Chapter 153: Paige

The seatbelt sign dings overhead, and I swear my heart skips a beat.

We’re landing.

The wheels of the plane screech against the runway, and for a second, my stomach flips, the force of the landing pushing me back into my seat. I let out a slow breath, gripping the armrest with one hand and Jaxon’s thigh with the other. His muscles tense slightly under my fingers, but when I glance at him, he’s calm. Relaxed, even. Like he’s already two steps ahead of everything, like he’s already scanned the exits, memorized the layout of the airport, planned our next move before we even take the first step.

He notices me looking and tilts his head slightly. "Nervous?"

I shake my head, even though I kind of am. Not in the something-bad-is-about-to-happen way. But in the holy-shit-this-is-actually-real way.

"Excited," I correct, and my voice is softer than I expect.

Jaxon studies me for a moment, his gray eyes steady, then he reaches over and tugs gently on the ends of my hair. "Good."

The moment the flight attendants announce that we can start deplaning, people shoot up from their seats. The overhead bins pop open one after the other, the sound of zippers and shuffling bags filling the cabin. Jaxon doesn’t rush. He just sits back, waiting, watching.

I glance out the window. It’s still dark out, the deep navy sky only just starting to shift into something softer, the very first hints of morning creeping in. But even from here, even from the tiny airplane window, I can see the lights of the city sprawling out in the distance.

Portugal.

We actually made it.

My chest tightens with something I can’t quite name, something that makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

A fresh start. A new life.

Jaxon nudges me lightly, and I turn to see him standing, our duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Ready, princess?"

I nod quickly, sucking in a deep breath. "Yeah. Let’s go."

Stepping into the airport is overwhelming.

There’s so much noise. People talking, laughing, dragging their suitcases behind them. The sound of heels clicking against the tile, the scent of coffee and pastries hanging in the air, the low hum of announcements being made over the intercom.

It feels so… normal.

No one is watching us. No one is chasing us. No one knows who we are.

I keep waiting for that familiar tension to creep into my muscles, for that tightness in my chest that tells me something is wrong—but it doesn’t come.

Instead, I just feel… light.

Like I can actually breathe.

Jaxon walks slightly ahead of me, his shoulders loose but his movements always purposeful. He has this way of moving—controlled, precise, confident—like even now, even in an entirely different country, he’s in control of the situation. I don’t think he even realizes it, but people move out of his way without him even having to say a word.

We make our way through the passport control checkpoint.

The officer takes my fake passport, flipping through the pages, eyes scanning over the information. I hold my breath. Wait.

Jaxon is relaxed beside me, like he already knows there won’t be a problem.

The officer glances up, his gaze flicking between me and the passport one last time, then stamps it and waves me through.

I exhale, then move forward as Jaxon hands over his.

Same process. Same agonizingly long pause. Then—the stamp.

We’re in.

Officially.

The second we step away from the checkpoint, Jaxon’s hand finds the small of my back. A light touch, but enough to steady me.

"See? Told you we’d be fine," he murmurs, just for me to hear.

I roll my eyes but can’t help but smile. "Yeah, yeah. You’re always right."

He smirks. "Good girl."

I shove his arm lightly, but my cheeks burn all the same.

And then, finally—

We step outside.

The moment the sliding doors open, a wave of warm air hits me. Not the suffocating kind, not humid or sticky—just perfect. The kind of warmth that settles into your skin, that feels like something you could sink into, like it belongs to you.

I stop walking.

I don’t mean to. But I do.

Jaxon stops too, standing next to me, looking down with the smallest hint of curiosity in his eyes.

But I can’t move yet.

Because this?

This is real.

The city stretches out before us, lights flickering, streets lined with old buildings, tiled rooftops, little balconies with wrought iron railings. The sky above is still a deep, endless navy, but on the horizon, there’s the faintest glow—morning creeping closer.

I hear cars, horns in the distance, people laughing, talking. I smell sea salt in the air, carried in by the wind from the coast. Everything feels so alive.

Alderstone is gone.

The Black Vipers. The Crimson Circle. Silas. Tobias. Gone.

It’s just us.

"Paige?"

Jaxon’s voice is soft. Different.

I turn to look at him, and for once, his gray eyes don’t look guarded. Don’t look cold.

He looks… at peace.

And when he reaches for me, his fingers sliding between mine, I don’t hesitate.

I squeeze his hand.

"We made it."

And for the first time in a long time, I finally believe it.

The streets of Lisbon stretch out before us, alive even at this hour. Warm streetlights glow golden against the cobblestones, casting long shadows over the quiet roads. The air feels different here—lighter.

I turn to Jaxon, my fingers still laced with his, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

"What now?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He gives me that mysterious, knowing smirk, the one that drives me insane because it means he knows something I don’t.

"You’ll see."

He lifts his free hand and signals to a cab parked further down the road.

Within seconds, the driver spots us and pulls up to the curb, the faint hum of the engine breaking the comfortable silence between us. The taxi is older, slightly worn, but the second it stops, Jaxon moves without hesitation, always three steps ahead of everything.

He opens the door and helps me in first, his hands steady on my waist as I settle into the seat. Then, he slides in next to me, the duffel bag securely in his grip.

The driver glances at us through the rearview mirror, his gaze flicking between Jaxon and me before nodding slightly. “Para onde?”

"To where?" I repeat for him.

Jaxon gives him a name. A location I don’t recognize.

And just like that, we’re off.

The cab pulls away from the curb, the tires rolling smoothly over the uneven pavement, and I press my forehead lightly against the window, watching as the city blurs past us.

I have no idea where we’re going.