Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
S now falls softly from the skies, blanketing the city in a false sense of calm.
I stand at the window, watching cabs fishtail around corners and pedestrians skate across icy sidewalks.
Despite the seasonal beauty outside, a quiet dread sits heavy in my chest, like a storm cloud that refuses to lift.
I’d rather bury my head in the sand until spring.
My to-do list is overwhelming, and one case in particular has me stuck in a loop I can’t break.
Still, the office is closed for the holidays, which means I have a week of reprieve, time to live in pajamas, eat too much ice cream, and endure Lexie’s insistence on a proper Christmas dinner.
This Christmas is different. It’s the first I’ll spend with Lexie in years, since before Cooper and I got together. That was nearly eight years ago.
After my parents died, Lexie’s father took me in like I was his own.
For a long time, Christmas with them became my new tradition—something steady and warm to hold onto when everything else felt like it had fallen apart.
Her dad always made sure I felt welcome, like I belonged, and Lexie… she never let me feel alone.
But life has a way of shifting things. Distance, time, relationships. It all piled up, and somewhere along the way, our tradition slipped through the cracks.
Now, for the first time in years, I’m coming back to that warmth. Back to the only real family I’ve known since losing mine. Spending Christmas with Lexie and her dad again feels like coming home.
And honestly? I’m excited. Nervous, a little. But mostly excited. Because after everything, being with them—especially now—feels like something I didn’t realize how much I missed.
Family isn’t always blood. Sometimes, it’s the people who choose you when the world falls apart.
I lock my case files away, the metallic click of the drawer closing sounding louder than it should in the stillness of my office.
It's late, later than I’m meant to be working, but the silence has been good for focus, for avoiding the weight of everything else.
I lean back in my chair and exhale slowly, rolling the tension from my shoulders.
For the first time all day, I let myself feel the quiet.
Until my phone buzzes on my desk.
Axel: I have something for you. A.
A smile tugs at my lips. I feel like a teenager again; giddy and nervous.
No one has ever made me feel the way Axel does.
Safe and vulnerable all at once. It’s been four days since our “date,” but every morning, without fail, he sends me a message just to say he’s thinking of me.
I haven’t seen him, but I’ve told myself it’s just because he’s busy.
He hasn’t given me a reason to think otherwise.
Me: What is it?
Axel: Come outside and find out. A.
I grab my coat and head outside, stepping into the quiet hush of a city blanketed in slush and glittering snow.
The air is crisp, biting at my cheeks, and my boots crunch softly against the salted pavement.
The sidewalks have been scraped clear, but a thin, treacherous sheen of ice still glimmers under the streetlights, catching the glow like cracked glass .
I tuck my hands deeper into my pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold—then I see him.
My heart stutters. For a moment, I forget about the biting wind, the snow clinging to my boots, the chill seeping through my coat. Everything else blurs. It's like the world narrows to just him.
Axel .
His presence hits me like a wave; unexpected, overwhelming.
That familiar pull coils tight in my chest, equal parts dread and longing.
I hadn’t prepared for this. I thought I was done flinching at the sight of him, done feeling this…
ache. But there it is again. That maddening mix of adrenaline and heat, of history and unfinished things.
A shiver runs through me, and it has nothing to do with the cold.
He leans against his black Mercedes like he owns the night, one ankle crossed over the other, a picture of relaxed control.
Snowflakes cling to his dark hair and the collar of his wool coat, softening the sharp angles of his face but doing nothing to dull his intensity.
He’s as striking as ever—dangerous, magnetic, untouchable.
He looks like a shadow come to life, too bold and beautiful for the delicate snowfall swirling around us.
My breath catches, visible in the air between us. And for a moment, the cold fades. All I can feel is the weight of his gaze, the storm he always carries with him, and the way my pulse begins to race—like I’ve stepped into something I can’t undo.
“Hey,” he calls, striding toward me with a grin.
His arms circle my waist, and before I can react, he spins me in the air and crashes his mouth onto mine.
Our kiss is urgent, fierce, and consuming, like we’re starving for each other, like the space between us has been unbearable.
The moment our lips connect, everything else ceases to exist. I melt into him, surrendering to the heat, the hunger, the storm we’ve both tried too long to ignore.
I open my mouth, letting him in, and his tongue finds mine with a desperation that makes my knees weak.
It’s not just a kiss; it’s a collision of need and memory, of all the words we haven’t said.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, anchoring me to him like he’s afraid I’ll slip away.
But I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not while we’re burning like this.
A soft moan escapes me, unguarded and aching, and I don’t try to hide it.
I want him to hear it, to know what he does to me.
My fingers clutch the front of his coat, pulling him closer, needing him closer, as if I could bury myself in him and find something like safety.
Or salvation. Or maybe just the truth of how much I still want him.
When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless. “Fuck, I missed you,” he murmurs, burying his face in my neck.
“It’s only been four days,” I reply, dazed and laughing as he lowers me to the ground.
“Four days is too long.” He spins around and opens the car door with a flourish. “After you.”
I slide into the warm interior, watching him round the car and settle beside me.
“This isn’t my gift, is it?” I tease.
“Only part of it.” He smirks, holding out a box.
I hesitate. Something about Axel always keeps me off-balance, unsteady in the best and worst ways.
“What is it?” I ask, wary.
“Open it.”
I pop the clasp. Nestled inside, glinting under the soft interior light, is a white gold watch.
“Wow,” I breathe, fingers brushing the metal. It’s cool to the touch, but the warmth behind this gesture contradicts it.
“It’s eighteen-carat white gold,” he says casually.
My eyes snap up to his. The watch is beautiful. Extravagant. Too much.
“I can’t accept this,” I say, shaking my head.
His hands find my face. “Why not?” he asks gently. “You don’t like it? ”
“No! It’s beautiful. I just—” I falter, struggling for the words. I haven’t told him why Christmas weighs so heavily on me. It’s not the gifts or the traditions, it’s what they represent. And somehow, I think Axel knows that.
“I don’t… do Christmas,” I murmur.
“I figured,” he replies softly. “It’s just a gift, Cassie. Nothing more.”
His sincerity cuts through my defenses. I nod, and he takes the watch from the box, gently fastening it around my wrist. The gold kisses my skin, cold and delicate.
“I didn’t get you anything,” I whisper as he trails a finger along my collarbone.
“I can think of a few ways you could repay me.”
I lean in and kiss him, slow and promising. “I think I can manage that.”
“Then we better get you home.”
He drives in silence, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally drifting toward mine. Snow falls heavier now, Christmas carols playing faintly through the speakers. I ignore the cheeriness. It feels like it belongs to another world.
We reach Lexie’s place twenty minutes later. Axel rounds the car, helping me up the porch steps.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask.
Instead of answering, he wraps his arms around me, pressing our bodies together as his warmth seeps through my coat. His lips find mine again, deep and lingering. When he finally pulls back, I whisper, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
But before we reach the door, Axel’s phone rings, sharp and sudden in the quiet.
He glances at the screen, frowning. “Hunter,” he mutters, jaw tightening. Without another word, he steps away to answer, his tone clipped as he lifts the phone to his ear.
I stay behind at the top of the steps, arms wrapped tightly around myself, the cold gnawing at my skin. A strange heaviness settles in my chest, as if the air itself has thickened. The wind stills. Even the street seems to hold its breath.
A prickling sensation crawls along the back of my neck.
I turn my head slowly, scanning the quiet street, the empty sidewalk, the windows staring back at me like hollow eyes. There's no one—no movement, no sound beyond Axel’s low voice just out of earshot.
But I feel it.
That unmistakable sensation—like I’m being watched. Hunted.
The hairs on my arms rise. My heartbeat quickens, thudding louder in my ears than it should.
And then?—
BANG.
The crack of the gunshot splits the silence like lightning, echoing off the brick and snow and bone.
Time freezes.
Axel’s phone hits the pavement.
And then…he falls.
“Axel!” I scream, rushing down the steps. My knees scrape the concrete, burying beneath the snow as I collapse beside him. His eyes are wide, dazed, pain etched into every line of his face. Blood pours through his fingers where he clutches his stomach.
“No, no, no,” I cry, panic rising in my throat like a tide I can’t hold back. I press my hands over the wound, trying to stop the impossible rush of blood. It’s everywhere; soaking into my skin, into the snow, into him. “Stay with me, please. Stay with me!”
His voice is barely more than a ghost, a shiver of sound. “Get…inside…”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I sob, cradling his face in shaking hands. My fingers tremble as they brush over his jaw, trying to memorize the shape of him in case—no, I can’t think that. I won’t.
The phone is still lit in the snow, glowing like a lifeline. I fumble for it, fingers slick and clumsy with blood, slipping over the screen until I finally hear the voice I need.
“Cassie? Cassie, what happened?”
“Hunter,” I gasp, barely able to get the words out. My chest feels like it’s caving in. “He’s been shot. There’s so much blood—what do I do? Do I call?—?”
“Cassie. Listen to me.” Hunter’s voice is a rock in a storm, calm but unyielding. “Cover the wound. Stem the bleeding. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I sob, stripping off my coat with shaking hands.
The cold stings, but I don’t really feel it.
I only feel Axel slipping away. I press the fabric hard against the wound, and he groans in pain, his body jolting.
One blood-slick hand finds my face, his touch both grounding and terrifyingly weak.
“I haven’t got you anything,” I whisper through the flood of tears, desperate, wrecked. My heart is fracturing with every second, every ragged breath he takes. “I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”
“You did,” he breathes, and his eyes—those wild, stormy eyes—look into mine with something like peace. “You stayed.”
I nod, fiercely, tears pouring down my cheeks. “I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”
I can see it in them, clear as day: the worry, the desperation, the unspoken question of whether this is the end.
He would’ve masked it better under normal circumstances; he’s built for control, for keeping others at bay.
But right now, all of that is unraveling.
His resolve is bleeding out of him, seeping into the snow beneath us like the blood soaking my knees, my hands, my soul.
Then his eyes flutter closed.
“Axel!” I shout, my voice cracking as I press my forehead to his. I feel his blood against my skin, warm and terrifying. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me. Please!”
The world narrows down to this moment, his heartbeat under my hands, the snow falling around us, the scent of blood and iron. The fear. The unbearable weight of what I stand to lose.
“Cassie, is he breathing?” Hunter bellows through the phone, his voice sharp and commanding, yanking me out of the haze of panic.
My gaze drops to Axel’s chest. The shallow rise.
The trembling fall. “Y… yes,” I stammer, my voice cracking as my lip quivers.
Axel squeezes my hand with the last of his strength, and I can’t stop the tears spilling down my cheeks.
His dark eyes, usually so unreadable, so resolute, are glassy now, brimming with fear and pain.
“It’s bad, Hunter,” I whisper, barely audible over the rush of my own heartbeat. The words feel like surrender. “There’s so much blood.” My voice breaks again, the horror too big for language.
“I know,” Hunter says firmly. “It’s going to be okay.” His steadiness cuts through the chaos, a fragile lifeline. “I’m on my way. Ryder called the ambulance. They’re close.”
In the background, I hear the guttural roar of an engine, the blare of a horn, tires screeching against pavement. Then the line clicks off, leaving behind a silence that screams louder than any siren.
I clutch Axel’s face with both hands, desperate to anchor him to me, to this moment, this breath, this life. My forehead presses to his as the wind howls around us, slicing through the night like a blade.
“Axel,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t go.”
His chest stills.
“No!” I sob, pulling him closer. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.” I’m pleading now, breaking apart in real time, unable to stop the tidal wave of dread closing in around me.
The snow keeps falling. The blood keeps pooling.
And I just hold him. Because it’s all I can do.