Chapter 27
Conor
It’s been four days since I brought Jaxon home from the hospital. A full week since he was thrown into that cage and forced to fight for his life. Physically, he’s healing well.
The doctor says he shouldn’t have any lasting complications. Mentally, it’s a different story. The rest is harder to measure. The nightmares still come. Not every night, but often enough.
Sometimes he wakes up shaking. Sometimes he doesn’t wake up at all and I have to pull him out of whatever memory has him trapped. Those are the nights I hold him until he falls back asleep. The days are easier, at least a little.
Right now, Jaxon is curled up in the window seat of my office with a book in his hands. Sunlight spills across him through the glass, catching in his dark hair while he turns a page.
When I offered to bring things over from his apartment, he hardly asked for anything. Just his books and his knitting supplies. The sight of him still makes something twist in my chest.
His phone buzzes beside him, drawing my attention away from the paperwork spread across my desk.
Other than a brief call to his boss a few days ago, the thing hasn’t made a sound since he got here.
That conversation hadn’t gone well. His boss wasn’t exactly thrilled about losing one of his best workers.
As a contractor, he has no guarantee his job will still be waiting when he’s fully recovered.
The thought doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it did Jaxon. Because he isn’t going back to construction. Hell, he isn’t going back to breaking his body for anyone. I’ll make sure of that.
Jaxon turns another page before reaching for his phone. At first, his expression is blank. Then all the color drains from his face. The book slips from his fingers and lands forgotten in his lap. Every instinct in my body immediately goes on alert.
“Jaxon?” His eyes stay fixed on the screen. Whatever he’s reading, it’s bad.
I don’t wait for an answer. I’m out of my chair and crossing the room before he can say a word. When I reach him, he looks up at me. Those big brown eyes are wide with something dangerously close to fear. My stomach drops.
“Jaxon?”
His throat works as if he’s trying to speak, but no sound comes out.
Then I notice the slight tremor in his hand.
Without me asking, he holds the phone out to me.
The gesture hits harder than it should. Because a week ago, he would’ve suffered through whatever this was alone.
Now he’s handing me the problem without hesitation.
Trusting me to help carry it. I take the phone from his shaking fingers and glance down at the screen.
Already knowing I’m not going to like whatever I’m about to read.
I scan the messages once. Then a second time. Each one is making my jaw lock tighter.
Henry: This isn’t over. You still have a debt to pay.
Henry: You’ve had a week to recover. I’ll send you a time and location soon.
Henry: Your new friends can’t save you. It would be a shame for them to get hurt.
By the time I reach the last message, something cold settles in my chest. Rage. The kind that turns everything sharp and focused. The kind Mom is always warning me about. I slowly lower the phone and look at Jaxon.
He’s gone pale. Paler than he was after waking up from his nightmares. Paler than he was when Ronan told him about the Russians. His hands are clenched so tightly in his lap that his knuckles have turned white. I immediately drop to one knee beside the window seat so we’re eye level.
“Hey.” His eyes snap to mine. “Look at me.”
It takes him a second, but eventually his attention settles fully on me.
“You are not going anywhere with Henry.” I keep my voice calm. Steady. Like the words are already fact. “And nobody is touching a single person in this family.”
His throat works.
“Conor—”
“No.” I take one of his hands and force his fingers to unclench before threading mine through them.
“Listen to me, A Chroí.” I wait until I’m certain I have his attention. “This is not your problem to carry by yourself anymore.”
“You’re in danger because of me, Conor.” His eyes go wide as the thought takes hold.
“Fuck.” He jerks forward in the window seat, his hand tightening painfully around mine. “Your mom.” The color drains even further from his face.
“What if they go after her?” His breathing starts to quicken. Panic is evident in each word, each shaky breath.
“Jaxon—”
“Ollie.” The word comes out like he’s been punched. Pure horror flashes across his face.
“Jesus Christ.” His chest rises sharply. “What if he knows about Ollie?”
The panic is there in full force now. “What if he knows where they live? What if—” His voice breaks off as his breathing turns into short, uneven pants.
“Jaxon.” He doesn’t hear me. He’s already spiraling through every terrible possibility his mind can create.
“This is my fault,” he whispers. “I brought this to all of you.”
His gaze drops to our joined hands. For a moment, his thumb brushes across my knuckles. The touch is so small it almost hurts. Then he squeezes my hand gently before carefully untangling our fingers. The loss of contact feels immediate.
“I can’t, Conor.” He shifts farther back into the window seat, putting space between us. My chest tightens.
“Jaxon—”
“I can’t stay here.” His voice cracks. “I can’t bring any of this down on you or your family.” He shakes his head.
“Your mom has been nothing but kind to me. Ronan and Colton helped me when they didn’t have to. Ollie…” His voice catches completely. “I won’t be the reason something happens to him.”
The panic is gone now. Replaced by something far more dangerous. Resolve.
The kind that tells me he’s already made a decision. The kind that tells me he’s preparing to leave. And suddenly I understand something that should have been obvious from the beginning. Jaxon isn’t afraid for himself. He’s terrified of becoming a threat to the people he cares about.
“Nothing is going to happen to any of us,” I keep my voice calm, even though my pulse is pounding. “And nothing is going to happen to you either, for that matter.”
I reach for his hands again. Wanting to ground him. Wanting to make him look at me. But Jaxon pulls away before I can touch him. The movement is small. Gentle, even. It still hits me like a punch to the chest, and I freeze.
Something twists deep inside me. Something unfamiliar. Uncomfortable. I know anger. I know fear. I know protectiveness so intense it borders on violence. But this? This is different. Because for the first time since I brought him home, Jaxon is actively putting distance between us.
And I have no idea what to do with that or with whatever this feeling is inside of me. This stubborn, self-sacrificing man decided that protecting me was more important than staying with me. Somehow that hurts even more.
I need him to understand. Need him to see that there is no version of this where he walks away to protect me, or my family. Especially not if it means putting himself in danger instead.
“Jaxon, I told you I would help you,” I keep my voice steady. Careful. “That means keeping you safe.”
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to reach for him again.
To pull him into my arms. To hold him there until he understands that he’s not leaving.
That he’s not facing any of this alone. But I don’t move, because he already pulled away once, and the last thing he needs right now is to feel trapped.
So I stay exactly where I am. Even though every fiber of my being aches to touch him. To reassure myself that he’s still here. Mom was right. Being gentle with Jaxon isn’t natural for me. It’s a choice. One I have to keep making over and over again.
My instincts aren’t soft. They’re possessive. Protective. Relentless. I want to claim him. Keep him. Stand between him and every ugly thing this world has ever thrown at him.
But for the first time in my life, wanting something isn’t enough. Because this isn’t about what I need. It’s about what he needs. And if I want a future with him, I have to learn the difference.
He gives a small shake of his head. “These guys aren’t people to fuck around with, Conor.” There’s more life in his voice now. Fear has finally given way to frustration.
“Even if Henry is acting on his own, he still has connections. He still has people willing to do what he says.” His eyes lock onto mine. “You don’t understand what these people are capable of.”
“Let them come.” The growl leaves me before I can stop it. Jaxon’s eyes widen, but I don’t care. Because all I can think about is that text message. About the fear on his face. About the months Henry spent exploiting him, using him. Breaking him down piece by piece.
Something dark and vicious stirs inside me. The same thing that has always surfaced whenever someone threatens the people I care about.
“Conor—”
“No.” I force myself to take a breath before continuing. My voice is lower now. Steadier. “Henry already made this my problem the second he hurt you.”
I want to tell him everything. About my family. About what we really do. About why Henry Deluga and a handful of hired thugs aren’t keeping me up at night.
But the look on Jaxon’s face stops me. He’s already overwhelmed. Already trying to figure out how to protect everyone from a threat he believes is his responsibility. Dropping the truth about my family on him right now wouldn’t help. It would only give him one more thing to worry about.
No.
Jaxon isn’t ready for that conversation yet. What he is ready for is seeing that he isn’t alone. That every person in this family would stand beside him if it came down to it. I pull my phone from my pocket and open the family chat. My thumbs move quickly.
Me: Need family meeting ASAP. My house.
I don’t wait for a response. I already know they’re coming.
The phone disappears back into my pocket as I lift my head.
Jaxon is staring at me. The panic from earlier has faded.
Replaced by more stubborn determination.
The kind that tells me he’s already planning how to leave and deal with Henry himself.
The kind that tells me this conversation is far from over.
I sigh internally. Because keeping Jaxon safe might be the easiest part. Convincing him that he deserves to be protected? That’s going to be the real fight.