Chapter 149: Paige

Chapter 149: Paige
Jaxon is furious.

I can feel it in the tense, coiled energy in his body, in the sharp way his hands clench and unclench, in the low, deadly curses rolling off his tongue like a warning. His anger is alive, simmering beneath the surface, ready to explode.

"These fucking assholes never give up," he growls, his voice like gravel, his breathing uneven from the sprint through the storage facility. "They don’t know when to stay dead."

His hands flex at his sides, jaw locked so tight I swear I hear his teeth grind. He’s frustrated—not afraid, never afraid—but fucking pissed.

He mutters something else under his breath, too quiet for me to catch, before shaking his head like he’s snapping himself back into focus. Then, suddenly, he turns to me, his grey eyes blazing with intensity.

"Time for Plan C."

Before I can even open my mouth, he shoves the duffel bag into my arms, and a second later, I’m airborne.

A gasp rips from my throat as my feet leave the ground. Jaxon lifts me effortlessly, like I weigh absolutely nothing, like my cast isn’t a huge inconvenience, like carrying me isn’t even a struggle for him.

And then—he runs.

Fast. Really fast.

The world blurs around me as Jaxon moves with inhuman speed, cutting through tight alleyways, winding through the narrow spaces between old buildings, dodging obstacles with the precision of someone who’s spent his entire life outrunning death.

His arms are strong, unyielding, his grip secure as he cradles me against his chest like I’m something precious.

Like he’d rather die than drop me.

The wind tears past us, cold and sharp against my skin, but Jaxon is warm, steady. My pulse is pounding, my breathing shallow—not out of fear, but out of the sheer shock of how fast he’s moving, how powerful he is.

Even injured, bruised, running on adrenaline and fury, he carries me like it’s nothing.

I don’t know if it’s the fear, the rush of the chase, or the fact that he’s ridiculously strong, but something inside me twists.

I should not be turned on right now.

We twist down another alley, and I try to focus.

"Jaxon—" I start, but before I can finish, a sound echoes behind us.

Footsteps. Fast, heavy.

My stomach drops.

I twist slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder—

Men.

Two—no, three.

They’re closing in fast, and when one of them reaches into his jacket, I realize exactly what’s about to happen.

"They followed us!" I gasp, tightening my grip around Jaxon’s shoulders. "Jaxon, they—"

And then I see it.

The glint of metal.

A gun.

Pointed right at Jaxon’s back.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.

My body moves on instinct, tightening around Jaxon, shifting just enough to cover his back, my mind screaming that if they fire—if they pull that trigger, I’ll be the one to take the hit.

But before the shot goes off, Jaxon takes a hard turn.

And suddenly, I see it.

The motorcycle.

Sleek, black, parked in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, almost invisible in the dim glow of the streetlights.

Jaxon slows just enough to set me down, moving so fast that my head spins.

"Sorry, princess," he murmurs, climbing onto the bike, fingers gripping the handles. "No helmet on this one."

I barely have time to react before he’s pulling me onto the seat behind him.

There’s no hesitation, no time to breathe—the second I’m on, he kicks the engine to life, and we’re gone.

The roar of the motorcycle cuts through the night as we shoot forward, the back tire screeching against the pavement before gripping, launching us into the street.

Gunfire explodes behind us.

I flinch hard, my arms tightening around Jaxon’s torso, my fingers digging into his shirt.

But the bullets miss.

They’re too late.

We’re already too far ahead.

The wind howls around us, whipping through my hair, sending chills down my spine. The night air is cold, biting at my skin, but I barely feel it.

Because all I can focus on is Jaxon.

The solid strength of him, the way his muscles shift beneath my hands as he leans into the turns, navigating the road like he was born to do this.

The world around us is a blur of streetlights, neon signs, and dark alleyways. My heart is slamming against my ribs, my breath coming in quick, uneven gasps.

"We’re not out of trouble yet!" he shouts over the wind, his voice cutting through the rush of speed.

I turn my head slightly, looking behind us.

No cars. Not yet.

But that doesn’t mean we’re safe.

"They might have others looking for us," he continues, twisting the throttle harder, making the bike roar beneath us. "I’m not stopping until we’re clear."

I don’t argue.

I don’t tell him that I trust him to get us out of this.

I just hold on.

And let him take me away.

After what feels like an hour or more, he finally slows down, guiding the motorcycle toward a small gas station on the side of the road.

The neon lights buzz dimly, flickering above the pumps, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. There’s nothing but darkness and trees beyond the lot, the silence of the night stretching out like an empty void.

Jaxon pulls up to one of the pumps and kills the engine.

"Gotta fill up," he says, his voice rougher than usual, since he hasn’t spoken in a while. "You ever pumped gas before?"

I blink at him. "Seriously?"

One side of his mouth quirks up, but there’s exhaustion in his eyes, hidden just beneath the smirk.

"Might as well teach you, princess. Never know when you’ll need to do it yourself."

He gets off the bike and grabs the gas nozzle, fitting it into the tank before guiding my hands over his. His grip is warm, solid, and when he finally lets go, I realize I’m still holding my breath.

"Hold it steady," he instructs. "Don’t let go until it clicks."

I nod, keeping my fingers wrapped around the handle as I watch the numbers crawl higher and higher on the screen.

Jaxon steps back, running a tired hand through his hair, then gestures toward the convenience store.

"I’m gonna go pay. You good here?"

"Yeah," I murmur, watching him disappear inside.

The moment he’s gone, the silence presses in.

I glance around the lot—empty. The fluorescent lights hum softly, casting everything in a dull, flickering glow. I don’t know where we are, how far we’ve come, or how much longer we have to go.

But something about standing here, alone in the quiet, makes me realize just how far away we are from Alderstone.

From the Black Vipers.

From Silas.

The pump clicks, signaling that the tank is full. I exhale, releasing the nozzle just as Jaxon steps back outside.

He’s holding something in his hand.

A small, plastic-wrapped package.

I raise an eyebrow as he walks over, ripping it open with his teeth before handing it to me.

"Figured you might be hungry."

I look down at it—a chocolate-covered protein bar.

It’s small, insignificant, but it’s also Jaxon.

Jaxon, who noticed I hadn’t eaten in hours. Jaxon, who always thinks of things like this.

I take a bite, the sweetness melting on my tongue, and he watches me as he finishes putting the gas cap back on.

Then, instead of getting back on the bike right away, he sits down on the seat—but facing me.

His knees brush against mine, his hands resting on his thighs, his eyes locked on me in that way that always makes my breath catch.

"Sorry about your crutches," he says after a moment, tilting his head slightly.

I give a small laugh, swallowing my bite. "It’s fine. Not like I was attached to them."

Jaxon smirks. "Yeah, well, they were attached to you."

"Hilarious."

I roll my eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it.

For the first time in what feels like forever, we’re just here.

No gunfire. No running. Just us.

I glance up at him again, watching the way the neon lights from the store cast shadows across his sharp features. He looks tired, worn down, but still strong, steady—like he could keep going forever if he had to.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask, my voice softer.

Jaxon leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, lingering for a second longer than he needs to.

"You’ll see," he murmurs. Then, quieter, "Once we get there, it’s over. We’ll be fine."

We’ll be fine.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I want to believe him.

I do.

I want to believe that this is almost over, that we’re close to getting away from all of this, that the danger isn’t breathing down our necks anymore.

I offer him the last bite of the protein bar, and instead of taking it from my hand, he leans forward, catching my fingers with his mouth as he takes it between his teeth.

His eyes stay on mine the whole time.

My stomach tightens.

Fucking hell.

He winks, chewing slowly before turning back around, grabbing the handles of the bike again.

"Let’s go."

And just like that, we’re gone again.