Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
T he following morning comes far too quickly, dragging daylight into a night that never really ended.
I haven’t slept a wink. I spent the entire time tossing and turning beneath tangled sheets, my mind running in circles— how do I get out of this?
How do I make it all go away? I always have an answer, a workaround, a fix.
But this time, I come up with nothing but silence.
I peel myself out of bed slowly, every muscle aching from exhaustion.
My hand rubs at my tired, swollen eyes as I glance to the empty space beside me.
Cooper never came to bed and that forces a weight to settle on my chest. We're growing distant, and I know it. I can feel the space widening between us like a fault line, subtle but dangerous. Taking this case, being around Axel, being immersed in this tangle of lies and tension—it’s like I’m willingly pushing the wedge in deeper.
And the worst part? I’m not sure I have it in me to stop it.
“Morning,” comes Cooper’s voice, quiet and careful from the doorway.
I turn. He looks rough—hair a mess, dark circles carved under his eyes. He looks exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with sleep .
“I didn’t hear you come home last night,” he says, stepping closer.
“I went for drinks with Jada,” I lie easily, but even I wince at how flat and disconnected I sound.
“You have a good time?” he asks, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed, his voice strained, like he already knows the answer doesn’t matter.
“Yeah,” I answer with a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. It feels like there’s something invisible pressing between us. Not quite anger, not quite resentment. Just distance.
“I’m not gonna ask why you have this.”
Cooper suddenly pulls a brown file out from behind his back—the same one Axel gave me—and places it on the bed between us like it’s radioactive. My stomach lurches.
“Just be careful, Cass.” His voice is firm, but there’s something else under it. Disappointment? Fear?
I don’t have the chance to decipher it further because he’s gone, walking out of the room without looking back, leaving me staring at his retreating figure like I’m watching the last piece of something important fall away.
It’s not just the file that has my anxiety coiled tight anymore.
It’s the thought of Cooper—of what he might’ve seen, what he might suspect.
I should’ve hidden it better. Locked it away.
But I didn’t, and now it feels like I’ve handed over pieces of something fragile without realizing it was already cracking.
I reach for the file slowly, like it might detonate, then trace the edge with my fingertips before flipping it open.
Phone bills. Encrypted emails filled with blackmail. Transcripts of late-night conversations from an unknown number. Some dates are circled, others highlighted. There’s a pattern here—I just can’t see it yet.
What the fuck.
My blood runs cold. These aren’t just random pieces of information. This is evidence. And if Axel gave it to me, then it’s his lifeline—his proof. His way out. Which only means one thing: someone’s trying to frame him, and I’m standing right in the crosshairs.
It’s too much. Too heavy. Too early on a Saturday morning to be staring down the barrel of something this dangerous. So I do the only thing I can—run.
I lace up my shoes and bolt from the apartment like the air’s turned toxic.
The cool wind stings my face as my feet pound the pavement, slicing through my skin and driving the panic deeper into my bones. But it helps. It always helps. Each step is a distraction, each breath a reset. My thoughts don’t matter here. Only movement does.
I round the corner and veer into the park at the end of the road. I slow at the crossing, glancing around with a nervous twitch. A shiver slides down my spine, but it’s not from the crisp morning air—it’s something else. A presence.
I scan the sidewalk. Left. Right.
Nothing .
Still, the feeling follows me as I cut through the winding trail of the park. Like someone just behind me, just out of sight. It could be paranoia, or maybe it’s instinct. At this point, I’m not sure there’s a difference.
The chill stays with me even after I leave the park and my street comes into view. My pace falters as a sleek black SUV rolls up beside me, the tinted window lowering with a quiet hum.
“Cassie.”
I freeze.
Axel says my name like a statement. Or a warning.
His eyes lock onto mine through the open window—dark, sharp, and unreadable. They scan me slowly, lingering in a way that makes my skin prickle under my damp clothes. I catch the flicker of approval in his expression as his gaze drags from my legs up to my chest. He doesn’t even try to hide it.
“Get in,” he orders flatly .
“What? No, my apartment’s right there.” I motion vaguely toward the building just ahead.
He leans slightly closer. “Unless you want to have this conversation in front of your roommate, I suggest you get in.”
His tone leaves no room for argument. It’s calm, cold. Paralysingly commanding.
I hesitate only a second before sliding into the passenger seat. The door shuts with a dull thunk that feels too final.
“I take it, you read the file?” Axel asks, eyes forward, voice low and clipped.
“Briefly,” I admit. “I need to sit down properly and go through it.”
He finally looks at me. Just once. But it’s enough to unravel me. His eyes are bottomless—dark wells that threaten to suck me in whole.
“You’ve not given me a lot of time, Axel. I need time.”
“Time is something I don’t have, Cassie.”
He exhales, scrubbing a hand down his face. The exhaustion rolls off him like heat. He looks like hell. Like he hasn’t slept in days. He probably hasn’t. He’s probably waiting for the whole thing to come crashing down.
The urge to reach out—to touch him, to anchor him—comes fast and sharp. But I don’t. He doesn’t need comfort. He needs a miracle.
“I’ll get to it today,” I answer quietly.
He nods once, and the moment stretches thin between us, held together by too many words left unsaid. I open the door before anyone can see us, before I let myself fall any deeper into the mess of this man and everything that’s coming with him.
“ Y ou have got to be shitting me!” Lexie chokes out through the phone.
Classic Lexie—never one to sugarcoat. I should’ve expected this reaction.
“Axel. Fucking. Bonanno?”
“Yes,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face and dropping my head into it.
After my conversation with Axel this morning, I’ve spent most of the day trying to figure out what to do with the folder he handed me. So far, I’ve only landed on one answer: call Lexie.
She’s been my best friend since we were kids and now works as a detective for the NYPD.
It’s a risky ask, I know. She's got a badge, and I'm asking her to help me navigate a case connected to one of Manhattan's most dangerous crime families. But I need someone I can trust—and Lexie’s always been that person.
Mostly .
“I’m not even on the case! Which, for the record, is exactly what’s saving your ass right now,” she grumbles. Her voice muffles, and I hear the telltale rustle of a paper bag. Donuts . “Do you realize what would happen if anyone caught me helping you?”
“You said so yourself there’s no direct conflict. All I need is a name, Lex. One name. That’s it.” My voice drops, softens. “Please.”
She groans, mouth full. “You owe me. Big time.”
I smile despite everything.
“What’s the number?”
I rattle off the digits that show up on the call logs repeatedly—same time, same pattern, every day.
She goes quiet for a moment, the clicking of her fingers on the keyboard is all I hear before she finally speaks.
“It’s a burner.” The words land heavy.
“Shit.” I slam my forehead against the kitchen table. I’m getting nowhere and my time is running out.
“Wait.” I hear her typing again. “That’s not good. ”
“What?”
She moves again—doors creaking, footsteps echoing, her voice now a whisper.
“Cass, this is serious. Whatever Axel’s pulled you into? It’s deeper than I think even you realize.”
A chill runs up my spine. “What are you talking about?”
“One of the calls from that number… it pinged off a tower near the D.A.’s office. Inside, maybe.” Her voice tightens. “If that’s connected to the Mayor’s death...”
She doesn’t need to finish.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I get it.”
It’s the perfect frame job. Kill the Mayor. Blame it on one of The Five. Let the city breathe a sigh of relief thinking justice has been served. Axel Bonanno’s reputation does the dirty work for them.
But what they didn’t count on? Him fighting back. Or me stepping in.
“You don’t think he did it,” Lexie says, not as a question, but as an observation.
I pause. “I don’t know. But I do know he wasn’t making calls from inside the D.A.’s office.”
There’s a long silence. I can practically hear her brain running laps.
“Well...” she starts again, chewing noisily. “You know how I feel about The Five.”
“Still working that case?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
“Nowhere near closing it.” She sounds bone-tired.
What I don’t know is which of The Five she’s chasing. I only know she’s been building a quiet case in the background for a few months, certain there’s a link to them. She’s always had a bone to pick with the city’s underworld, and now she has a shot, she won’t stop until justice is served.
“I know they’re involved,” she mutters.
Her certainty twists something in my gut. Because if she’s right, if this all circles back to The Five… and to Axel …
“Lex,” I begin.
“Don’t.” Her voice softens, the tension bleeding out. “You owe me. That’s enough.”
“Oh yeah? What’s it gonna cost me?”
She snorts. “That’s classified. But trust me—I’ll collect.”
The sound of another donut being stuffed into her mouth makes me smile.
Talking to Lexie always clears the fog. Even when the whole world feels like it's burning, she grounds me. She always has.