Chapter 150: Paige

The first thing I see is the runway, glowing softly in the dark.

It stretches out in front of us, lined with tiny golden lights, flickering against the night sky, guiding the path like a landing strip to a whole new life. But it’s not like the airports I’m used to.

There’s only one runway.

One single stretch of asphalt, surrounded by nothing but open fields and darkness.

The airport itself is tiny, more like a large private hangar than a commercial terminal. It’s quiet, isolated, hidden—exactly the kind of place you go when you don’t want anyone to know you’re leaving.

Jaxon kills the engine, the rumble of the bike fading into the silence.

I sit there for a second, trying to process the fact that we’re actually here, before he moves. He swings a leg over the bike and gets off first, then reaches for me, his hands gripping my waist.

His touch is firm but gentle as he lifts me off the seat like it’s nothing, setting me down carefully before taking the duffel bag from my lap. His hands linger on my waist, steadying me as I shift my weight onto my good leg.

"Got you," he murmurs, his voice low, rough.

I nod, swallowing hard. It’s not like I don’t trust him, it’s just—my body is still weak. And I hate that.

He keeps his arm around me, his grip solid and warm, as we start walking toward the entrance. Every step is a reminder of how much my body still isn’t mine yet. But Jaxon doesn’t let me falter. He keeps pace with me, strong and steady, leading me inside.

The moment we step in, the air changes.

The small terminal is mostly empty, save for a few employees behind the check-in counter. The lighting is dim, the walls lined with old travel posters, signs in different languages, flight schedules flickering on a small digital screen. The hum of fluorescent lights fills the silence, giving the whole place a weird, surreal feel—like we’re standing on the edge of something life-changing.

Jaxon stops and turns to me.

"Sit here," he says, nodding toward a worn-out wooden bench near the entrance. "I’ll handle check-in."

I don’t argue. I’m exhausted.

I sit down, watching as he walks toward the counter.

Even now, after everything, I still can’t take my eyes off him.

He moves with purpose, with that same deadly grace he always has, but there’s something lighter in his posture. Like he’s allowing himself to breathe.

The woman behind the counter greets him, and he pulls out the new IDs we got at the storage unit. I watch as he talks, his voice low and steady, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface of the counter as he hands over the tickets he purchased in advance.

The woman types something into her computer, nods, asks him a few questions. He answers calmly, unfazed, like he’s done this a hundred times before. There’s a moment of back and forth before she finally hands him two printed boarding passes.

And just like that—we’re one step closer.

Jaxon turns back toward me, and as he walks over, he lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair before dropping onto the bench beside me.

I study him, taking in the way his shoulders relax slightly, the way his lips twitch just a little.

A smile.

"Why are you smiling?" I ask, tilting my head at him.

Jaxon turns his head, meeting my gaze.

And then, so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world—

"You’re pretty."

I freeze.

Heat rushes to my face, my stomach flipping over itself. He’s said plenty of things to me before, dangerous things, intense things, possessive things. But this—this is casual.

Like he didn’t even think twice before saying it.

Like it just crossed his mind, and he spoke it aloud.

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

He just smirks at my reaction, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Come on," he says, standing up. "We’ve got about two hours before we board. Let’s get some food."

My stomach grumbles at the mention of food, and I realize just how starving I am.

"Yeah, okay."

We walk through the small terminal until we find a tiny burger joint, tucked into the corner near a vending machine. It’s not much—just a couple of booths, a menu with faded pictures of greasy food, and the faint smell of grilled meat hanging in the air—but right now? It’s perfect.

Jaxon orders for both of us—two bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and sodas.

When our food comes, we take a seat near the window, the runway lights still glowing faintly outside. I pick up a fry, dipping it absently in ketchup before looking at him.

"How’d you find this airport?" I ask.

Jaxon takes a sip of his drink before answering.

"Did my research," he says. "Didn’t want to risk Alderstone’s airport. Too many people, too many eyes."

I nod slowly. Makes sense.

I take another bite, then glance at him again.

"So…" I pause, chewing, then swallow. "Where are we going?"

Jaxon studies me for a second, then takes a bite of his burger.

And then, finally, he says it.

"Portugal."

I freeze mid-bite.

My eyes go wide, my entire body going still.

"Portugal?" I repeat, like I must’ve misheard him. "Why—why Portugal?"

Jaxon chews for a moment, then shrugs, like it’s obvious.

"Because you always wanted to go."

I stare at him.

My mind reels, trying to remember when I told him that. And then—it clicks.

It was a long time ago.

Back when we could barely stand each other.

Back when he acted like I was just a complication, an inconvenience.

Back when I thought he didn’t care.

"That was forever ago," I murmur, shaking my head.

Jaxon’s eyes flicker to mine, something dark and unreadable in them.

I sit there, stunned, speechless, overwhelmed.

He always cared.

Even when he acted like he didn’t.

Even when he pushed me away.

Even when I thought he didn’t want me.

Before I can process it, he smirks slightly, taking another bite.

"Plus," he adds, his voice lazy, casual, "I’m sure you already know Portuguese."

I let out a startled laugh, shaking my head.

"Of course I do," I say, rolling my eyes. "It was one of the first five languages I learned."

Jaxon leans back in his seat, his expression unreadable.

And then, without even looking at me, he says—

"If we’re moving there, you’ll have to teach me."

I stop breathing.

I can’t help it anymore.

I get up, round the table, and throw my arms around him.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice shaking.

Jaxon’s fingers thread through my hair, his touch gentle, warm, grounding.

"I can’t believe you’d do this," I murmur, pressing my forehead to his. "That you’d run away with me. Start over. Leave everything behind."

Jaxon tilts my chin up, his grey eyes burning into mine.

"I’d follow you anywhere, Paige."