Chapter 8
To my surprise, Aaiden doesn’t take me back to Rockford Manor.
He doesn’t explain where we’re going, either, as he drives past the turn that would have taken us to the highway and back home.
So this is how it’s going to be.
I stare out the window, pretending the rain-slick streets deserve my attention as the distance between us and the manor grows.
My hands won’t stop trembling, and copper coats my tongue from where I’ve been biting the inside of my cheek.
The rush from the mission is fading, leaving behind a hollowness that spreads from my chest to my limbs.
“Care to explain where we’re going?” I ask. “Or am I just supposed to stay quiet until you decide I’ve behaved enough to be let in on your newest plan?”
Aaiden keeps his focus on the road. “We’re not going back to the manor tonight.”
My fingers curl on my thigh, nails digging into denim. “That wasn’t the question.”
“No,” he agrees. “It wasn’t.”
We pass from the busier stretch of roads into quieter blocks. Fewer storefronts. More shuttered windows. The buildings appear older here, brick darkened by years of grime, metal doors scratched and dented. Neon signs buzz in a few windows, reflecting off damp pavement.
I track the turns, muscle memory and instinct mapping our route in my head.
When the car slows to turn down a quieter street, one lined with older buildings converted into mixed-use spaces, it clicks.
The Rockfords have safe houses all over the place.
But I don’t understand why he’s taking me to one now when I’m uninjured.
Most of the windows are dark at this hour, the occasional light glowing behind drawn curtains. We pull into a narrow alley tucked between two brick structures, and the tires crunch over gravel before Aaiden parks beside an unmarked metal door set into the side of the building.
No cameras visible. No keypad. No obvious security. Which doesn’t mean it’s not there. It’s just hidden.
He kills the engine, and for a moment, neither of us moves. The ticking of the cooling car fills the silence, the faint drip of water from the roof echoing somewhere in the alley.
“Get out.”
It’s not a Command this time, though the growl behind the words says he’s riding the edge.
I consider disobeying just to feel that rush of peace again. But I’m half afraid he’ll leave me here to think about my actions and what they could have cost me tonight.
So, I unbuckle my belt.
Aaiden opens his door, the night air slipping in as he climbs out, and I follow, stumbling as my feet hit concrete. The world tilts for a moment before righting itself. The adrenaline crash is hitting hard now, but I lock my knees and force myself to stay upright.
The alley is all wet concrete and rust, the air cool on my skin as I straighten, cataloging every detail out of habit. Entry points. Exits. Sight lines.
Aaiden stops at the metal door and reaches into his coat, producing a key. He unlocks it with a quiet click and pushes it open, stepping inside without hesitation.
Again, I follow, and the safe house door closes behind us. As the quiet settles, the blood and death become distant compared to the burning awareness of Aaiden moving through the darkness behind me.
My fingers search for a light switch along the wall. When I find it, harsh fluorescents buzz to life, revealing a space straight out of a government surplus catalog. Reinforced windows. Utilitarian furniture. Beige walls. Not an ounce of welcoming comfort.
“Take off the vest,” Aaiden says as he secures the three locks on the door, each one engaging with a heavy thunkthat makes my teeth clench.
I yank at the straps, the tactical vest dragging at my shoulders now. My hands tremble as I lift it over my head.
Aaiden shrugs out of his jacket. His suit remains pristine despite the night’s violence, not a hair out of place. He doesn’t look at me as he removes his own vest without any sign that tonight affected him at all.
My side throbs in time with my heartbeat, and the newly healed wound twinges as I toss the vest onto the metal table near the kitchenette.
“Sit down before you fall down,” Aaiden says, shutting and locking the door behind us.
I glare at him over my shoulder. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” His eyes sweep over me, taking in the pallor of my skin and the sweat beading at my hairline despite the chill in the air. “Sit.”
“No.” I remain standing out of pure defiance as my knees threaten to buckle.
“Jade,” Aaiden sighs, placing his vest on the entry table. “Sit down.”
The Command washes over me, and I sink onto the nearby chair. The moment my ass hits the hard metal seat, exhaustion crashes over me in a wave. My muscles tremble with fatigue, and cold sweat breaks out across my skin. The last of the adrenaline drains away, leaving me empty and shaky.
Aaiden moves to the kitchen, filling a glass with water. He sets it on the table in front of me and steps back. “Drink.”
I stare at the water without touching it. I can’t sit here and let Aaiden be gentle with me, only to refuse me again.
I stand, steadier on my feet now. “I’m leaving.”
He loosens his tie with one hand, ruining the perfect Windsor knot. “No, you’re not.”
“You don’t own me.” The words come out weaker than I intend, because he could if he wanted to.
“Tonight proved you’re not ready to operate solo. You almost walked into an ambush.”
“I handled it.”
“No, we handled it,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
I take an unsteady step toward the door. “I’m done playing by your rules.”
Before I can take another step, Aaiden moves to stand in front of me, his broad shoulders blocking the door. I hadn’t even seen him cross the room, too focused on forcing my legs to cooperate.
“Move.” I glare up at him.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Not in this condition.”
“Watch me.”
I try to shove past him, putting all my remaining strength into pushing against his chest. He doesn’t budge an inch. Instead, his hand shoots out, catching me by the forearm before I can stumble past.
The contact jolts through me like an electric current. Skin to skin, his fingers wrap around my bare arm, hot and real after months of careful distance.
We both freeze.
I stare at where he holds me, afraid of what I might see if I raise my head. His grip is firm but not punishing, his thumb pressed over my pulse point where he counts my racing heartbeat.
One second stretches into two, into three, the silence broken only by our breathing. His scent shifts, thickening, and my stomach clenches in response.
As suddenly as he grabbed me, Aaiden releases my arm, stepping back as if burned. The loss of contact leaves me cold and aching.
I look up to find his jaw tight, nostrils flared as he breathes through his mouth, trying not to scent me. This wasn’t in my plans, but his control is slipping. It’s a fraction, but it’s more than I’ve seen from him in months.
“Careful,” I mock, taking a step after him to close the distance again. “You’re starting to look like you want me.”
His green eyes lock with mine, his pupils expanding despite the bright lights overhead. “I want you alive. That’s all.”
The words hang between us, another wall Aaiden builds to keep me at arm’s length. For a heartbeat, I consider following through on my threat to leave. There are other safe houses, or I could rent a motel room.
But I’m so tired.
So instead of leaving, I take another step closer. Aaiden’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back away.
“I believe that you want me alive,” I say, pushing my pheromones out into the small space. “But you’re lying when you say that’s all you want.”
Aaiden’s nostrils flare as he drinks me in. “Stop this, Jade.”
“No.” I place my palm flat on his chest, and a thrill shoots through me at the way his heart pounds beneath the expensive fabric of his dress shirt.
“It’s only us here. No one else has to know.
That’s why you brought me here instead of going home, isn’t it?
You could have lost me tonight, and now you need to make sure I’m still yours. ”
Aaiden’s hand shoots up, closing around my wrist in a firm grip. “Don’t.”
Ignoring him, I bring my other hand up to rest on his shoulder. This touch, too, he captures, gripping both my wrists in his large hands.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, rough with self-restraint. “To be held down? Controlled? After everything that happened to you?”
Dark, choking memories threaten to surface, but I push them down. This is different. This is my choice.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted.” I lean into his grip instead of fighting it. “From you. Only from you.”
Confusion weakens his resolve, followed by a darker, hungrier emotion. His thumbs rub my pulse points, encouraging my heartbeat to slow.
“You don’t really want this,” he says, as if he’s trying to convince himself.
“I’m not in Heat,” I say, refusing to let him dismiss this. “I’m not confused. I’m asking.”
His grip tightens fractionally. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”
“Touch me like you want to.” I fight his restraint, not to break free but to test the strength of it, the security of it. “Take me.”
“Do you think all this reckless behavior will force my hand?” he demands. “Is that why you keep hurting yourself?”
“No. None of it is for you, Aaiden.” Tears burn behind my eyelids. “I’m burning up inside. I’m dying, and the only thing I’m allowed to feel is pain.”
“Jade.” My name becomes a warning on his lips.
“I’m not healing like this. I’m just continuing to break down. So, what are you waiting for?” My eyes drop to his mouth. “Are you still waiting for the perfect moment? For me to be older? Stronger? Less damaged?”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “That’s not why.”
“Then tell me why.” I lean forward until our faces are inches apart. “Tell me the real reason you keep holding back.”
Instead of answering, Aaiden releases one of my wrists to cup my jaw, his touch gentler than I expected.