Chapter Twenty-Four
Rex
Two weeks later... Rex’s private suite, Club Decadent Skies, GoldenEye Airbus IV...
The air in the suite was thick with tension as it settled like a shroud over the room.
Rex stood by the window overlooking the dungeon.
His reflection was a ghostly specter against the still dark cabin below.
The hum of the Airbus’s engines was a distant murmur, a reminder that they were suspended between worlds—neither here nor there but trapped in the limbo of uncertainty.
Max’s voice cut through the silence, sharp with concern. “I don’t like it, Rex.”
Rex didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He could feel the scrutiny of their stares, the unspoken questions hanging in the air like the blade of a guillotine.
“Three weeks,” Jax growled with an edge in his voice, sounding like a match striking flint. “Three fucking weeks since the hack went to shit and not a single word from The Consortium. Or Dominic. Do you really think they’re just going to let this slide?”
Rex exhaled, a slow, controlled breath that did nothing to ease the knot in his chest. “No. I don’t.”
The truth was a bitter pill. He had spent every waking moment since that night dissecting his own stupidity.
Dominic Drake had played him like a fucking violin, and Rex had handed him the bow.
The banking hack had been a setup from the start—a way to force his hand, to make him complicit in a crime that would have destroyed him.
And now? Now Dominic had ammunition far more valuable than money.
Xia.
Rex’s fingers curled into fists at his sides.
He had marked her. Not just as his temporary sub, but with his possession, his fury, and his blatant need.
The way he had taken her in that cage—fuck—he had unleashed something in her, something raw and untamed, and he had done it without thought, without preparation.
A strong submissive like Xia didn’t just surrender to humiliation.
She bloomed under it, but only when it was given with care, with precision.
What did he do instead? He had ripped her open and left her bleeding. .. and now she hated him for it.
And he fucking deserved it.
The memory of her shattered against him, her body trembling as she came apart in his arms, was a brand on his soul.
He had rebuilt her afterward in his private suite, piece by broken piece, like a craftsman restoring a priceless artifact.
He had traced the lines of her spine with his fingertips, whispered promises against her skin, and held her until the tremors subsided and her breathing steadied.
He had worshipped her in the aftermath because that was what she deserved—reverence, not ruin.
But it didn’t change the fact that he had failed her.
“I canceled DD’s membership,” Max said, breaking into his thoughts. “He won’t get past security onto any of the GoldenEye Airbuses. That should keep our subs safe.”
When Rex finally turned, his expression was unreadable. “Good call, Max. But it won’t be enough. He disappeared. Camden can’t find him.”
Axel swirled the amber liquid in his glass.
“You know, I’ve always suspected Dominic had a cruel streak.
I witnessed it once, a couple of years after graduation, at some dive bar, late at night.
He was slapping a woman—hard. Not a playful tap.
A backhand that split her lip. The kind that leaves a bruise for days. ”
Dexter’s jaw tightened. “I hope you stopped the motherfucker?”
Axel’s laugh was humorless. “I didn’t need to. Her husband showed up with a few friends. Turned out they were part of a local drug ring, armed to the teeth. Dominic didn’t even fight. Just... slipped out like a shadow and that was it.”
Rex’s stomach twisted. That was the criminal Dominic Drake. Always the predator, never the prey. The one pulling the strings, never the one caught in the trap.
“He was always closest to you, Rex,” Jax mused. “Did you two keep in touch after college?”
“I tried, but it didn’t last,” Rex said flatly. “We had nothing left to say, so I eventually stopped trying.”
Axel leaned his elbows on his knees. “Jealousy. That’s what this is. He always wanted what you had, even back then. Your success, your reputation, and fuck, the way you embraced life. And now? Now he’s written the perfect playbook to take it all from you.”
Max nodded. “The hack was just the beginning. If you’d played along, he would’ve pinned everything on you. It looks like he wants to ruin you in every way possible. You’d end up in jail after a complete financial collapse. Worse, you’d be a public disgrace.”
“And Xia?” Dexter’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the room like a knife.
Rex’s chest constricted. “Like a fucking fool, I placed a red target on her back and handed her to him on a silver platter.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He had claimed her in front of the entire club, in front of Dominic. And Dominic, being the calculating bastard he was, would have seen it for what it was—a weakness, a chink in Rex’s armor.
“She’s not yours, though,” Max pressed. “It’s just a temporary thing, right?”
Rex’s gaze flickered. The lie tasted like ash on his tongue. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s not mine.”
But that didn’t matter. Dominic wouldn’t care about the semantics. He would see Xia as a tool, a way to hurt Rex where it mattered most. And that was the problem. Because even if Rex walked away, even if he pretended she meant nothing, he would never stop protecting her.
“By the time we land...” His voice droned lower as he continued, “Everyone on this plane will know she’s nothing to me. That whatever we had is over.”
Axel studied him. “You think that’ll stop him?”
Rex sighed. “Camden’s cleanup operation is ready to roll out.
They’re going to hit all four of the hubs at the same time.
This entire shit show will be over soon.
” His smile was a blade unsheathed. “And Dominic? He won’t stop, but he’ll have to work harder.
One way or the other, he’s going to fuck up. .. make a mistake, and I’ll be there.”
It wasn’t even a question that when Dominic came for her—and he would come—Rex would be ready.
Because the one thing Dominic Drake had never understood was that Rex Oliver didn’t just win his battles.
He erased them.
Rex
The Entertainment Cabin, GoldenEye IV...
The cabin was alive with the hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the low, sultry pulse of music. But for Rex, the world had narrowed to a single point—Xia.
She sat perched on a barstool with the tense curve of her spine a silent rebellion against his presence.
The martini in her hand acted as a shield, a barrier between them.
He didn’t need to see her face to know she was avoiding his gaze.
The way her fingers tightened around the stem of the glass and her shoulders tensing—every line of her body screamed defiance.
Fuck.
He had done this. He had taken something sacred between them and shattered it in his haste, in his arrogance. And now, she was paying the price.
“Come.”
The word was a sharp and unyielding command, barked out as he strode past her. He didn’t wait to see if she followed. He didn’t need to. She would. Because no matter how much she hated him right now, she was still his... for now.
The silent vow settled like a stone in his gut.
The leather creaking beneath him sounded like a beratement as he sank onto the sofa in the corner. The seconds stretched and became thick with tension as he waited for her to join him. She took her time. Each step was deliberate and each movement a silent fuck you to his authority.
When she finally sat, it was on the farthest edge of the sofa, putting as much distance between them as possible. The silence between them was a living, suffocating entity.
“You seem to be in a mood, Master R,” she finally purred. The words dripped with false sweetness. “Not very conducive to seducing your potentials to be Mrs. Right.”
His jaw tightened. “If I have to seduce her to be that, she’s the wrong one. So why bother?”
“Oh my,” she drawled, taking a slow sip of her drink. “He truly is hitting the low notes.”
Rex’s fingers curled into fists. He could feel the pressure of her resentment in the way it coiled around them like smoke.
“We need to talk.”
“Yes, indeed we do.” She tilted her head with her eyes gleaming a challenge. “So, let’s begin. Who’s first on the agenda for tonight? Little Miss Daisy? Or wait... Pixie! Yes, plump as a peach and as pretty as a rose. Clever too. She has a PhD in microbiology.”
His patience snapped. “You said you were okay when we spoke on the phone.”
Her eyes flashed. “I am okay.”
“No. You’re not.” His voice rumbled in a low and dangerous bass. “That’s what we’re going to talk about, Xia. Not the fucking potentials on the list.”
She stiffened. His chest constricted as, for a moment, the barest crack appeared in her armor—fear, maybe, or shame—flashed in her eyes. But then it was gone, smothered beneath the same cold, unyielding mask she suddenly wore.
“There’s nothing to discuss. I turned into a whore for you. End of story.”
The words were a blade to his ribs. “Exactly my point. We didn’t discuss what happened afterward... since you disappeared into thin air.” His eyes narrowed as she pressed her lips into a thin line. “Why did you join the BDSM lifestyle, Xia?”
She recoiled as if he’d struck her. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.” He turned sideways to keep her in his direct sight. She squirmed and buried her nose in her drink. “I’m waiting.”
“I told you I’m not discussing this,” she snapped as she set down the glass and tried to stand, but his hand shot out, wrapping around her throat before she could rise.
“Wh-What!?” She gasped, her fingers clawing at his wrist as he pulled her onto his lap, forcing her to straddle him with his fingers forming a tight band around her throat.