wet, desperate. Hela's throat convulsed around him, trying to accommodate, trying to breathe. More saliva poured out, thick and viscous, running down her neck in streams. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with her mascara, creating black rivers down her cheeks.
Jack's hand tightened in her hair. "Look at me."
Hela's eyes—red, watering, mascara running in thick black streaks—locked on his. More drool spilled out around his cock, pooling on the desk beneath her, soaking into what was left of her torn dress. Her lips were swollen, stretched obscenely around him.
Jack's other hand came up and slapped her face.
Hard.
CRACK.
The sound echoed in the room like a gunshot.
Hela's head snapped to the side. When she looked back at him, she was smiling around his cock, drool still pouring from her mouth.
Jack slapped her again.
CRACK.
Harder this time. Her cheek turned red immediately, a perfect handprint blooming on her skin.
CRACK.
Another slap. The other cheek this time.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
He slapped her in rapid succession, each impact making her head snap to the side, each one leaving her face redder, more marked. Tears poured faster now, her mascara completely destroyed, black streaks covering her face like war paint.
Hela moaned around him, the vibration traveling through his cock.
"Fuck," Jack growled.
He kept fucking her mouth. Kept slapping her. Her cheeks turned crimson, both sides marked with his handprints. More tears fell. More spit and drool ran down her chin, her neck, her chest, pooling on the desk beneath her. Her face was completely destroyed now—red, wet, streaked with black, covered in saliva.
Gag. Gag. Gag.
The sounds continued, wet and desperate and obscene.
When he pulled out, Hela gasped for air, her chest heaving. Her face was a mess—red and swollen, wet with tears and saliva and spit. Mascara covered her cheeks in thick black streaks. Drool hung from her chin in long strings.
"More," she said, her voice hoarse and broken.
Hela's hand shot out and slapped him.
The impact was sharp, unexpected. Jack's head snapped to the side.
CRACK.
He looked back at her, his eyes dark.
Hela smiled, her destroyed face somehow beautiful in its ruin. "Your turn to take it."
Jack grabbed her and pulled her off the desk. He pushed her to her knees.
"Suck," he said.
Hela took him into her mouth again, her hands bracing against his thighs. But this time, her nails dug in. Hard. Jack felt them breaking skin, felt the sharp sting as she dragged them down his thighs, carving deep red lines into his flesh.
He hissed through his teeth. The pain was immediate and intense, adding to the collection of wounds already covering his body. He could feel blood running down his legs now, joining the blood on his back, his chest, his shoulders.
Jack's hand moved to her head, guiding her, controlling the pace.
"That's it," he growled. "Take it all."
Hela moaned around him, the vibration sending a shiver up his spine. Her nails kept scratching, kept digging, leaving more red lines down his legs. Each scratch burned, each one made him throb with pain and something else—something darker.
Jack came again, his grip tightening in her hair.
Hela swallowed, but some spilled out, running down her chin to join the mess already there.
***
The door opened.
Maya stepped inside, her expression concerned.
"Is everything—"
"GET OUT!" Jack and Hela shouted in unison.
Maya's eyes widened. She backed out quickly, the door slamming shut behind her.
Hela laughed, the sound breathless and wild.
Jack grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. He pushed her against the wall.
"You think this is funny?" he asked.
"Yes," Hela said.
Jack's hand moved between her legs. He pushed two fingers inside her.
Hela gasped, her hips bucking forward. Her hands went to his chest, and she raked her nails down again. More scratches. More blood. Jack felt the burning sensation spread across his chest, felt fresh wounds opening up. The pain was everywhere now—his back, his shoulders, his chest, his thighs. He was covered in scratches, some shallow, some deep enough to bleed freely.
"You're soaked," Jack said.
"I told you," Hela breathed. "I love it when you're angry."
Jack added a third finger. Hela's head fell back against the wall, her mouth opening in a silent moan.
"Come," Jack said.
Hela did. Her body shook, her legs trembling, her hands gripping his shoulders for support. Her nails dug in one more time, and Jack felt fresh pain bloom across his skin.
Jack pulled his fingers out and pushed into her again.
Hela wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.
Jack fucked her against the wall, his hands gripping her ass, his hips slamming into hers.
"You think you're so fucking strong," Hela gasped. "Think you can just—"
Jack's hand moved to her throat. He squeezed.
Hela's eyes locked on his. She smiled even as her face started to flush.
Then her hand came up and slapped him.
CRACK.
Jack's head snapped to the side. He turned back slowly, his eyes dark.
Hela slapped him again.
CRACK.
"That all you got?" Jack growled.
CRACK.
Another slap. Harder this time.
Jack laughed—a low, dangerous sound. "You hit like a fucking pussy."
Hela's eyes flashed. "Fuck you—"
Jack released her throat. Hela dropped to her feet, and immediately she shoved against his chest with both hands, trying to push him backward, trying to force him to the ground so she could climb on top.
Jack didn't budge.
He was too solid. His feet planted, his core tight, absorbing her push like it was nothing.
Hela shoved again, harder. "Get down—"
Jack laughed in her face.
"I said get down—"
Jack grabbed her wrists and twisted, spinning her around. Then he shoved her hard.
Hela stumbled forward and went down, her knees hitting the floor with a dull thud. She caught herself on her hands, her hair falling around her face.
"Stay down," Jack said.
But Hela was already turning, already moving. Jack dropped to his knees and grabbed her hips, flipping her onto her back. He climbed on top of her, his weight pinning her down.
"You want to be on top?" Jack asked, his voice mocking.
Hela's hands went to his chest, her nails digging in. "Get off me—"
Jack grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. His other hand went to her throat.
"Make me."
Hela bucked her hips, trying to throw him off. But Jack was too heavy. She couldn't move him.
Then she went still.
Her eyes locked on his.
And she smiled.
"You think you've won?" she breathed.
Before Jack could respond, Hela twisted her hips sharply to the side. The movement was sudden, unexpected—and it worked. Jack's balance shifted, and Hela used the momentum to roll them both over.
Suddenly she was on top, straddling him, her hands braced against his chest.
"Fuck," Jack muttered.
Hela didn't waste time. She reached down, positioned him, and sank down onto his cock in one smooth motion.
Jack's breath hissed through his teeth.
Hela started moving immediately—hard, fast, brutal. Her hips slammed down onto him again and again, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room.
"That's it," she gasped. "That's fucking it—"
Her hands moved to his throat.
She squeezed.
Jack's eyes narrowed. He could feel the pressure, feel her fingers digging into his windpipe. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
He scoffed—a rough, dismissive sound.
Hela's grip tightened. "What's so funny?"
"You," Jack said, his voice strained but steady. "You think that's choking?"
Hela's face flushed with anger. She squeezed harder, her nails digging into his skin.
Jack's hand shot up and grabbed the back of her neck. He pulled her down into a bruising kiss—hard, aggressive, teeth clashing.
Hela gasped against his mouth.
Jack could taste it immediately. Salt. Musk. The unmistakable taste of his own cum still lingering on her tongue.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers.
Hela smiled, her lips swollen and wet. "You taste yourself?" she asked, her voice mocking. "You like that? Tasting your own cum in my mouth?"
Jack's jaw tightened.
"Does it turn you on?" Hela continued, her hips still moving, still riding him. "Knowing I swallowed you? Knowing you're tasting yourself on my tongue?"
Jack's hand tightened on her neck. He pulled her back down and kissed her again—harder this time, more violent. His tongue pushed into her mouth, claiming it, owning it.
Hela moaned, the sound vibrating against his lips.
Jack could feel it building. The pressure. The heat. He was close.
Too close.
With a growl, Jack grabbed Hela's hips and flipped them over again. She landed on her back with a gasp, her legs spreading automatically.
Jack pulled out.
"What—" Hela started.
Jack grabbed his cock and stroked it once, twice—
And came.
The first rope of cum hit her cheek. The second landed across her nose and lips. The third splattered across her forehead, dripping down into her hair.
Hela's mouth opened in shock, her eyes wide.
Jack kept stroking, kept coming, covering her face in thick white streaks. It ran down her temples, pooled in the hollow of her throat, mixed with the mascara already streaking her cheeks.
When he was finally done, Jack sat back on his heels, breathing hard.
Hela lay there, her face completely covered, her chest heaving.
She looked up at him through cum-streaked lashes.
And she smiled.
"Feel better?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
Jack didn't answer.
***
They collapsed onto the floor.
Jack lay on his back, his chest heaving, his body slick with sweat and blood. His shirt was completely gone now, torn to shreds and scattered across the room. Scratches covered his chest, his shoulders, his thighs, his back. Shallow, thin red lines. The burning sensation was everywhere, constant and intense.
Hela lay beside him, her legs still trembling, her breath coming in short gasps. Her dress was destroyed—torn completely open, soaked with sweat and saliva and other fluids. Her face was still a mess, her makeup completely ruined, mascara streaked down her cheeks in thick black lines. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks red and marked with his handprints. Her breasts bore the evidence of his teeth and hands—bite marks, red handprints, swollen nipples.
She was giggling.
Jack turned his head to look at her.
"What's so funny?"
"You," Hela said. "You fell for it. Every single taunt."
Jack rolled his good eye. "I know."
"And you don't regret it?"
Jack was quiet for a moment.
He looked at the ceiling. At the scattered clothes—his shirt in tatters, her dress destroyed, buttons everywhere. At the overturned desk. At the blood on his skin, running down his sides, staining the floor beneath him.
"No," he said finally. "I don't."
Hela's giggling subsided. She turned her head to look at him.
"That was the best sex you've had in a while, wasn't it?"
Jack didn't answer.
But he didn't need to.
Hela smiled and closed her eyes.
Jack lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything settle over him. The scratches burned. The sweat was sticky on his skin. Every muscle ached.
But as he lay there beside Hela, her body still warm against his, he couldn't shake the image of Bella.
Smiling at another man.
Moving on.
Jack closed his eyes.