Chapter 5
5
you need to calm down
The espresso machine let out a faint hiss as I wiped a streak of caramel syrup from the counter. It was the end of a long day, and I was more than ready to get off my feet.
Wednesday—my fave employee—shrugged into her coat near the door.
Her name might’ve belonged in a gothic franchise, but her aesthetic screamed sorority brunch with her passion for pink and her gravity-defying ponytail.
She lifted a hand as if to wave to me, but then she paused, tilting her head subtly toward the shadowed corner where Jax Thorne sat.
“What about him?” she mouthed.
I rolled my eyes, tossing the rag into the sink as I came around the counter to lock the door behind her. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I’ll let him know this isn’t a hotel.”
Wednesday smirked, and then she high-tailed it out before I changed my mind about letting her go early—something about a date with a boy she met online.
At least she’d agreed to share her location with me. She knew I watched too many true crime shows to be okay with her plan if she didn’t.
But honestly, it seemed like people were looking for love everywhere I turned. Couples came in by the busload and ordered my now-perfected Valentine’s Day specials, and every time I turned around, they were kissing or canoodling over their lattes with hearts drawn in the foam.
Even Chris went on a date last night with someone he met at the grocery store—an adorable place for a meet-cute if you asked me.
So, even if I was too busy for anything other than dreaming about my secret crush(es), I couldn’t really blame my girl Wednesday for wanting to leave early for a hot date.
I locked up behind her, the satisfying click echoing in the now-empty space.
Er—almost empty.
Despite Wednesday’s intentionally loud goodbye—her attempt to tell Jax he was overstaying his welcome—he’d remained oblivious to the world, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
I studied him for a moment, the glow from his screen highlighting his sharp jaw and the crease between his brows. Whatever had him so engrossed clearly mattered—so important that it kept him from noticing the shop closing up around him.
Maybe he was a poet.
Or a mystery novelist.
Or planning a heist.
With that tortured-soul aura he clung to? Any of the above felt plausible.
I sighed, and instead of continuing down that road to nowhere, I busied myself with the rest of the front-of-house closing duties while he worked.
His quiet presence didn’t bother me.
Oddly enough, it made me feel... safe.
After I finished up behind the counter, I made my way to the back room and flicked on the small TV mounted in the corner—desperate for some kind of white noise. Then, I settled at my chic but battered desk, skimming the invoices I needed to pay before they became my problem tomorrow.
As a commercial ended and the nightly news began, the overly polished smile of a local anchor greeted me. Her perfectly coiffed hair, bright yellow suit, and dramatic eyeliner worked overtime to distract from the grim headline scrolling beneath her.
Valentine Villain? Police Investigate Second Couple’s Murder.
Well, that wasn’t exactly the soothing background noise I was looking for.
And… shoot .
Maybe I shouldn’t have let Wednesday go out tonight.
The anchor’s smile vanished as she shifted into her serious reporter voice. “Tonight, authorities are investigating what appears to be a potential serial killer targeting couples in love. The killer, now dubbed the ‘Valentine Villain’—“
“Catchy,” I muttered.
“…has left a chilling signature at each crime scene: a vintage Valentine’s Day card, and a small knife, embedded directly through a heart-shaped doily.”
The screen switched to a montage—blurred crime scene photos, police tape fluttering under streetlights, flickering candles from makeshift memorials.
I grimaced, biting the end of my pen.
The contrast between the delicate lace of the doilies and the violence they marked made my stomach twist.
The broadcast cut to a new face—a reporter standing outside the latest crime scene. “A second couple was found dead late last night, echoing a disturbingly similar scene from two nights ago,” she said in that bleak, somber tone they always used when things were really bad. “Authorities are investigating potential connections between the victims.”
I leaned back. Two couples in the span of a week?
My true crime hat went on in a flash. How bad would it get when he escalated?
My thoughts swirled as the anchor came back on, looking straight into the camera’s soul. “Authorities are considering whether this could be leading up to something bigger as Valentine’s Day approaches, though officials urge the public not to panic. Still, many are asking: will the police stop the killer, or will The Blade step in before we’re faced with a tragic grand finale on February 14th?”
I tilted my head, wondering if any local offices had a betting pool on that front. Crush or no crush… I’d seen The Blade in action. If I had a bunch of money to throw down?
I’d bet on him.
The anchor’s face softened, giving concerned-yet-hopeful . “One thing is certain: the city is on edge, and couples are advised to remain vigilant until this killer is stopped.”
Oh, nice. Love that for us.
As if the threat of catfishing or hidden family drama weren’t enough to make anyone wary of dating, now we had this to worry about.
Well, not that it affected me.
No boyfriend, no girlfriend, no awkward situationships. Just me, the coffee shop that ruled my life, and an apartment full of indoor plants that were somehow still alive.
I fidgeted with my pen, pretending the numbers on the receipts before me mattered more than the growing knot in my chest.
But the image of that vintage Valentine’s card—with its delicate, innocent charm twisted into something sinister—lingered like a green smoothie’s aftertaste.
Then again, I wasn’t exactly the Valentine Villain’s target demographic, so… I guess that meant I could rest easy?
I shook out my arms, trying to banish the ick.
But, then, a loud crash echoed from the front of the shop, and I shot up from my chair, clutching my pen in a stabby death grip. My phone was in my other hand in a flash, fingers trembling over the emergency call screen.
And as glass crunched over heavy footprints, I bolted toward the front, instincts fueled by a cocktail of adrenaline and panic.
The front door, the one that had been securely locked minutes ago, was now wide open—with jagged shards framing the gaping hole that had apparently allowed someone to get inside.
Someone with a ski mask and a gun.
I froze.
And then there was… Jax?
No, not Jax, the grumpy, late-night squatter with a caffeine and WiFi dependency. This was a whole different creature—one that moved with a familiar precision so swift that it made reality blur around the edges.
And then, in a show of strength and speed that I could hardly wrap my brain around, Jax had the guy disarmed and flat on his back, out cold.
I watched, open-mouthed, as he rolled the intruder to the side and yanked a zip tie from his back pocket— wait, what? —securing the guy’s wrists to one of the metal supports under the counter.
At the back of my frantic mind, something told me I’d been in this movie before.
I had a feeling the man wouldn’t put up much of a fight after that, even if he were conscious. Not with Jax looming over him like vengeance personified.
I pressed myself against the wall, still holding my pen like it would’ve won in a fight against a gun. My breath was trapped somewhere between my lungs and my throat, and…
What the heck just happened?
Jax hadn’t hesitated—not for one heartbeat. His moves were so fluid and efficient. It was clear as day that he’d done this a thousand times before.
In a hood.
And a mask.
And I am unhinged.
Silence settled over the room, thick and buzzing as I gawked at Jax, then down at the zip-tied bad guy before swinging my gaze back up.
The dots hadn’t simply connected during that epic showdown—they were neon flashing, blaring sirens in my mind.
I pointed at Jax, my finger shaking slightly. “Stop it right now.”
His gaze met mine.
“You’re him,” I croaked, then louder, “ You’re The Blade! ”
Jax didn’t even flinch. He stood as still as a statue, arms at his sides.
Realizing my phone was still in my hand, the screen glowing with the emergency number partially dialed, I quickly deleted the nine and the one before sliding it into the pocket of my apron.
Along with my pen.
Didn’t need that anymore.
“Jax,” I breathed, taking a tiny step forward. “Tell me I’m right.”
“You’re not,” he grumbled.
I blinked. “Oh, really? You carry zip ties. Normal people don’t carry zip ties, Jax. The Blade does.”
“I like to be prepared.”
“For what? Kidnapping? Not exactly a comforting excuse.”
His fists clenched. “I’m not The Blade.”
“Liar.”
At that, he did flinch.
Good.
I was right, and we both knew it. I mean, really, what else would make sense?
Of course Jax is a crime-fighting vigilante. The moodiness, the ever-present hoodie, the way he always sat in that secluded corner like he was morally obligated to be edgy and mysterious?
I took a calming breath, and then, tapping my fingers like the evil villains he probably fought, I shot him a look that was equal parts smug and shamelessly smitten.
He glared, which only made him more attractive because, apparently, I had zero self-preservation instincts.
I grinned wider. “Jax, I just watched you take down a guy with a gun with your bare hands. With the kind of speed that shouldn’t be possible. You know who else can do that?”
His eye twitched.
“The Blade. The Blade does that, and that means you’re him.” I paused, holding up a hand. “Hang on, are you human? Please tell me you are, or this is definitely gonna be weird for me. Never mind. Forget I asked. I don’t wanna know.”
Jax exhaled through his nose, looking about three seconds away from throwing himself out the nearest window. “You need to calm down.”
I burst out laughing. It was nowhere close to a polite chuckle. It was a full-on, doubled-over, can’t-breathe kinda laugh, because was he for real right now?
Even through my laughter, I knew my heart raced for a new reason now. It was no longer the adrenaline from the break-in or his ridiculous denial of the truth. It was a kind of electric, jittery excitement that fizzled under my skin like too much caffeine.
And it wasn’t just excitement.
It was something hotter, like my attraction for the man before me had just been cranked up to eleven, daring me to pretend it was just a crush.
I’d seen this happen twice now, and at the bank, The Blade had looked good doing it.
But here, as Jax?
He’d looked really freaking good.
The way his strong jaw clenched, the flexing of his fantastic forearms, the steely intensity in his eyes that screamed of his hyper-competence in the most delicious way?
It was catnip, and I was a cat.
A lovestruck one with cartoon hearts for eyes, and I couldn’t keep away my smile as Jax tried to look like a lean, mean, brooding machine.
I threw my hands up. “Are you actually sticking to this story? That you’re not him? Or he’s not you?”
Jax crossed his arms and sighed deeply.
And then, he tried a different tactic.
I saw the switch—like a plan set in motion that he was absolutely sure would work.
He straightened up, making a show of menacingly crossing his arms even tighter across his broad chest. And as he took a deliberate step closer, his shadow stretched between us like a sinister movie poster.
I tilted my head, arching an unimpressed eyebrow.
He took another step.
I smirked.
I see your dramatic loom and raise you zero concern.
Only two feet away now, he stared down at me, his dark eyes narrowed like he thought I’d actually cower from his dangerous vigilante persona.
Unfortunately for him, that ship had sailed, and I was fully on board.
I could practically hear his inner monologue screaming at him to look scary. I wasn’t sure who he thought he was convincing, but it sure as heck wasn’t me.
This man saved me.
Twice.
“Fine,” I said. “Don’t admit it. But I have questions.”
Did he just growl?
Men .
“Do you have a secret lair, or do you do all of your save-the-day prep work right there at that table?” I asked, casually jerking my chin toward his favorite spot.
No reaction.
“Do you fight crime full-time, or is this more of a side hustle? Can’t imagine it pays well, though, and my coffee ain’t cheap.”
Nothing.
“Do you ever use the swords?” I tried again. “Better yet, why do you even carry weapons after what I just saw you do without them?”
His eye twitched. Progress .
Excellent.
I grabbed my pen from my pocket, needing a fidget for my final attempt to break him. I tapped it against my open palm and lifted my chin. “Where’d you learn to do all that, anyway? Do you actually have superpowers? Okay, I need to know. Are you human?”
“Luna,” he snarled. It was a low warning that warmed me from my head to my toes.
“Are you trying to be scary right now?” I stepped all the way into his personal space just to see what he’d do. “Because it’s not working. At all. In fact, I’m pretty sure you heard what I said about you at the bank that day…”
His throat worked as he swallowed. “That wasn’t me.”
I snorted. “Sure it wasn’t. Look, I know you’ve ignored all of my other questions, but answer me this: if you’re not The Blade, does that mean you’re gonna stick around when the cops show up and give them an official statement?”