Chapter 146: Paige

Chapter 146: Paige
The second Jaxon punches in the code, the metal door rumbles open, revealing the contents of the storage unit.

My first instinct isn’t to look inside. It’s to look at Erin.

She stands just behind Jaxon, arms crossed, face unreadable.

And I can’t help but wonder—why is she even here?

She could have waited outside. Or down the hall, near the stairwell. It’s not like she needs to be in here, looking at everything we’re about to take.

The thought itches at the back of my mind.

Jaxon had told me that anything we didn’t take, we’d offer to Erin. It only seemed fair—she helped us get here, helped us find the files, helped Jaxon plan.

But now, standing here, with the dusty scent of old paper and metal filling my nose, something doesn’t sit right.

Because Erin hasn’t asked for anything.

And that’s weird.

This is a lot of money. A lot of resources. And if Silas really was her on-again, off-again boyfriend, wouldn’t she feel at least a little entitled to some of it?

Even if she’s mad at him, even if she feels betrayed—any normal person would want a cut.

But she hasn’t mentioned it once.

I push the thought aside—for now—because Jaxon is already moving deeper into the unit, his sharp eyes scanning everything inside.

The first thing I notice is the file cabinets, tall and rusted at the edges. Next to them is a large black safe, locked tight. And in the corner, a big, metal storage box sits against the wall.

Jaxon heads straight for the file cabinets, pulling open one of the drawers with a metallic scrape.

Inside, stacks of documents, folders, and IDs are packed tightly together.

He flips through them quickly, his hands moving with purpose. He knows exactly what he’s looking for.

"Bingo," he mutters under his breath.

I step closer, peering over his shoulder.

Inside the drawer, dozens of fake IDs are lined up, each one neatly laminated and organized by name.

At least a third of them belong to Silas—variations of his face with different names, different backgrounds, different cover stories.

But the rest?

I frown.

They’re not all Silas.

There are random people—men and women, all different ages, all different ethnicities.

And then there’s one that makes my stomach drop.

A man with sharp features. Gray eyes. A face I know better than my own.

Jaxon.

I glance at him, watching his expression carefully. He barely reacts—just pulls the ID out and stares at it for half a second before slipping it into his pocket.

"Why would Silas have fake IDs of you?" I ask quietly.

Jaxon’s jaw ticks. "To cover his tracks."

I blink at him, confused.

"Silas was a planner. If someone needed an escape route, if they needed a new life, he had IDs for almost every kind of profile. My guess? If he ever needed to frame someone, fake a deal, or make someone disappear, he had the paperwork ready to go."

The thought makes my skin crawl.

He had a backup plan for everyone.

Even Jaxon.

Jaxon keeps flipping through the IDs, his movements steady, calculated.

Then—he pauses.

He holds one up, studying it closely, then turns it toward me.

"This is yours."

I take it, examining the details.

The picture is… close, but not exact. The hair is a shade off, the jawline a little sharper.

"It doesn’t look that much like me," I murmur.

Jaxon tilts his head, considering. "It could pass."

And the way he says it—the finality in his voice, the certainty—makes me realize what he means.

This is who I’ll be after we leave Alderstone.

Jaxon moves to the safe, his movements steady, methodical.

He kneels in front of it, fingers brushing against the dial, twisting it a few times with the ease of someone who’s done this before. The soft metallic clicks echo in the silence, each turn bringing us closer to whatever Silas had stashed away inside.

Erin shifts behind me, and I feel her eyes on us, but I don’t turn around.

Instead, I focus on Jaxon—on the way his jaw tightens slightly, his eyes sharp, unwavering.

Another twist. Another click.

And then—

A low, mechanical thunk.

The safe unlocks.

Jaxon pulls open the heavy door, and for the first time since stepping into this unit, I forget how to breathe.

Because inside—

Money.

So much money.

Stacks of crisp bills are packed inside, bundled with rubber bands, some spilling onto the metal shelf beneath them. Hundreds. Fifties. Twenties. All piled together, enough to make my head spin.

I don’t even realize I’ve taken a step forward until Jaxon lets out a low whistle, reaching inside to grab a stack, flipping through the bills quickly before stuffing it into his bag.

"Holy shit," I murmur.

Jaxon doesn’t respond.

He just keeps moving, pulling out stack after stack, shoving them into the duffel bag like he already knew this was what we’d find.

And maybe he did.

Maybe this had been Silas’ real treasure all along—his safety net, his way out if he ever needed to disappear.

Too bad it’s ours now.

I force myself to snap out of it, to focus, but my eyes catch on something else—

A row of debit cards.

They’re lined up neatly, each one labeled with a name that matches the spreadsheets from Silas’ files.

Money already loaded onto them.

My first instinct is temptation.

Debit cards mean easy transactions, means we wouldn’t have to carry all of this in cash. But before I can even reach for one, Jaxon shuts the safe door with a quiet thud.

"We’re not touching those," he says, voice firm.

I frown. "Why not?"

"Too easy to trace," he mutters, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Cash is safer. Until we’re completely off the grid, we don’t risk it."

I exhale, nodding.

He’s right. As tempting as those cards are, using them would be a mistake.

Jaxon had told me at the hospital that once we got our fake IDs, he’d set up new accounts under those names.

That way, we wouldn’t be walking around with hundreds of thousands in cash all the time.

But that would come later.

Right now?

We take what we can.