Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
S ince my visit, Axel hasn’t stopped sending messages.
It started the second Trigger dropped me off, a quick check-in to make sure I was safe.
But that one message turned into dozens.
Axel’s unraveling through my phone—every text laced with sharp protectiveness, his paranoia bleeding through the screen.
Even though it brings a smile to my face, I know we’re not out of the woods yet.
Now, more than ever, I feel it.
Eyes. Always on me.
Even when I whirl around in the street, searching for shadows or movement, there’s nothing. Just the echo of my own steps and the gnawing paranoia clawing at my spine. Maybe he’s rubbing off on me. Maybe I am going mad.
I shake off the thought and keep walking toward the subway, craving the anonymity of underground tunnels. A change of scenery. Something normal.
I stayed late at work, chipping away at case files, making more progress in the silence than I ever manage during daylight chaos.
Still, Axel’s messages cut through the silence, each one tugging at my attention, demanding a reply. I understand his fear. I do. But if he keeps unraveling like this, he’ll never claw his way out of the wreckage he’s drowning in.
I’m too lost in my own thoughts to notice the shift—until I’m slammed sideways into a dark alley.
My shoulder crashes into cold, rusted metal, a dumpster maybe, and the impact knocks the breath clean out of me.
I hit the ground hard, my bag slipping from my hand and spilling across the concrete like shrapnel.
Then I hear it. Laughter. Sick and jagged. A sound you only hear from someone who’s lost all sense of right and wrong.
“What the fuck?” I groan into the pitch-black void, pain radiating through my ribs.
A silhouette steps forward, dark and breathing hard.
I scramble, fingers clawing through broken glass and garbage as I search for my bag. I don’t even get the chance to scream before a hand clamps around my throat, dragging me up and slamming me against the wall. Brick digs into my spine as my windpipe folds beneath the pressure.
“Please,” I gasp, nails raking at the arm crushing my throat. My lungs scream for air, my chest seizing with pain. I try to kick, but my legs hang like dead weight, useless.
“Begging won’t get you anywhere, Caruthers,” a voice growls.
I freeze. I know that voice.
The streetlight slices through the darkness just enough to catch the angles of his face.
Aiden Daniels.
Hatred burns in his eyes. No remorse, no hesitation, just rage.
“I should finish you off,” he sneers.
My stomach drops when I see the gun in his hand, glinting as he lifts it slowly.
“Not such a big girl outside of court, are we?”
He’s trembling. Even with the weapon in hand, he’s trembling. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s scared of what happens after . Maybe it’s Axel’s name that haunts him. Maybe it’s me. Either way, I need to stall.
“Don’t… do… anything… stupid,” I rasp.
“Fucking call me stupid one more time!” he roars, driving the gun into my cheek. The cold steel cuts like ice, and I flinch.
A tiny sound escapes me, part whimper, part realization that I’ve misread this entire situation. “What… do… you… want?” I wheeze, eyes darting around the alley.
There’s nothing. No one.
“I need Axel gone. If he won’t die, I’ll just have to hit him where it hurts.”
The venom in his voice is undeniable. This isn’t some random attack—it’s war. And I’m the battleground.
“It was you,” I breathe. “The flowers?”
“Stop talking!” He shoves the barrel against my face, harder this time.
“Aiden, please?—”
He laughs, wild and unhinged. “Oh don’t act so surprised!”
“Why… would… you… do this?” My fingers dig into his wrist, but his grip is unbreakable.
“Because this city needs a cleanup,” he hisses, his sweat slicking onto me. “And you people are part of the fucking rot.”
“Killing him… is not… a cleanup.”
I’m barely upright now, toes scraping the ground, lungs collapsing. My vision blurs, stars exploding behind my eyes. I’m close to blacking out.
“Shut up!” he screams, yanking me forward and slamming me back again. My head cracks against the brick, dazing me.
Then I hear it.
The click of the safety.
He’s ready.
“Aiden… you don’t… want… to do this.”
“Oh, I do.” He grins like the devil.
And that’s when I see him. A second shadow down the alley.
Panic freezes me. If Aiden has backup, I’m dead .
“Hey!” a deep voice bellows.
Aiden jerks. His grip loosens just enough for him to slam a fist into my face.
Pain detonates through my jaw like a grenade going off beneath my skin.
The force sends me crashing to the ground, my knees slamming into the pavement as I crumple.
I’m coughing, choking on the bitter mix of blood and spit pooling in my mouth, thick and metallic.
My fingers fly to my cheek, finding it slick and hot—torn skin, maybe bruised bone.
The sting is blinding, radiating through my face like a live wire.
Tears spill over, unchecked, tracing hot, salty lines down my cheeks, but I bite back the sobs.
I won’t give him that. I won’t let him see me break, even as my body trembles and my breath stutters in my chest.
“Hey,” the voice comes again; gentler, closer.
I look up, eyes blurry, and recognize the sharp lines of his face.
Dark hair. Darker eyes.
Noah.
Relief crashes into me, and I sag into his hands.
“Cassie? Shit, are you okay?” He pulls me upright, one careful motion at a time, guiding me out into the light.
“Shit,” he mutters, scanning my face. He lifts my chin, expression shifting from concern to fury. “Let’s get you checked out,” he says, already moving.
“No!” My voice is hoarse, but I fight him off. “I need to see Axel,” I plead, the fear curling inside me like a storm.
“Who?” he asks. His brows furrow, and something in his tone isn’t from confusion. It’s clarification.
“Axel!” I scream his name like it’s a lifeline.
Noah blinks, then throws his hands up. “Okay. Okay.” He digs in his pocket and gestures to a car parked nearby. “Tell me where to go.”
“Cassie?”
I flinch and turn, my throat searing with pain .
“Hunter.” His name is a breath, a lifeline.
He eyes me with a softness I’ve never seen before, then his expression darkens, a scowl flicking to Noah. “What happened?” he growls.
“She was mugged,” Noah answers for me, steadying me with an arm.
“Who are you?” Hunter steps closer, sizing him up.
“Just a friend,” we both say at once.
Hunter doesn't look convinced. He holds out a hand. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”
“It’s all good. I can take it from here,” Noah replies, tugging me closer.
“Cassie?” Hunter’s voice is pure threat. He doesn’t want me with anyone but Axel’s people.
I gently peel away from Noah. “It’s okay, Noah,” I reassure, forcing calm into my voice. “I’m safe with Hunter.”
Noah hesitates before slipping a card into my hand. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will. Thank you,” I whisper, clutching it.
“Stay safe,” he murmurs before walking away.
“Come on. I’m taking you to Axel.” Hunter’s already holding the door open, scowl etched deep.
I don’t argue. I can’t. I slide into the seat, still shaking. Still bleeding. Still alive.
“Can we go?” I urge as a cold chill settles over me. My gaze drifts to the sidewalk, to the alley. A shudder spirals up my spine. My throat burns. My jaw throbs. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s wearing the memory of Aiden’s grip.
Hunter pulls away from the curb, his car setting a pace I’m not ready for.
The hum of the engine is the only sound between us, low and steady, but it echoes too loud in the space where words should be.
I stare out the window, watching the world blur by, disconnected from it all—like I’m not really in my own body, like I left something behind in that alley and forgot to go back for it .
For a long time, Hunter doesn’t speak. He just drives, his jaw set tight, eyes locked on the road.
His silence isn’t cold, though—it’s coiled, tense, like a thread pulled too tight and ready to snap.
I know him well enough to recognize the storm building beneath that stillness.
He’s not just angry. He’s furious. For me.
For Axel. For whatever line just got crossed too far.
But I can’t speak either. I don’t trust my voice not to shake. I clutch my hands in my lap to stop them from trembling. They don’t listen.
Each street light that passes casts flickering shadows across my lap, and with every pulse of light, I remember the glint of the gun, the suffocating grip on my throat, the sharp crack of pain. My body still flinches like it’s bracing for another hit.
“Who was that guy?” Hunter eventually asks, breaking the unbearable silence.
“I told you, he’s a friend.”
“Just a friend?” He raises a brow. “How do you know him?”
I snap my gaze to his. Whatever he’s accusing me of, he can swallow it.
He must read my mind because he retreats carefully, diving a hand into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. “Your lip.”
The faint trace of blood spreads across my tongue when I slide it across my bottom lip. I’d the tiniest cut, but it draws out a gentle whimper. I draw in a shaky breath, taking the fabric between my fingers and dabbing lightly.
There’s a concerned look on HUnter’s face, like he personally blames himself. But this had nothing to do with him. This was all Daniels’ and his stupid reach for… I don’t know what the fuck it was. But it wasn’t thought out. “You should see the other guy,” I mumble, trying to lighten the mood.
“You know when Axel finds out who attacked you, he’ll go after them.” Hunter stops at a traffic light, the red glow highlighting his tired features. I know there’s something more going on, but he won’t tell me. I’m nobody to him. Just his friend’s… shit. I don’t know what we are .
I let that thought settle deep as we turn onto Axel’s street. His house rises between the terraces like a beacon—dark, imposing, almost haunted. A place that’s seen too much, held too many secrets.
Hunter rounds the car and opens my door. I take his offered hand, my fingers trembling in his grip. The cool night air bites at my skin, but it’s not the cold making me shake.
I don’t think I’m ready to face Axel. Not like this.
Maybe it’s shame. Maybe it’s guilt. I can’t tell anymore.
I just know I don’t want him to look at me and think this is his fault.
I don’t want him to flinch like I’m a consequence of loving him.
“Ax?” Hunter’s voice is low as he enters first, and I follow. Each step is heavy, uncertain.
Hunter glances back, nodding for me to come in. I inhale on one step, exhale on the next, forcing myself forward.
And then I see him.
Axel shoots to his feet, dark eyes locking on me. He rounds his desk in a flash, gripping my face, gentle but intense, eyes burning as they study every bruise, every cut.
“Cassie. What the fuck happened?”
“She was mugged,” Hunter answers from behind me.
Axel doesn’t move. His hands stay on me, his expression carved from stone. “Fuck. Call Max. I want surveillance checked. Right fucking now.”
“No—” the word bursts out of me, raw and sharp.
“What?” they both demand, eyes locking on mine.
I force the words past the pain. “I wasn’t mugged,” I whisper, each syllable stabbing at my throbbing lip. “It was Daniels.”
The room falls into a heavy, suffocating silence—thick enough to drown in.
Axel’s eyes flick to Hunter, sharp and searching. And then, without a word, Hunter vanishes.