Chapter 144: Paige

Chapter 144: Paige
The cold air outside is sharp, biting against my skin like a warning. The sky is a dull gray, thick clouds stretching across the horizon, making the whole world feel quieter, heavier. A fresh breeze rolls through the parking lot, crisp with the scent of autumn, but none of it is enough to keep my pulse from spiking when my eyes land on the car waiting at the curb.

More specifically—when I see the redhead in the passenger seat.

My stomach twists, a strange, foreign heat curling in my chest, something I don’t even want to put a name to. My fingers tighten around the crutches as I blink, forcing myself to breathe, forcing myself to not react.

Why am I mad?

This is stupid.

I’ve never been the jealous type. Never. I don’t get irrational over things. I don’t obsess over people or fixate on things that don’t matter. I’m not that kind of girl. But then again, I’ve never been with Jaxon before.

Never had to watch him interact with other women. Never had to be out in the world with him in a way that made us feel normal, like a real couple, like something more than just survival and chaos and blood.

And now? Now I’m standing here, stomach in knots, because there’s a girl sitting in the car next to him, like she belongs there.

I inhale sharply, forcing my shoulders to relax.

No. I am not going to be this person.

I can’t start hating other women just because… what? They talk to him? They try to help us?

It’s not Erin’s fault that she’s here. It’s part of the plan. And yet, my blood still simmers, a heat under my skin that I don’t know what to do with.

As we approach the car, Erin steps out, offering a polite, hesitant smile.

"Hey," she says, nodding at both of us before holding out her hand to me.

I blink at it for half a second before shaking it, forcing a small smile onto my face. "Thanks for helping us."

"Of course," Erin says, her voice light, friendly.

Then, just as quickly as she got out, she slides back into the passenger seat without a second thought.

My eyebrows twitch slightly, my jaw tightening before I can catch myself.

So now I’m supposed to sit in the back?

I glance at Jaxon, expecting him to say something, to fix this, to maybe tell her to move. But he just shrugs, leans down, and presses a quick kiss to the top of my head before walking to the driver’s seat like nothing is wrong.

I exhale slowly.

Fine.

It’s fine.

I bite down my irritation and slide into the backseat, adjusting my crutches next to me as I shut the door a little harder than I probably should have. I tell myself to let it go. This isn’t a big deal. We have a job to do, and this is not the time to be petty.

But still.

I hate that I have to sit back here.

If I had it my way, we wouldn’t even be in the same car as Erin. We’d be in a separate vehicle, keeping our distance, making sure we weren’t walking into a setup. But we have to stick to the plan. Jaxon’s plan.

And that means I have to deal with it.

The car pulls onto the road, the drive stretching ahead of us for a good forty-five minutes. I settle into the seat, shifting slightly to get comfortable, but every time I glance up, I see Erin. Sitting right next to him.

And it bothers me.

The drive is too quiet at first, filled only with the sound of the tires rolling against the pavement and the occasional blinker click when Jaxon switches lanes. The tension in my chest is uncomfortable, but I refuse to let it show.

Then Erin clears her throat.

"So… Jaxon," she says, glancing at him. "Where’d you get this car? It’s nice."

Jaxon keeps his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. "Rented it."

Erin nods. "You think it’s fast enough if we have to make a run for it?"

"It’s fast enough."

"And you trust it? No trackers or anything sketchy?"

"Checked it twice."

Erin hums, tilting her head slightly. "Guess that’s why you’ve survived this long. You don’t miss details."

Jaxon doesn’t respond to that, and I cross my arms, shifting my gaze out the window.

Erin doesn’t seem to notice my silence. She keeps talking, asking Jaxon question after question, and he answers all of them.

Not in long sentences, not in a friendly tone, but he answers.

"How’s the new phone working out?"

"Fine."

"You got it under a fake name?"

"Obviously."

"What’s the alias?"

"Not telling you."

Erin laughs a little, shaking her head. "Fair enough."

I clench my jaw, keeping my focus on the trees flashing past us.

Why does she sound so damn comfortable around him?

Why does she act like she knows him?

And why is he actually responding to her?

I swallow down the irritation bubbling up in my chest, forcing myself to breathe.

I trust Jaxon.

I know I do.

But that doesn’t mean I like the way this feels.

A few more minutes pass before Erin finally turns around in her seat to look at me.

"What about you, Paige?" she asks. "How’s the recovery going?"

I meet her gaze, forcing a neutral expression onto my face. "It’s fine."

She waits for me to say more.

I don’t.

She nods, then lets out a light, almost awkward laugh. "Wow. Not a very chatty bunch, huh?" She glances back at Jaxon. "You were more talkative at lunch than you are now."

The air shifts.

A sharp spike of anger shoots through my veins.

Talkative?

Jaxon?

I snap my head toward him, my glare burning into the side of his face.

And when I glance at him through the rearview mirror, he’s already looking.

Like he knew I was going to react to that.

His storm-gray eyes meet mine, calm, unreadable, and he gives a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

A warning.

I don’t care.

I want an answer.

Because when the hell has Jaxon Steele ever been talkative with anyone?

He shifts his focus back to the road before answering Erin, his tone flat, final.

"We had things to go over at lunch. Now we just want to get this done."

Something in his voice makes it clear—this conversation is over.

Erin nods slowly, processing his words, then finally stops talking.

I don’t say anything either.

I just keep my arms crossed, my body rigid, my pulse hammering a little too hard in my chest.

Jaxon doesn’t look at me again.

But his fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel.

And I know he can feel everything I’m not saying.