Chapter 16 – Jaxon
The drive back to the apartment was silent, but the tension in the car was suffocating. My hands gripped the wheel tighter than they needed to, my knuckles white as I stared straight ahead, forcing myself to stay calm. Every muscle in my body was taut, my mind replaying Quinn’s words, the call Maddie had received, the way she’d looked when I’d stormed into the lounge.
Pale. Shaken. Hurt.
I’d failed her.
Quinn had come tearing into the back office, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, her voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. “Jax,” she’d snapped, her tone urgent. “We’ve got a problem.”
I hadn’t even needed to ask. The look on her face — the worry, the tension — had told me everything I needed to know.
“Maddie?” I’d asked, already standing, my chest tightening.
“Some asshole called her,” she said, her voice clipped but edged with concern. “Threatened her again. She didn’t say much, but you need to get out there. Now.”
The blood had drained from my face as I’d pushed past her, my heart pounding as I made my way to the lounge.
I didn’t even stop to think about what I was going to say or how I was going to fix it. All I knew was that I needed to see her, to make sure she was okay.
And then I saw her.
She’d been perched on a barstool, her back to me, but the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands gripped the edge of the counter, had said it all. Quinn had been standing nearby, her usual sharp wit tempered with something softer, more protective.
When Madeline turned to face me, her expression had knocked the breath out of my lungs.
She’d looked so small, so fragile in that moment, a stark contrast to the spitfire woman I’d come to know. The woman who faced challenges with stubborn defiance, who didn’t back down from anyone or anything, was now sitting before me, pale and trembling. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been fighting back tears for hours, and her hands fidgeted in her lap — a tell she probably didn’t even realize she had.
But it was the fear in her eyes that hit me the hardest. She was trying so damn hard to mask it, to keep that fierce composure she always wore like armour. But I could see it, simmering just beneath the surface.
Madeline Hart, the woman who refused to let anyone see her break, was breaking in front of me. And all I wanted to do was take every ounce of that fear, every burden she carried, and shoulder it myself.
I knew better than to coddle her. She wouldn’t want that, wouldn’t accept it.
“Scout,” I said softly, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heart.
Her gaze flicked up to mine, and for a moment, I saw it — vulnerability, raw and unguarded. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same stubborn fire she always clung to.
But I’d seen it.
I’d wanted to fix it, to say something — anything — that would make it better. But all I could do was stand there, feeling the weight of my own failure settle like a stone in my chest.
“I’m fine,” she’d said, her voice shaky but defiant. “Really.”
She wasn’t fine. Not even close.
I’d known then, in that moment, that I’d let her down. That every promise I’d made to keep her safe had been hollow.
Now, as I drove through the quiet streets, the memory of that moment played on a loop in my head, taunting me.
Her voice. Her face…
The thought burned in my chest, a mix of guilt and anger that I couldn’t untangle. I was supposed to protect her. That was the whole damn point of her being with me. Everything had been running smoothly for weeks. No further threats. No more encounters. And yet, someone had gotten to her and I hadn’t seen it coming. I’d let my guard down.
I glanced at her briefly out of the corner of my eye. She was staring out the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
When we pulled into the garage, I parked, killed the engine, and sat there for a second, gripping the steering wheel like it might keep me from snapping. My jaw ached from how hard I’d been clenching it.
“You’re quiet,” she said softly, breaking the silence.
I didn’t answer right away. My anger was a wild, simmering thing, and I didn’t trust myself to speak without it boiling over.
“Jaxon,” she pressed, turning to face me.
That did it. “What the fuck were you thinking, Madeline?” I barked, my voice sharper than I intended. I turned to face her, the frustration I’d been holding back spilling out. “Answering an unknown number? After everything? Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed as her own anger flared. “I didn’t know who it was! It’s not like it came with a warning label!”
“That’s exactly the point,” I shot back, my voice rising. “You don’t answer calls like that! You don’t take risks like that. Do you even understand how dangerous this is?”
“I understand just fine,” she snapped, her voice shaking now, though whether it was from anger or something else, I couldn’t tell. “What I don’t understand is why you’re yelling at me like I’m some kind of reckless teenager! I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You answered the phone,” I said, my voice low but laced with heat.
She laughed bitterly, throwing up her hands. “Oh, I see. Everything’s my fault now, right? Because clearly, the real problem here is me — not the guy threatening me. Just me, making your life harder.”
Her words hit like a gut punch, knocking some of the wind out of my anger. “That’s not what I meant,” I said, though the tension in my voice hadn’t fully eased.
“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice breaking. “Because that’s what it feels like. You act like I’m some burden you’re stuck babysitting — like I can’t do anything without you hovering over me and barking orders.”
I ran a hand down my face, dragging in a rough breath. “Maddie—”
“No,” she cut me off, her eyes blazing. “I’m not a child, Jax!”
Her mouth opened, then closed, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. For a second, I thought she might yell again, but then her expression shifted. She blinked rapidly, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I don’t need this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She fumbled with the door handle and shoved it open, stepping out before I could stop her.
“Madeline, wait.”
She ignored me, slamming the door behind her as she stormed toward the elevator.
I barely managed to catch the elevator before the doors closed, slipping in behind her without a word. Maddie stood with her arms crossed, staring straight ahead, her jaw tight and her eyes fixed on the numbers ticking up.
When we reached the apartment, she stormed inside without waiting for me. I followed, closing the door behind me with more force than necessary.
“Scout,” I said, my voice low but taut.
She spun around, eyes blazing. “What?” she snapped. “You’re going to yell at me some more? Lecture me about how I’m doing everything wrong?”
I clenched my fists at my sides, struggling to keep my voice calm. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” she laughed bitterly, the sound sharp enough to sting. “By controlling every move I make? By treating me like some fragile little thing that can’t handle herself?”
“That’s not what I’m doing, and you know that’s not how it is,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to keep my voice calm even as frustration bubbled just beneath the surface.
“Really?” She stepped closer, fire in her eyes. “Because that’s exactly what it feels like.I’ve been looking out for myself long before you came along, Jaxon. I don’t need you treating me like I’m some clueless damsel!”
Her words hit me square in the chest, and my temper snapped. “Looking out for yourself?” I shot back, my voice rising. “Is that what you call it? Answering the phone to every damn person even if you don’t know them?”
“Why do you even care so much? Why do you think it’s your job to fix everything?” she snapped, her voice trembling.
Her words knocked the air out of me, but I didn’t back down. I couldn’t. The frustration, the guilt—it was all boiling over, and I didn’t know how to stop it. “Would it really satisfy you that much for me to tell you that I care about you?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended. “Because the thought of something happening to you drives me fucking insane.”
She opened her mouth to retort, her eyes blazing with anger, but I didn’t let her.
“You’re so goddamn stubborn, it’s like—” The words spilled out before I could stop them, sharp and biting.
“—please tell me, Scout,” I continued, my voice rising, the raw edge of my frustration spilling into every syllable. “I really am at a fucking loss. What fucked you up so badly you can’t even listen to someone who has authority and knows about this shit? Do you have fucking daddy issues or something?”
The second the words left my mouth, the room went still.
Madeline froze, her entire body going still like she’d been struck. Her eyes widened, the fire that had fuelled her moments ago snuffed out in an instant. For a beat, she just stared at me, as though she couldn’t quite believe what I’d said.
I couldn’t quite believe it either.
Fuck.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I have to go for the kill? I’d said it to get a rise out of her, to push through that damn wall of hers, but the moment it left my mouth, I knew it wasn’t just cruel — it was something else. Something bigger.
Her reaction told me everything. I hadn’t just hit a nerve — I’d hit something deep. Something raw.
Judging by the way her face twisted, by the tremor in her hands, I’d torn open a wound I didn’t even know existed.
When she finally spoke, her voice was trembling, low and tight, like she was trying to hold herself together. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Her tone wasn’t loud, but it cut through me like a blade, sharper than if she’d screamed.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The weight of what I’d said — what I’d implied — settled between us like a heavy, suffocating cloud.
I’d royally fucked up. That much was obvious. But what hit me harder than her words or her glare was the realization that I didn’t even fully understand why . Why that comment — of all the shit I could’ve thrown at her — had caused her to freeze like that, to look at me like I’d gutted her.
All I knew was that I’d hurt her badly. Worse than I’d ever intended. Worse than I’d thought I could.
The guilt twisted in my chest like a knife, sharp and relentless, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know how to fix it.
“I didn’t mean it,” I said quickly, my voice breaking, but it sounded hollow even to me. “Scout, I—”
Her hand shot up, cutting me off, and the way her lips pressed into a trembling line told me I’d crossed a line I couldn’t take back.
“No,” she said, her voice shaking as she took a step back, putting space between us. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to throw shit like that at me, like it’s some flippant little insult , and then try to take it back because you realize you’ve gone too far.”
“Maddie, I—”
“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice rising now. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her expression was hard, her jaw set. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Jaxon. Not about my father. Not about my family. Not about all the shit I’ve been through to get here.”
I stepped forward, reaching out instinctively. “I’m angry, I wasn’t thinking—”
“No, you were thinking,” she snapped, her voice cracking. “You were thinking that you know everything. That you get to decide what’s best for me. That you’re the only one who has it figured out. Newsflash, Jax: you don’t know a fucking thing about me. You’ve known me for maybe 2 months, tops. That doesn’t mean you know me.”
“Madeline—”
I started, my voice low, but she cut me off with a sharp laugh, bitter and raw.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, her arms crossing tightly over her chest again. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Like it means something to you. Like I’m someone you can just… control. Because that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Control?”
I shook my head, stepping toward her cautiously. “It’s not about control—”
“Then what is it about?” she demanded, her voice rising. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, her face flushed, but her stance didn’t waver. “Is it guilt? Fear? Or is it just that you can’t stand not being the one calling the shots?”
I flinched, her words hitting harder than I’d expected, but I didn’t back down. “You think I don’t know how strong you are? How capable? You think I don’t see that every damn day ?”
“Then why do you treat me like I’m fragile?” she snapped, stepping closer now, her anger crackling in the air between us. “Why do you act like you’re the only one who knows what’s best?”
She turned and stormed into her room without another word, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the apartment, leaving me standing there, my chest tight and my throat dry.
The door slammed so hard it rattled the walls, leaving me alone in the heavy silence of the apartment. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at it, the sound still echoing in my ears.
“Madeline,” I called softly, taking a step toward her room. My voice didn’t even sound like my own—low, unsure, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean it. I swear I didn’t mean it.”
I knocked once, hesitating when there was no answer. My hand lingered on the doorframe as I waited, listening for any sound on the other side. Anything.
Still nothing.
The silence wasn’t just silence—it was shutting down, shutting me out.
My chest tightened as I leaned my forehead against the door, dragging in a slow, uneven breath. “Please, Scout,” I said quietly. “Talk to me.”
But there was no response. Just the faint sound of movement — drawers opening, the scrape of something being dragged across the floor. My stomach dropped as realization hit me like a brick.
She was packing.