He clenches his jaw as if he’s trying to find the words. “That girl,” he grinds out finally, “is the one who took me home after the fight. Fuck! I can’t believe it’s the same fucking girl. Shit. She must have been trying to use me somehow, to—”
The anger on his face startles me and scares me a little too. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so angry. “I want to fucking kill her,” he growls, his teeth grinding. “But I’ve got to get you out of here.”
“What about the fight?” I glance nervously towards the door. I’m willing to bet that these guys won’t exactly be fond of Jaxon leaving without taking his spot on the card. But I also can’t imagine going back in there. Not with her there, not wondering if the men who violated me are in there too, if they’re part of—
I spin around suddenly, bending over and gagging, dry-heaving as I try not to fall to my knees on the pavement. “Oh my god,” I whisper, clutching my stomach. “The men who hurt me. They were part of—oh god. No. No.”
“We thought they might be.” Jaxon’s voice is grim from behind me. “But the president swore to us that they had nothing to do with it. We went to the club—before we found you.”
“I can’t—” I gag again, feeling as if the world is spinning around me. I want to say that I can’t believe it. But I can, of course. The entire reason I stayed in the manor in the first place, instead of trying to run, is because the Devil’s Sons want to finish making my mother and I pay for what my father did. But I thought I had protection. I thought that belonging to Cayde and Dean kept me safe, and my mother, too. And even if they’d gotten their hands on us, I’d never have let myself imagine that they would do the things they’d done to me. Killing us would have been one thing. But the way they hurt me—
I have to stop thinking about it, or I’m going to go crazy.
Jaxon seems to see that, too. He grabs my elbow again, gently steering me away from the warehouse and back towards where he parked the bike. “Don’t worry about the fight,” he says calmly. “The other guy will win by default. He’ll be pissed he didn’t get a fight, but at least he gets to walk away clean. And if there’s money that needs to be paid to get me out of any trouble with it, I’ll pay it.”
It’s worth it to keep you safe.He doesn’t say that aloud, but he doesn’t have to. I know that’s what he’s thinking, and it sends a warm flutter through my stomach, despite my panic and fear.
Normally I’d shake him off, insist on going back in, not wanting to lose face. But part of being brave is knowing when something is too much to handle, and right now, I can’t bear to see her face. Not even for a moment.
So I get on the back of the bike with Jaxon, clinging to his waist as he revs the engine, breathing in the smell of leather and the warmth of his skin as he flicks on the headlights, turning onto the street to drive us away from the warehouse.
I don’t know where he’s going, and I don’t ask. But as the road whips away beneath us, I can tell that we’re going closer and closer to the edge of Blackmoor. My pulse rises up in my throat, choking me with anxiety as Jaxon speeds up even more.
I’ve never been outside of Blackmoor, not even once in my whole life. Just the thought of it seems terrifying, as much as I’ve dreamed about leaving, because I know the potential consequences. And for Jaxon to take me only amplifies those, for both him and me.
But he stops just before we reach the city limits. I feel as if I’m able to breathe again as he turns down a side road, down what looks like a shabby residential area very close to the edge of town. The bike slows, and he turns down a narrow street, coming to a stop in front of a stone building that appears to be a bar, from the neon signs in the windows. It’s fairly dead, though, and I glance nervously at Jaxon as he kills the lights and the engine, parking the bike around the side.
“What are we doing here?” I chew my lower lip, looking at him. “Jaxon, I—”
He shakes his head. “Let’s go inside.”
I’m not sure that’s a good idea, but I follow him anyway. For all the ups and downs between us, I trust Jaxon not to let anything happen to me. And I believe that whatever we’re doing here, he’s got some reason for it.
The inside of the bar is dark, dimly lit by a couple of lamps hanging over pool tables in the back and the light over the bar. The bartender is cleaning glasses, his back to us, and Jaxon barely glances over as he leads me to a corner, far away from the window, where we’re mostly shrouded in darkness. No one really even bothers to look our way, which is strangely comforting, and I suspect at least part of the reason Jaxon has brought me here.
“Wait here.” He glances at me as I slide onto one of the high-top stools. “Beer?”
“Something stronger. I don’t care what.” My heart has stopped racing a little, but my nerves still feel shattered, my stomach twisted up in knots. I don’t really know why we’re here, but I’m glad to be away from the warehouse, away from that girl, some space in between me and the worst night of my life. This place doesn’t even really feel like Blackmoor, and I’m glad for that too, because there’s nowhere I want to be less right now.
Jaxon returns with two beers and two shot glasses filled to the brim with some dark liquid. “It’s just Jameson, but it’ll do the trick,” he says, pushing it towards me. “Drink it down; it’ll help.”
The burn of the whiskey going down my throat just reminds me of the night of the party, and I half-choke on it, coughing as I force it down. It burns all the way down into my stomach, and I reach for the beer, taking a deep draught of it and coating my tongue with the yeasty sweetness, covering up the fiery bite of the liquor.
“Why are we here?” I manage when I’ve swallowed another gulp of the beer. Jaxon has taken his shot of whiskey too, and now he’s casually holding the beer bottle by the neck, surveying the room. For being one of the Blackmoor heirs, he oddly looks as if he fits in here, more so than anywhere else I’ve seen him, really. He seems made for dark bar corners, smoky rooms, leaning over pool tables and drinking whiskey, with dark eyes, a leather jacket, and sharp edges.
I want him. With the alcohol starting to soften the feeling of panic in my gut, I’m left with a desperate need to feel somethingelseinstead, something better. Something good. Something that can make me forget all the pain and all the fear.
Jaxon doesn’t seem to notice, though. “I thought we could use an out-of-the-way place to talk,” he says slowly, taking a sip from his beer. “Somewhere that we won’t be bothered. No one really comes here. To be honest, I’m not even entirely sure how it stays open.”
I pick at the label on my bottle. “What do you want to talk about?”
He lets out a long, slow breath. “I don’t want to push you, Athena. But if the Devil’s Sons were the ones who kidnapped you, this is worse than we thought. You living at Blackmoor House, being under the protection of the families—that should have done just that…protected you. There’s something deeper going on if they dared to come after you.”
“I know.” My voice is tight and hushed. I take another deep drink of my beer, not really because I’m enjoying it, but more because the faintly fuzzy feeling it’s giving me is pleasant. “That girl—Jaxon, what really happened with her? What did she do? Or say?”
“Her name is Pixie.” Jaxon can’t quite seem to meet my eyes as he says it.
Pixie. “That’s a fucking stupid name,” I blurt out, and his mouth twitches as he laughs, more of a short, sharp snort than anything else.