Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I ’ve been staying at Lexie’s all week. Facing Cooper isn’t something I’m ready for, so I settle for borrowing Lexie’s things. We’ve already agreed it’s temporary, but I get the sense she doesn’t mind the company.
This morning, I’m focused on preparing for Axel’s trial. I know the odds are in my favor, but I can’t shake the unease crawling beneath my skin. Aiden Daniels has been acting shady, too shady to ignore. He’s already tried to bribe me once. Who knows what else he’s planning? I need to stay sharp.
With one last glance in the mirror, I head out. I’m not surprised to find Trigger waiting, leaning casually against the SUV. They always seem to find me. I’d bet my wage that he’s got me tracked somehow.
Regardless of my inner thoughts, I climb in and immediately feel the weight of four pairs of eyes on me. Hunter rides up front, Max and Ryder sit at the back, and Axel’s in the middle. He reaches out a hand without a word, pulling me into the seat beside him. The vehicle falls into a heavy silence.
It’s strange—this quiet. Tense. Almost ominous. I wonder if Axel’s nervous too, or maybe the others are feeling it.
We haven’t talked much about the case since the weekend.
No new developments. And as for whatever’s happening between Axel and me…
we’ve barely touched that subject either.
A few texts here and there, nothing more.
I haven’t pushed. Truth is, I know Axel’s got more pressing things on his plate.
So I’ve kept my feelings locked away—at least for now.
As soon as we pull up to the courthouse, the doors open and everyone climbs out. I start to follow, but Axel catches my hand, tugging me back into the SUV.
“What?” I ask, eyes sweeping over every sharp edge of his face as he presses me into the leather seat. His jaw ticks, his eyes scanning mine like he’s searching for something. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but all I can think about is how goddamn beautiful he is.
Axel nods toward the door behind me, and a beat later, I hear it close with a solid thud.
“What’s wrong, Axel?” My voice comes out softer than I expect, a plea in the quiet.
His hand slides up to cradle the space between my jaw and throat—firm, but not rough. “I’ve missed you,” he breathes the words against my lips.
The nearness of him sets my skin alight. His voice, low and possessive, coils around me like a tether. I can’t help but smile. The way he growls those tender words is such a contradiction—like him. Like the way he turns pain into pleasure, and pleasure into something that ruins me every time.
The urge to tell him I’ve missed him just as much is torturous.
The words sit on the tip of my tongue, aching to be spoken, but fear holds me back.
I’m scared of what it means to say it out loud.
Scared of blurring a line that maybe we’ve already crossed.
Hell, we’re so far past it now that turning back feels impossible.
It’s like Axel can read my mind. I know he can read my body—he spent enough time exploring every inch of it at the weekend—but to know what I’m thinking? That terrifies me.
He leans in, lips grazing the shell of my ear, and I shiver. His whisper is low, rich, and sinful, just like his hand as it slides up my thigh. His fingers brush over my panties—light, teasing, electric. I gasp at the contact, my skin catching fire under his touch.
“I’ve missed this pussy,” he murmurs.
A moan slips from my lips as I melt into his touch. It’s obvious how badly I want him. He’s become my favorite vice—addictive, consuming, dangerous. My head flies back as his fingers stroke me again, pleasure igniting like sparks across my nerves.
And then… buzz .
The sharp vibration of my phone cuts through the moment like a blade, yanking me back to reality.
“We need to go, Axel,” I whisper to the ceiling, breathless and aching. I hate myself for stopping this—whatever this is—before it can truly begin.
He pulls back with a frustrated sigh, jaw tightening. There’s something flickering in his eyes—worry, maybe. Beneath his hard, composed exterior, I catch a flash of vulnerability.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I say, cradling his face between my hands. His expression softens, just slightly, though I know he’s only masking the tension for my sake.
“You’re walking out of there.”
A smirk curves his lips, and suddenly the glint in his eyes is all heat again. “And when I do, your pussy is mine.”
His words strike like lightning, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He doesn’t dwell on fear or doubt. He steamrolls through them, already shifting his focus to his next conquest. Me.
I swallow hard. Nodding is all I can manage. I’m too flustered to speak. I love his darkness, but sometimes, his words leave me breathless, unmoored.
He leans in and kisses me, slow and certain, then the door opens, and the cool morning air rushes in, chasing the heat from my skin.
We walk up the steps of the courthouse, Axel’s hand pressed protectively against the small of my back while the rest of The Five form a silent perimeter around us.
It’s like being caged in by a wall of muscle and menace.
Each of them exudes danger in their own uniquely magnetic way; dark suits, darker eyes, and expressions carved from stone.
They draw stares, but no one dares come close.
I shake off the intrusive thoughts crowding my mind and force my focus back to where it belongs; Axel. The trial.
Inside, we take our seats, the air tense with anticipation as we wait for the judge. I catch Axel watching Daniels, his eyes sharp and unreadable. A flicker of something passes between them. It’s quick and subtle, a silent exchange I can’t interpret, but it makes my stomach clench.
“I don’t trust him,” Axel murmurs, his voice brushing hot against my ear.
“Me neither,” I reply just as the judge enters and takes the bench.
I sit straight, calm and composed, a still lake beneath a midnight sky.
Nothing can touch me. I know this case front to back.
Daniels has nothing. This whole trial has been a drawn-out performance, and the only real satisfaction will come from watching him retreat, humiliated, tail between his legs.
At least, that’s what I think.
Until Daniels stands and announces he has additional evidence .
Gasps ripple through the gallery behind us.
“What the fuck?!” Axel growls under his breath, eyes cutting to mine.
Shit .
I need to calm him down before he explodes like an atomic bomb. The look on Axel’s face is pure, unfiltered rage, and I can practically hear the gears in his head grinding at full speed.
“I’ve got this,” I whisper-shout, planting myself in my chair with purposeful resolve.
Daniels begins detailing his so-called recent findings to the court. It’s not the first time a stunt like this has been pulled, and I know exactly how fast things can spiral. So, I steel myself and stand to address Judge Michaelson. “We were not made aware of this, Your Honor.”
“It only just came to my attention,” Daniels replies, voice soaked in smug vindication.
“At what time, exactly, were you made aware of this evidence?” Judge Michaelson asks, one brow arched in suspicion. He’s already catching on to the game Daniels is playing, but his hands are tied by impartiality.
“Just before entering the courtroom, Your Honor.”
Of course. It’s a power play; one used to make Michaelson question his moral obligation to the city.
Michaelson’s gaze flicks between us, weighing the situation.
Daniels shifts nervously under the scrutiny, while I roll my shoulders back, calm and unwavering.
Whatever his ruling, I’m ready. I believe Axel—and if I do, then I know this evidence is bullshit.
It’s my job to make sure that’s proven in here today.
With a heavy sigh, Michaelson narrows his eyes and says, “Objection overruled.”
Shit .
I sit back down, heart pounding. Axel turns to me, eyes full of questions I can’t answer right now. The judge’s word is final, and the last thing I’m going to do is risk the trial by speaking out of turn.
Daniels approaches with the file, handing it to me like a dog dropping a dead bird at my feet; smug and pleased with himself.
I take it without blinking. Axel’s glare darkens, and Daniels retreats quickly.
Anyone else might be intimidated. Me? I’ve seen Axel’s softer side.
The side that roughs up his edges but never turns them on me .
“I’d like to call the defendant to the stand,” Daniels announces, turning toward Axel with theatrical flair.
Our eyes lock. He’s searching mine for reassurance, for something steady to anchor him .
“You’ve got this,” I whisper, my voice low and certain, hoping he remembers everything we talked about.
The room falls into a tense silence as Axel stands. He’s sworn in, and I watch, breath held, as he takes the stand. His eyes find mine again.
I give him a subtle nod.
Trust me.
While Daniels questions Axel, I flip through the file he just handed me.
CCTV stills of Axel’s car. Shots from different angles, different timestamps, all neatly labeled.
But none of that means anything without a corresponding report.
I rifle through the photos. Shots of the crime scene.
Evidence markers. But nothing— nothing —points directly to Axel. My shoulders loosen slightly.
“Mr. Bonanno, can you tell me where you were on the night of October sixteenth?” Daniels leans against the prosecution table, one leg propped like he’s posing for a tabloid.
Axel glances my way, but there’s no fear in his eyes. Just the cool, contained confidence I told him to lean into. And damn if he isn’t doing it well—sitting there like sin in a silver suit. Daniels is the one sweating now.
“Home,” Axel replies with a shrug.
Daniels lifts a photo and steps forward. “Can you identify this car?”
Axel barely spares it a glance. “Yes.”
“This is your car?” Daniels clarifies.
“Yes,” Axel grinds out.
“Can you explain what it was doing outside the Mayor’s home at approximately 9 p.m. that evening?”
There’s a twitch at Axel’s jawline as he clenches his teeth. Daniels can’t hide the smirk he thinks he’s earned.
“It wasn’t,” Axel states, his voice firm.
“CCTV places your car there. The cameras don’t lie, Mr. Bonanno.”
I see the fury rise in Axel like a tide threatening to crash. I know that look—I’ve seen it before. He’s holding on by a thread. He hates being questioned, but more than that, he hates repeating himself.
Don’t take the bait.
“It. Wasn’t. There,” he repeats, sharper this time.
He looks at me, and I know he’s about to snap. I shoot to my feet.
“Your Honor, I’d like to question the authenticity of this surveillance footage.”
“They’ve already been verified,” Daniels cuts in smugly, eyes flicking to me with condescension.
“By whom?”
“The NYPD.”
Michaelson’s brow arches. “Can we have confirmation of the officer who authorized the verification?”
Daniels slides a paper across the bench. Michaelson takes it with mild disapproval.
“May I see that, Your Honor?” I ask.
Daniels hands me a copy, reluctantly.
I skim the report. On the surface, it looks clean.
But my gut screams otherwise. The timeline’s vague.
The language rushed. No detailed breakdown.
No prints. No ballistics. And most importantly, no location identifiers in the photographs.
Just Axel’s car parked on some generic curb. That could be anywhere.
Daniels is bluffing. Trying to win on theatrics and weak evidence.
“Mr. Daniels, you may continue,” Michaelson says flatly.
Daniels turns back to Axel, more assured now. “Mr. Bonanno, you’ve denied your car was present. Are you saying it was stolen?”
“No. It wasn’t.” Axel’s voice wavers slightly, more frustration than fear.
“And does anyone else have access to the vehicle?”
He’s still hammering about the damn car. I know that car. Sleek, black, and fast. The one he drove me home in that night. The same night I almost kissed him outside my building.
Then it clicks. Location. That’s the hole in Daniels’ case.
“No,” Axel says, curt.
Daniels backs off, clearly satisfied. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
Michaelson nods. “Miss Caruthers?”
I rise smoothly, confidence threading through my spine. I catch Axel’s eye and offer a subtle wink.
Game on.