Chapter 10- JADE #2
"I understand perfectly. I was there, remember?
I watched you kill him. I helped you cover it up.
I sat in that police station and lied through my teeth while detectives stared me down.
" My voice cracks, and I hate myself for showing weakness, but I can't stop.
"Don't you dare act like I don't understand what's at stake. "
"Then why are you fighting me on this?"
"Because this isn't a partnership! This is you making decisions and expecting me to fall in line. This is you treating me like a child who can't be trusted to make her own choices." I stop pacing and face him, my chest heaving, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "You're just like your father."
I watch Phoenix flinch, watch the color drain from his face, and for a moment I want to take it back. But I can't. Because it's true.
"That's not fair," he says quietly. "I love you, Jade. That has to count for something."
"Love isn't enough if I can't breathe.”
The words hang in the air between us, final and devastating. I see the impact hit him, see the way his expression crumbles before he rebuilds his walls. For a moment, he looks vulnerable and utterly lost.
But I can't comfort him. Not right now. Not when I'm the one who's drowning.
"I need space," I say, and my voice sounds strange to my own ears. Flat. Empty. "I need to get out of this house and think without you watching my every move."
"Jade, please. We can talk about this."
"I don't want to talk. I want to breathe." I'm already moving toward the bedroom, already grabbing my purse and my keys and shoving my feet into shoes. "I'll be back tomorrow. Or the day after. I don't know. I just need to be somewhere that isn't here."
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know. A hotel. Somewhere."
"No." His voice drops, that commanding tone I've heard him use in business meetings. He moves toward me, positioning himself between me and the door. "You're not leaving. Not like this."
"Get out of my way, Phoenix."
"We need to talk about this. You can't just run every time things get hard."
"Move." I meet his eyes, refusing to back down. "Now."
Something shifts in his expression. For a moment, I see the man who killed Marcus Webb, the man capable of violence I can barely comprehend. His hands clench at his sides. The air between us crackles with tension.
I should be afraid. Maybe I am, a little.
But I hold my ground.
"Please," I say, softer now. "I need this. If you love me, you'll let me go."
The fight drains out of him slowly, like water from a cracked vessel. He steps aside, but his hand catches my wrist as I pass, his grip firm but not painful.
"I will come find you," he says, his voice rough. "If you don't answer your phone, if I don't hear from you by tomorrow, I will tear this city apart looking for you. Do you understand?"
It's not a threat. It's a promise. And somehow, that makes it worse.
"I understand."
He releases me, and I walk out the door on shaking legs.
I order an Uber to the coffee shop down the road. I need to get away from this house, away from him, and I can't think clearly enough to plan further than that.
The Uber driver doesn't try to make conversation, which is a small mercy.
I stare out the window as we wind down the Pacific Coast Highway, the cliffs dropping away to the ocean below.
The windows are cracked open, and the salt air rushes in, and for the first time in days I feel like I can actually fill my lungs.
I end up at a hotel in Santa Monica, one of those anonymous chain places where no one asks questions and no one cares who you are. I pay cash for one night, take the key card from the bored clerk, and ride the elevator up to a room that smells like fake blueberries.
It's not luxurious. It's not beautiful. But it's mine, at least for tonight, and that's enough.
I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the wall, trying to sort through the chaos in my head. I love Phoenix. I know I do. But love isn't supposed to feel like this, is it? Love isn't supposed to make you feel trapped, suffocated, desperate for escape.
My mother's voice echoes in my memory, all those warnings about men who use money and power to control the women in their lives. I swore I would never be that woman. I swore I would never let anyone clip my wings.
And yet here I am, sitting in a cheap hotel room, running away from a man who says he loves me while holding me so tight I can't move.
My phone buzzes. A text from Phoenix.
I'm sorry. Please come home. We can figure this out together.
I stare at the message for a long time, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I should respond. I should tell him I'm safe, that I just need time, that I'll be back when I've had a chance to clear my head.
Instead, I turn off my phone and shove it in the nightstand drawer.
Tomorrow. I'll deal with everything tomorrow.
But as I lie back on the unfamiliar bed and stare at the unfamiliar ceiling, I can't shake the feeling that something has broken between us tonight.
And I'm not sure it can be fixed.
The last thing I see before sleep finally claims me is the blinking red light of the smoke detector on the ceiling. It reminds me of the camera in the interrogation room. Someone is always watching.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, a new fear takes root.
What if Phoenix can't let me go?
What if I'm not the only one with cracks starting to show?