Chapter 70 After the Red Light
Jenna's POV
“Jenna.”
The voice pulled me up like a rope out of dark water.
“Jenna, hey—eyes on me.”
I pried one eye open. The ceiling above me wasn’t the Moon Den’s smoke-stained tin; it was white, smooth, and too clean. A soft lamp glowed beside a couch I was definitely sprawled on, and something warm and heavy covered me from chin to toes.
“Where—” My throat rasped like I’d been chewing gravel. “What… happened?”
A cool hand slid under my neck, lifting me gently. A glass touched my lip. “Small sips,” the voice said.
I drank. Water tasted like life.
My vision steadied enough to find the face leaning over me: Jaxon.
“There you are,” he said, relief loosening his mouth into something like a smile. “You scared the hell out of us.”
I blinked again, taking in the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows, rain-threaded city beyond. A coffee table stacked with neat files. A kitchen that looked like a magazine ad. “This isn’t my apartment.”
“No,” Jaxon said. “Kier’s penthouse. You’re safe.”
I tried to sit up. The room tilted. Jaxon pressed a palm to my shoulder. “Easy. You were drugged.”
“Drugged?” My brain bounced back to the bar. Rhea . “How?”
“Someone slipped something into your glass while Rhea had your attention,” he said. “We lost communication and we came in.”
“You stormed the Den?” I croaked.
“Storm is generous,” he said dryly. “We created an urgent plumbing situation and cut the lights. Isaac pulled you. Emma jammed the side entrance. Kier would’ve set the place on fire if I’d let him.”
“Where is he?”
“Down by the river,” Jaxon said. “We got an address off what you got from Rhea. He took two teams to scout the warehouses. I stayed to make sure you woke up.”
Heat climbed up my neck that had nothing to do with the blanket. “You didn’t have to—”
“Yeah,” he said, easy and final. “I did.”
He shifted, propping me up with pillows I hadn’t noticed, then tucked the blanket tighter around my legs like I was a burrito he was determined to keep warm. The smell of coffee drifted from the kitchen. An ice pack landed gently against my temple; I hadn’t realized it hurt until the cold soothed it.
“You’re very… prepared,” I muttered.
“Occupational hazard,” he said. “Also, I have a sister who thinks medical advice is a rumor.”
“Sable,” I whispered, and the room tugged sideways. “Rhea—she—” I pushed through the fog, catching the pieces and laying them out between us. “She admitted she helped Sam.”
Jaxon’s jaw ticked. “We know.”
“She also told me to tell Kier he owes her a favor, and that next time she wants to meet the wolf, not me.” I tried to laugh; it came out shaky. “Apparently I’ve got too much heart.”
“That’s not a flaw,” Jaxon said.
“Feels like one,” I said, and meant it.
He watched me for a beat, weighing something invisible. Then he set the glass down, knelt so we were eye level, and rested his forearms on the couch cushion. “Listen to me. Rhea runs the underground in this city. She doesn’t breathe without knowing who’s selling air.”
I sank back into the pillows. The city glittered past him like a thousand tiny cameras. “Do you think she knows where Sable is?”
His gaze shifted to the window, then back to me. “Yes.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “But she’s being smart. If Kier tears through her world, she loses a lot. If she feeds him crumbs, she buys time.”
“For what?”
“To pick a side,” he said softly. “Or to see who wins.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“For not letting me get eaten.”
He smiled, weary but bright. “Sable would’ve killed me if I did. And you made it easy.”
I snorted. “Sure. I excel at collapsing in public.”
“You excel at walking into a room that smells like death and getting the most dangerous person to talk to you for five minutes,” he said. “Most wolves can’t buy that with fangs.”
His praise shouldn’t have felt like oxygen, but it did. I felt my face heat and immediately wanted to hide under the blanket like a kid.
“Don’t,” he said, reading my mind and tugging the blanket back down an inch. “Own it. You were brave.”
“Brave is a euphemism for stupid,” I mumbled, quoting myself from an hour ago.
“Sometimes,” he said. “Tonight it was necessary.” He paused. “And… impressive.”
The blush hit harder. I tried to roll my eyes and ended up smiling, which I hated. “You’re nice,” I muttered, as if it were an accusation.
He grinned. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my brand.”
We sat in comfortable quiet for a minute when a buzz on the table made us both jump. Jaxon reached for the cellphone and answered with a low, “Yeah.”
I watched his face while he listened—how his eyes stayed level, how his shoulders squared, how he didn’t reveal the shape of the news until he hung up.
“Anything?” I asked, heart in my throat.
“Teams found the smaller warehouse,” he said. “Empty.”
My stomach sank. “I hoped this was it.”
He stood, crossed to the kitchen, and returned with a steaming mug. The smell hit me a second before he did. “Chicken broth,” he said. “Doctor Isaac’s orders.”
“Your head of security is also a chef?”
“He’s a worrier with a machete collection,” Jaxon said. “This is how he copes.”
I took a sip. Heat climbed through me, gentle and steady. “You really stayed just to babysit me?”
His eyes softened. “I stayed because you’re part of this now. You're important to Sable so you're important to me."
This time the blush climbed all the way to my ears. I hid behind the mug.
“Sleep,” he said finally, when the mug was empty. “I’ll be right here.”
“You’ve got better places to be.”
“Not tonight,” he said, sitting down on the sofa next to me. “Kier will call if he breathes near trouble. Emma’s on the feeds. My job is to make sure you don’t try to prove a point by standing up too fast.”
“I would never,” I lied.
He chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”
I let my eyes close. The couch softened into a cloud. The city hummed like a lullaby I didn’t want and absolutely needed.
Just before the dark took me, I heard him say, almost to himself, “You were brave, Jenna. She’d be proud.”
My throat tightened. I didn’t ask who he meant. Sable was the only answer.