Chapter 145: Jaxon
Chapter 145: Jaxon
The second I pull the car into the empty lot, I feel the tension still thick in the air.
The drive here had been painful. Not because of Erin, not because of the occasional silence, but because Paige was mad at me.
And I fucking hate when Paige is mad at me.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter. That I don’t usually care about shit like this. Feelings, emotions, tension, whatever. People get pissed off at me all the time, and it’s never been my problem. It’s never mattered.
But Paige isn’t just people.
She’s my girl. My stubborn, fiery, too-good-for-this-world girl.
And the idea of her being distant? After everything? After finally getting her back—after feeling her safe for the first time in weeks?
No. I can’t stand it.
But at the same time, there’s this tiny, amused part of me that doesn’t want to smooth it over just yet.
Because Paige is jealous.
My little princess—with all her sharp edges and smart mouth and the kind of loyalty that burns through her veins like fire—is sitting in the back seat, practically vibrating with irritation because I gave a minute amount of attention to Erin.
I feel my lips twitch.
Paige jealous over me?
Fuck if that doesn’t do something to me.
I shut the engine off and step out, moving around the car before Paige can try to get out on her own.
She’s already reaching for the door handle when I pull it open for her, and when her sharp green eyes flick up to meet mine, they’re burning.
Fuck.
She looks so fucking good like this. All attitude. All fire.
I should not be turned on right now, but I am.
I lean down, brushing my lips just over her ear. My voice drops low, rough, meant only for her.
"Lose the attitude, princess, because it does things to me. And now’s not the time."
I pull back in time to see her eyes go wide, a soft, barely noticeable hitch in her breath.
The anger is gone, just like that.
But there’s something else in its place.
Something hotter.
Something dangerous.
Good.
I let go of her hand, smirking as I hand her the crutches. I watch the way she swallows hard, the way she adjusts her grip just to have something to hold on to.
Fucking adorable.
But we don’t have time for this.
I turn to Erin. "This is where we park. The storage unit is five minutes out."
She blinks. "Why aren’t we just pulling into the lot?"
"Too risky." I glance around. "I don’t take chances on shit like this."
Erin hesitates. Then—"Paige can’t walk that far."
I don’t even have time to respond before Paige snaps.
"I’m fine. Let’s just go."
That’s my girl.
I bite back another smirk, watching the way her chin tilts up defiantly, how her grip tightens on the crutches like she’s daring anyone to say otherwise.
I nod. "Let’s move."
We start walking, slow but steady, the sound of crutches tapping against pavement mixing with the rustling wind.
And as we move forward, as I watch Paige push through every step, every ache, every ounce of stubborn strength she has—
I know.
She’s mine.
And I will burn this whole fucking world down before I ever let anyone take her from me again.
The storage facility is dead quiet.
Not in the way that makes my instincts flare up—not the kind of silence that usually means something is off—but the kind that tells me nobody gives a shit about this place.
And that’s exactly why Silas picked it.
Nothing about this place screams high-value stash. It’s the kind of storage facility where people dump old furniture, broken-down treadmills, shit they don’t want to keep in their houses but can’t bring themselves to throw away. The walls are scuffed, the floors dusty, the smell of stale air and cardboard thick in the corridors.
We reach the keypad at the entrance, and I type in the code I memorized from Silas’ file. 4236.
A loud click echoes through the quiet hallway, followed by the slow grind of metal as the doors unlock.
We step inside, and I don’t let myself relax until I scan every corner.
Nothing.
Just rows of storage units stretching into the distance, silent, undisturbed.
Paige is quiet beside me, shifting slightly on her crutches. Erin stays a few steps behind, her posture tense, unsure.
"Second floor," I murmur, jerking my chin toward the stairwell at the far end.
Paige sighs, adjusting her stance. "You’re really making me do stairs?"
"You’re the one who insisted you were fine."
She glares at me, her green eyes sharp and unforgiving, but there’s something else beneath it. Something charged.
That fire.
Fuck, I love that fire.
"You need help?" I ask, softer this time.
She lifts her chin. "No."
That’s my girl.
I hold open the stairwell door, letting her go first, staying close behind in case she stumbles. She doesn’t. Because of course she doesn’t.
By the time we reach the second floor, I take another quick scan.
Still empty.
The only other person in sight is the so-called security guard slouched behind a desk at the far end of the hall. He looks barely old enough to drink, his uniform slightly wrinkled, his chair tilted back like he couldn’t care less about anything.
Silas always thought he was ten steps ahead of everyone, but this? This is sloppy.
"This kid is your big security risk?" Paige mutters, eyes flicking toward him.
"Not everyone hires mercenaries to watch their shit, princess," I reply.
She huffs a quiet laugh, but her focus stays sharp.
We move down the hallway, the metal doors of the storage units lining both sides.
14B. 15B. 16B.
There.
Unit 17B.
Right where it’s supposed to be.
I pause, feeling the weight of the moment settle.
This is it.
Everything Silas stashed away—everything we need to start over—is right behind this door.
And I have every intention of taking it.