Chapter 4 Jaxon #2
All the same, I doubt she would even recognize me now.
Hell, I barely recognize myself. Not just my physical appearance, but down to my soul.
My blue eyes, once described as brilliant, have shifted to gray after I took my Rite, a ceremony to secure my lineage within the Corinthum.
Historically, it is well known that eye color shifts, a sign of our God's mark. Blue eyes become slightly paler, but in my case, they turn near-iridescent gray, which stunned everyone, so even that doesn’t help.
Shuffling through the cabinets, I search for my pre-workout, only to land on that grass-fed garbage Diane buys in bulk.
However, I decide to give it a try. I mix the chalky-smelling powder in my shaker bottle and take a sip—fuck.
It tastes like shit. Stifling my gag, I dump it down the sink, then rummage around the cabinets for my usual culprit.
Max chuckles, a dark, hollow sound, causing my hands to freeze mid-search.
“What’s going on, Max?” I ask, pressing my palms flat on the cool marble counter, bracing for a bombshell I feel coming my way.
I hear him shuffle some papers on his end. “Remember when I told you something happened a while back?”
I don’t have to think that hard. When it comes to Naomi, everything is always compartmentalized right on the edge of my consciousness. “Yeah, you told me you didn’t want to discuss it. You used your ‘Kratos’ voice, so I didn’t push. What happened?”
His chuckle lacks any humor; it sounds tense and hollow. “Yeah, I remember. Sorry about that. We were going through a lot, and my father didn't want it getting out.”
“Understandable,” I mutter, knowing that it’s got to be serious if they’d kept it under wraps. "But I’m listening now.”
“Naomi was kidnapped.”
I swear, my heart free-falls into my fucking stomach.
The conversation veered so sharply that it feels like I have been sucker-punched.
I stumble toward a barstool, the guilt hitting me like a freight train.
I’d kept tabs on her—surface-level shit—but never a deep dive.
Never enough to notice something like that.
And if Alaric Blaine—head of BAS technologies, and patriarch of the Blaine family—wanted something buried, good luck finding it.
“What do you mean?” I grind out the word like acid on my tongue.
“I saw the vacation photos on Instagram. She looks… good.” I choose my words carefully.
I only keep the app because Diane insists on it for the company.
Max is an Insta-addict, sending shit my way all the time, mostly dumb stuff, but sometimes it’s family photos.
And Naomi looked more than reasonable. She’s not just the girl I remember—she’s a goddess. I don’t understand how this happened.
“Well, she’s not good, Jax. Far fucking from it.”
“How did you get her back?” I ask, leaning forward on my stool, the wood creaking beneath me as my heart pounds.
“That’s the crazy part. She just walked in the front doors one day.
Like she’d been out shopping or something.
Clean, nails done, no signs of… anything.
” He sounds bewildered. “Whoever took her, took care of her. It was eerie, but she won’t talk about it.
She just kept going on as if nothing happened. ”
That doesn’t sit right with me. No signs of abuse or physical trauma… she just reappeared like nothing happened?
We talk for a while, and Max fills me in on the few details he has.
The whole situation is twisted. But the only thing I know is—when I find out who did this, I’ll take absolute pleasure in watching them suffer.
I might have to take a page out of Kaios’ book and take them apart, piece by bloody, screaming piece.
“Thanks for listening, Jax. I’ve never really broken it down for anyone before,” Max admits, his voice heavy.
“You know I’m always here, brother.”
There’s a weighted pause, and in that moment, I know something is coming. Then, “Actually… I need your help.”
I groan inwardly, already knowing where this is headed. “What do you need?”
“She needs security. Someone she can feel safe around.”
I know exactly what he’s asking. He wants me. And I’m not sure I can keep my head around her. “I can get someone from my team—”
“It has to be you, Jaxon,” he cuts me off, a pleading edge to his tone.
I’m about to argue when he drops another bomb.
“She still has nightmares, you know. Late at night, she screams, loud enough to wake everyone in the house. It happened tonight. But the first time it happened, that’s when we knew.
Something happened to her man, something dark.
” His tone is jittery and haunted, “Six years later, and every year, around the anniversary of when she was taken, she wakes up in tears, screaming.”
I rub the spot between my brows, feeling the familiar ache of responsibility settling in, when all I want to do is find the person who did this and kill them.
It’ll take longer to find them if I have to be constantly at her side.
I can’t become the ruthless man I need to be if I have to be around her all the time; I have to have some semblance of civility.
Any time, any place, anywhere.
I let out a long breath. “Alright, Max. I’ll do it. But I’ll need to let my team know.”
“Tell whoever you need. I just want her to feel safe again.”
“When do I start?”
He chuckles lightly, tension breaking for a moment. “First, Mr. Knox, let’s talk pricing.”
“Max…” I grumble.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t be a dickhead.”
“I know, I know. But I had to ask.” He laughs, but there’s still that weight in his tone.
“Any time, any place, anywhere,” I remind him.
He echoes back, “Any time, any place, anywhere, Jaxon.”
“Now, get off my phone,” I chuckle, ending the call.
But the weight of what’s coming still presses down on me.