Chapter 10 – Jaxon
Madeline’s body stiffened when I grabbed her arm, and for a moment, I thought she might bolt. But I wasn’t gripping her hard enough to hurt — just enough to let her know she didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t letting her walk away from this.
Her skin was soft under my hand, warm. The kind of warmth that was distracting, pulling me out of my focus for a beat too long. I hated the flicker of awareness that shot through me, uninvited, as I led her down the hallway. It was nothing like the tight, bruising grip I’d seen on too many victims in my line of work. No, this was steady, controlled — calculated.
Still, the way her lips parted slightly, like she wasn’t sure whether to protest or comply, sent a low hum of tension through my chest. I ignored it. Pushed it down.
Not the time. Not the place.
I didn’t say a word as I placed a hand gently on her lower back, steering her toward one of the discreet hallways that led to the private rooms. The distant hum of conversation and the relentless thrum of the bass faded with each step, the chaos of the club giving way to a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.
She didn’t fight me, but I could feel her hesitation in the way she moved — her steps slower than mine, her body tense under my hand. She didn’t like being led anywhere without knowing the destination, and I didn’t blame her.
Finally, I stopped outside a sleek, dark door and swiped my security pass to unlock it. Pushing the door open, I stepped aside, motioning for her to go in first.
She hesitated, her wide eyes flitting from the room to me. Her lips were pressed together, tight and unyielding, like she was holding back words she wasn’t ready to say.
“It’s just a private lounge,” I said, my voice low and steady. “No one will bother us here, and we need to talk.”
She nodded slowly, stepping inside with careful movements, and I followed, closing the door behind us.
Madeline turned to face me, arms folded defensively across her chest. Her eyes searched mine, and for the first time that night, I saw a flicker of something raw and vulnerable behind her usual fire.
“Want to fill me in now?” I asked, my voice low, firm, controlled.
I let go of her arm, but my fingers tingled from where they’d been touching her. She rubbed the spot absentmindedly, and I couldn’t stop my gaze from flicking there, as if I’d left a mark. The thought made something twist low in my gut, and I shoved it aside.
“I already told you,” she said, her voice soft but defensive.
I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly to study her. The low lighting played tricks with the colour of her eyes, making them darker, deeper. “That’s not going to cut it. So let’s skip the act.”
Her lips twitched, almost like she wanted to smile but knew better. “Why do you even care?” she snapped.
“Because whatever you’re caught up in isn’t just your problem anymore,” I said, my voice edged with frustration. “If something goes sideways, I’m the one cleaning it up. So, yeah, I care. Whether you like it or not.”
Her gaze dropped for a second before snapping back to mine, her stubbornness shining through. God, she could be infuriating. But there was something else, too — something about the way her lashes dipped when she blinked, the way her lips pursed when she was thinking.
I didn’t like it. The way she unsettled me.
“I’m fine,” she said, but there was no weight behind her words.
“Bullshit.”
She flinched at the sharpness of my tone, but I didn’t back down. I couldn’t. If she wasn’t going to take this seriously, I’d have to do it for her.
"Fine," I said, my voice low, though tension coiled tightly in my chest.
I didn’t move immediately. Instead, I stayed where I was, my gaze locking onto hers, searching her expression.
My eyes flicked downward for a split second before meeting hers again. Her lips parted, and I could see the faint rise and fall of her chest as her breath quickened. She didn’t pull away, didn’t argue — just stared back at me with a mix of defiance and curiosity.
I hesitated, giving her the chance to stop me. But when she didn’t, I took a slow step forward, my hand lifting carefully, on purpose.
Her gaze darted to my hand, then back to my face, and I caught the faintest nod — a silent, unspoken consent that unravelled some of the tension coiled tight in my chest.
“Okay,” I said softly, more to myself than to her, as my fingers brushed against the edge of her arm. The contact was light, deliberate, and I moved with the same precision I used in situations far more dangerous than this.
My hand slipped just beneath the curve of her arm, my fingertips grazing the soft fabric of her dress. When I felt the faint texture of the note tucked beneath the neckline, I hooked my fingers around it and pulled it free, careful not to touch more than I had to.
She gasped softly, and my gaze flicked up to meet hers again, her wide eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name. Embarrassment? Frustration? Or maybe something else entirely.
I straightened, holding the crumpled note between us. For a moment, I thought she might grab it back, but she stayed frozen, her arms dropping to her sides as she watched me with guarded intensity.
Unfolding the note, I scanned the words quickly.
My chest tightened, and a sharp heat flared in my gut. The paper crinkled slightly in my grip as my jaw clenched, the words reverberating in my mind like a warning bell.
“This,” I said, my voice low and simmering, “is what you’re hiding?”
I didn’t mean for the question to come out as harsh as it did, but I could hear the edge in my tone, the anger boiling beneath the surface—not at her, but at whoever had dared to send this. The sight of the note in my hands made my blood run hot, and the thought of her being in this situation made it hard to think clearly.
Madeline opened her mouth like she wanted to respond, but then she closed it again, her lips pressing into a thin, trembling line. Her arms folded across her chest, not in defiance, but in an attempt to hold herself together. Her eyes glistened, and when she finally met my gaze, I saw it—the frustration, the exhaustion, the raw weight of it all pressing down on her.
“Who gave this to you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though the anger simmering beneath the surface threatened to break free.
“I don’t know,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes dropped to the floor.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my jaw as I tried to rein in my frustration. Not at her — never at her — but at the situation, at the faceless coward who thought they could intimidate her.
“Scout,” I said, my voice gentler now, though the tension in it lingered, unwilling to fully leave. “You should’ve told me about this.”
She looked back up at me, her hazel eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and something more vulnerable, something that hit me square in the chest. “Why? So you could tell me to stop? To walk away?”
“No,” I said firmly, stepping closer, my gaze locking onto hers. “So I could help you.”
Her eyes widened slightly, the flicker of surprise there gone almost as quickly as it appeared. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence between us heavy and thick, filled with everything we weren’t saying out loud.
The note burned in my hands, but not nearly as much as the anger simmering beneath my skin as I read the note again.
After a few moments, I turned my focus back to her, she now stood there with her arms crossed, her chin tilted up in defiance. She was trying so damn hard to act unaffected, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Is this the first time?” I asked, my voice low and deliberate.
Her brows furrowed slightly, and she shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” I said, stepping closer. “Is this the first time someone’s threatened you?”
Her gaze darted briefly away, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through, before snapping back to mine. “It’s none of your business,” she said sharply, but her tone wavered just enough to betray her resolve.
I took another step forward, closing the space between us. She didn’t back down, but I saw the flicker of hesitation in her eyes, the way her breath hitched slightly as the gap between us disappeared.
“It is my business,” I said, my voice dropping lower, quieter. “When it’s happening in my club, it’s my business. So, stop deflecting and tell me the truth.”
The tension radiated off her in waves. She was stubborn as hell, and for a split second, I almost admired it — the fire in her, the way she didn’t shrink under pressure. But this wasn’t the time for admiration.
“Madeline,” I said, my tone softer now, deliberately using her full name instead of the nickname I’d always teased her with. The shift caught her off guard, her eyes widening slightly, and for a moment, the tension between us changed.
I stepped even closer, the faintest scent of her perfume reaching me. My voice dipped lower, coaxing, careful not to shatter whatever fragile truce was forming. “If there’s more, I need to know. You’re not doing yourself any favours by keeping it to yourself.”
Her lips parted slightly, as if she was about to say something, but no words came out. I watched her throat work as she swallowed hard, the tension in her shoulders giving way just the slightest bit. Her eyes searched mine, looking for something — what, I wasn’t sure — but I held her stare.
“It’s not—” she started, but the words caught in her throat. She swallowed hard, her lips pressing together as if she was physically holding herself back.
“Madeline,” I said again, the firmness in my voice cutting through the space between us, underpinned by an urgency I couldn’t mask. “Whoever’s behind this — whatever they’re after — they’ve made it my problem too. I don’t take kindly to people messing with what’s mine.”
Her head snapped up at that, her eyes locking onto mine with a sharpness that caught me off guard. Surprise flickered there. I pressed forward, unwilling to let the moment slip away.
“You think I’m just going to stand by and let this happen? Let someone threaten you in my club?”
“I don’t need saving, Jaxon,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.
“Good thing I’m not looking to save you,” I replied, my tone firm but steady, making sure she knew this wasn’t about pity or control. “But everyone needs help and that’s what I’m offering. You’re a pain in my ass, Scout, no doubt about that. But truthfully? I’d rather have you be a pain in my ass than not have you around at all.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she said softly, her voice quieter now. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I’m not pushing this because I owe you,” I said, stepping closer, lowering my voice. “I’m saying this because I want to.”
I could see the battle she was fighting in her head — the urge to keep pushing me away warring with the part of her that wanted to let someone else share the weight she was carrying. It wasn’t easy for her, I could tell. But I wasn’t going to let up.
“Look,” I said, “You don’t want to drag anyone else into your mess. You want to handle it yourself, but sometimes, doing that is worst fucking thing you can do.”
She hesitated, and then, slowly, the tension in her posture eased. “There was… a man,” she said, her words tentative, like she was testing how much to reveal. “Outside the club. A few weeks ago. He… he cornered me.”
The blood in my veins turned to ice, then fire. “He what?”
She flinched at the sharpness of my tone, and I forced myself to take a breath, to rein it in before I scared her off completely. “Tell me everything,”
Her eyes flicked away again, but this time, she didn’t hold back. “I didn’t see his face. He grabbed my arm, told me to stop what I was doing, and then he let me go.”
I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to punch something — or someone. The idea of some bastard grabbing her, threatening her, and leaving her alone in the dark made my chest tighten with rage.
“You didn’t think to tell anyone?” I asked, my voice taut with barely restrained fury, the heat of my frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
“I didn’t know who to tell!” she snapped, her own frustration breaking through. “What was I supposed to say? That some guy scared me in the street? That I got a note shoved under my door? What good would that have done?”
“You could’ve told me,” I shot back, my voice lowering but no less firm, each word deliberate. “Or Quinn. Someone. Anyone .”
Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowing like I’d struck a nerve. “I told Quinn, okay? But I downplayed it. A lot. I didn’t want her to freak out or think I couldn’t handle myself.”
I froze as the weight of her words sank in. “You downplayed it?” The disbelief in my voice was undeniable.
“Yes,” she admitted, her tone turning defensive, her shoulders straightening as if to brace against an invisible force. “I didn’t want her to worry. She gave me your number, Jaxon. Told me to use it if I needed to. I thought I didn’t need to.”
I stared at her, the storm inside me threatening to spill over. “You didn’t think you needed to?” My words echoed her own and came out rougher than intended, but I couldn’t help it. “Someone’s been stalking you, threatening you, and you didn’t think you needed to reach out?”
Her eyes flashed with frustration, “It’s not like you’re all warm and fuzzy towards me, is it?!”
The words hit like a slap, sharp and unexpected. I blinked, momentarily stunned by her outburst. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” she said, her voice rising, “You act like I’m just some nuisance half the time! Like I’m stepping on your precious territory or wasting your oh-so-valuable time.”
“That’s not—” I started, but she cut me off, her voice cracking as she continued.
“Now you’re standing here, furious at me for not coming to you when, let’s be honest, you’re not exactly the most approachable person on the planet, Jax.”
Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. She was right — damn it, she was right. I wasn’t warm and fuzzy. Hell, I wasn’t even mildly inviting most of the time. But that didn’t mean I didn’t care.
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face. “I might not be the warmest guy, fine. But you think I wouldn’t want to know about this? That I wouldn’t do something to help?”
She blinked, the fight in her expression faltering for a moment, but she quickly squared her shoulders. “I don’t need anyone to keep me safe. I can handle myself.”
“Okay, sure. That may very well be the case. But here’s the thing.” I paused, my gaze fixed on hers. “Right now, it doesn’t look like it.”
Madeline said nothing, her defiance wavering under the weight of my stare.
“I need to know,” I continued, my edged with quiet urgency, “what exactly your angle is. What are you doing around here? What are you trying to find?”
She stiffened, her chin tilting up defensively. “Why?” she asked, her tone sharper than necessary.
“Because,” I said, “someone clearly doesn’t like what you’re doing. And if you’re not careful, it’s going to get worse.”
She crossed her arms, the motion more protective than defiant. “I’m not in over my head,” she muttered.
I arched an eyebrow, leaning just slightly closer. “The note, the guy on the street — you don’t think that’s enough of a sign to pump the brakes?”
Her brow furrowed, and I took the chance to press further. “I’m asking because I want to help keep you safe, not because I think you can’t handle yourself.”
She didn’t say anything, but the way her shoulders dropped just slightly told me I was getting through, even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud.
“Tell me what’s going on. Not because I’m prying, not because I’m going to have you thrown out, but because this is clearly pissing someone off enough to threaten you. And that’s not something I’m okay with, Scout. It’s just…not.”
Madeline hesitated, her stare darting to the side like she was trying to find an escape route. When she finally met my eyes, her expression was conflicted, like she was waging some internal battle.
“I…” she started, then stopped, her lips pressing into a thin line.
I stayed silent, giving her the space to speak. Pushing her too hard now would only make her retreat.
She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “Fine,” she muttered, almost to herself. “You want the truth? Here it is.”
I crossed my arms, waiting, keeping my expression neutral even as my curiosity — and my concern — kicked into overdrive.
“I’m a journalist,” she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve been working on a story about the Vegas club scene — about how places like this operate. The exclusivity, the power players, high rollers, the money… everything.”
Her voice was steadier now, though I could still see the tension in her posture. “I heard whispers about Club V — about how it’s not just a club but something bigger. Something… darker.”
I felt my jaw tighten but didn’t interrupt her.
“That’s why I’ve been here so much,” she continued. “At first, it was just research — trying to get a feel for the place, see who came and went. But then…” She trailed off, her gaze flicking to the side again before she let out another frustrated sigh.
“Then I started getting threats,” she said quietly. “First, it was a note under my door. Then the guy in the mask. And now, whoever slipped that note to me tonight.”
She paused, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. I didn’t plan to…” She hesitated again, then shook her head. “I didn’t plan to make friends, okay? Quinn was just supposed to be a way to blend in, to get closer to people who might know something. But she’s…”
Madeline’s voice softened, and a flicker of guilt crossed her face. “She’s a good person, and now I feel like I’ve dragged her into something without meaning to.”
I stared at her, taking in her words, the tension in her shoulders, the vulnerability she was trying so hard to mask.
“So that’s it,” she finished, her voice quieter now. “That’s why I’ve been around so much. That’s why I didn’t tell you or anyone else, and that’s why I can’t just walk away now. No matter how many threats I get. Because if I do, the story dies with me.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and charged, and I felt a slow, simmering anger building in my chest — not at her, but at whoever had made her feel like she had to carry all this alone.
I exhaled slowly, my gaze locking onto hers. “You’re in over your head, Madeline.” I said quietly, mulling her revelation over. “But you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “You might not trust me fully, and that’s fine. But you need someone watching your back — whether you like it or not. You’re damn lucky Quinn got you this far without realizing the full scope of what’s going on.”
Her eyes softened slightly, and she let out a reluctant sigh. “I didn’t mean for it to get this complicated.”
“Yeah,” I said, my tone dry but not unkind. “Complicated seems to follow you around.”
For the first time, a faint, wry smile tugged at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“This isn’t over,” I said, my voice firm. “Not by a long shot. But you’re not going to get through it by playing lone wolf.”
She nodded slowly, and though she didn’t say it out loud, I could see the slightest flicker of relief in her expression. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.