Chapter 30
Jaxon
To say I’m stunned would be an understatement. When I first met Colton and Ronan, they looked like the picture of a happy family. They seem comfortable and secure. Sure, Ronan is intimidating as hell. Stoic, even.
The kind of man who looks like he could make someone disappear and then go home and have dinner afterward.
But the way he softens around Colton and Ollie is impossible to miss.
It changes him completely. The sharp edges dull.
His expression relaxes. And every now and then, when he thinks no one is looking, he’ll glance at one of them with so much affection it almost hurts to witness.
I thought they’d always been like this. Thought maybe some people were just lucky enough to find happiness and hold onto it. Now I know that happiness was fought for.
The same is true for Xavier and Declan. Every story I’ve heard tonight has been filled with pain. Yet somehow none of them are defined by it. They survived it. And more importantly, they didn’t survive it alone.
My chest aches as I look around the room, at the easy touches, the quiet smiles. The way they lean toward one another without even thinking about it. Like they know, without question, that someone will be there to catch them if they fall.
I don’t know what that feels like. Not really. But for the first time in my life, I think I understand why people fight so hard to keep it.
“We aren’t the only ones, Jaxon.” Xavier’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. When I look at him, there’s something in his expression I don’t quite expect. Pride. Not for himself, but for the people sitting around this room. “They do the same thing for complete strangers.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
Xavier smiles softly. “For people who can’t help themselves.” His gaze shifts around the room. Taking in the Murphys one by one. “For people trapped in dangerous situations.”
“People who’ve fallen through the cracks,” Colton adds quietly.
“People everyone else forgot,” Xavier agrees.
I stare at them, trying to decide if they’re serious. Because what they’re describing sounds impossible. People don’t risk their lives for strangers. Not like that. Not without wanting something in return. Yet nobody in the room looks like Xavier has said anything unusual.
“Like vigilantes?” The question slips out before I can stop it. At this point, I’m pretty sure it’s the least ridiculous conclusion I’ve come to all night. Because what else am I supposed to think?
I’ve spent the last hour listening to stories about serial killers, cults, kidnappings, and rescues. Meanwhile, everyone else in the room is acting like they’re discussing the weather.
The room falls silent. Then Liam snorts. “Well, we’re definitely not superheroes.”
I glance around the room. “That wasn’t actually one of the options I was considering.” The laughter that follows is immediate.
“Sweetheart.” Alessia’s voice immediately draws my attention. The room seems to soften whenever she speaks. “My sons, my nephew, my husband, and my brother-in-law all have a very particular set of skills.”
“They’ve spent years honing those skills,” she continues. “And they have the mental fortitude to do things most people simply can’t.” Her gaze moves around the room. Lingering on each man in turn with pride. Pure, unmistakable pride.
“Some people might call that vigilantism.” Her shoulders lift in a small shrug. “Maybe they’re right. But when I look at them, I don’t see vigilantes.”
Her eyes settle on Kieran first. She pats the hand she is holding.
“I see men willing to put themselves in danger so someone else doesn’t have to.
” The conviction in her voice steals the breath from my lungs.
“I see men who refuse to look away when someone needs help.” Her gaze finally returns to me.
Softening immediately. “I see men who save people.”
The words settle heavily in my chest. Because nobody in my life has ever talked about people like that. With that kind of certainty. That kind of love. And for the first time, I begin to understand why every person in this room would walk through fire for her.
“That’s enough story time for tonight.” The deep voice cuts through the room, immediately drawing my attention.
Duncan. It’s the first thing I’ve heard him say all evening.
Which somehow makes the words carry more weight.
Unlike the others, Duncan hasn’t spent the evening talking.
He’s simply sat there listening, watching.
Observing everything around him with an intensity that borders on unsettling.
The man is every bit as intimidating as the rest of the Murphy men. Maybe more. The others at least smile occasionally. Duncan looks like he was carved from stone and forgotten there.
“Jaxon.” His dark eyes settle on me. Not unkindly.
The way a man might look at something he’s already made up his mind about.
“We will do everything necessary to protect you.” The statement is simple.
Matter-of-fact. Like he’s discussing dinner plans.
Then he glances around the room. At his family. “And each other.”
No one disagrees with his statement. Like protecting one another is so deeply ingrained that it doesn’t need discussion. It’s just understood.
My chest tightens. Because I’ve spent what feels like hours trying to convince these people that I’m not worth the risk. And not a single one of them seems interested in listening. How can what they are telling me be real?
“I’ve had the most experience dealing with people like this.” Duncan’s voice remains calm. Steady. The kind of calm that somehow makes him more intimidating. “So I’ll be working with Conor to take care of the matter.”
The room barely reacts. Most of them simply nod. As though that’s a perfectly normal thing to say. Unfortunately, I’m sitting in a room full of lunatics.
“Take care of the matter?” I ask. Several pairs of eyes turn toward me. Duncan’s expression doesn’t change. Not even a little.
“Yes.” That is somehow less helpful than I expected.
“What exactly does that mean?” The question hangs in the air. For a moment, nobody answers. Then Duncan slowly turns his head toward me.
“It means we will do what is necessary to ensure your safety.” The matter-of-fact way he says it sends a chill down my spine. Duncan studies me for a second. Then cocks his head slightly. Like he’s confused about why we’re still discussing this. Like I’ve asked, why do people wear coats in winter?
“You seem concerned.”
I stare at him. “You think?” Across the room, Finn snorts. Liam immediately starts laughing. Even Conor’s shoulders shake slightly beside me.
Duncan remains completely serious. “I fail to see the issue.”
“So what’s the plan?” Conor asks.
Duncan doesn’t hesitate. “We find Henry and determine whether Manny is involved or if someone else is pulling the strings.” He says it like he’s reading items off a grocery list. “If Henry is acting on his own, we remove him from the equation.”
It takes me a full second to process what he actually said. Then another. My gaze slowly moves around the room.
“Did he just…”
“Yes,” Liam says.
“Yep,” Finn agrees.
“Absolutely,” Colton adds.
I stare at them. None of them looks concerned. Not even a little.
“Henry has threatened multiple people,” Duncan says. “Allowing that threat to continue would be irresponsible.”
“You make it sound like you’re taking out the trash,” I mutter.
“In fairness,” Liam says, “that’s usually how Duncan sounds.”
“He’s not wrong,” Finn adds.
I look over at Conor. He doesn’t appear shocked either. Which is somehow more alarming than Duncan’s statement. The realization settles heavily in my chest.
These people aren’t afraid of Henry. They’re evaluating him, assessing the risk, determining the best way to deal with the problem. And judging by the calm expressions around the room, they seem pretty confident they’re going to win.
The strange thing is that instead of frightening me, the thought brings a flicker of relief. Because for the first time since Henry’s message arrived, I don’t feel alone with it.
“Henry is back in Philly.” Ronan’s announcement cuts through the conversation. Every head in the room turns toward him. “The dumbass sent Jaxon a screenshot of an address.” A grin tugs at one corner of his mouth. “Apparently, he isn’t smart enough to turn off the location data on his photos.”
For the first time all night, Duncan looks impressed.
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
My heart starts beating faster. Because until now, Henry had been an idea. A threat hanging over my head. Now he has a location. Beside me, Conor goes completely still. The change is immediate.
“Where is he?” The growl comes from so close that I jump. His voice is deeper than usual. Colder. Gone is the patient man who reminds me to take my medication and makes sure I have enough butter for my bread.
The hand holding mine tightens. Not enough to hurt. Enough to remind me he’s there. Enough to remind me that Henry has made a mistake.
Ronan glances at Conor. “South Philly. He’s in a townhouse that is in his grandmother’s maiden name. It’s the reason we didn’t find him in our initial search.”
Conor’s jaw flexes beside me. Duncan leans back in his chair. I have the distinct feeling that I should be more worried about Henry than I am about myself.
“I also found his secret social media account. He’s been in Atlantic City since the fight,” Ronan adds.
“We take him tomorrow,” Duncan states.
My head snaps up. “Take him?”
Even after everything I’ve learned tonight, the words still catch me off guard. Maybe they shouldn’t. Not after the stories of what this family does to the people who hurt them. Still, hearing Duncan say it so casually sends a shiver through me.
Take him.
As if Henry is nothing more than a package waiting to be collected. Yet everyone in this room acts as though tomorrow they’ll simply go have a conversation with him and be home in time for dinner. I honestly don’t know if that’s comforting or terrifying.
“Take him,” Duncan repeats. As if that somehow explains everything.
“That’s not actually an explanation,” I point out.
A smile twitches at the corner of Finn’s mouth. Liam outright laughs. “Good luck getting a more detailed answer than that,” he says. “Uncle Duncan believes in efficiency.”
“Unnecessary words waste time,” Duncan replies.
“See?” Liam gestures toward him. “Exactly what I mean.”
No one seems bothered by any of this. Especially not Conor. The hand holding mine hasn’t loosened once. If anything, his grip has become more certain as the conversation has progressed. Like every piece of information about Henry only reinforces something he’s already decided.
“You all make this sound easy,” I say quietly. I’ve spent eight months living under Henry’s shadow. Watching what happened to people who crossed him. Hearing the stories, feeling the fear. To me, Henry is a nightmare that refuses to end.
To them… He’s a problem. And judging by the confidence in the room, one they fully intend to solve.
“It is,” Alessia says with a soft smile. The confidence in her voice is absolute. “Trust us, Jaxon. We know what we’re doing.”
I have no idea if that reassures me or terrifies me. Before I can decide, Ollie lets out an enormous yawn. The kind that takes over his entire face. His eyes squint shut. His mouth opens impossibly wide. And then he sways slightly where he’s sitting. The room immediately shifts gears.
“Well, that’s our cue.” Colton pushes to his feet. “Time to get little man home before he gets fussy.”
“Yeah,” Liam mutters from the couch. “Because he’s such a ray of sunshine otherwise.”
“Says the man who’s been losing an ongoing feud with an eighteen-month-old.” Declan smirks.
Liam points at him. “I’m not losing.”
“Really?” Xavier asks. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re getting your ass handed to you.” Several people laugh.
Liam looks deeply offended. “For the record, he started it.”
“He’s a baby,” Finn says.
“A very hostile baby.”
“He likes the rest of us,” Declan says smugly.
“Ack ass.”
Every head turns toward Ollie. The toddler is staring directly at Liam. Looking entirely too pleased with himself. The room erupts into laughter. Liam drops his head into his hands.
“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
Ollie grins. Then yawns again. Apparently satisfied that he’s won another round. The little menace.
It doesn’t take long for everyone to leave. One by one, the house empties. Goodbyes are exchanged.
Ollie waves at everyone from Ronan’s arms while Colton repeatedly reminds him to stop trying to steal people’s keys. Eventually, the front door closes behind the last of them. And just like that, it’s over.
The silence that follows feels strange. Almost unnatural.
Only minutes ago, the house had been overflowing with voices, laughter, and conversations happening over top of one another.
Now there’s nothing. Just the distant hum of the refrigerator.
The occasional creak of the house settling. The quiet seems louder somehow.
I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. Tonight feels like it’s lasted a week. I learned more about the Murphy family in a few hours than I thought possible. About the things they’ve survived. The things they’ve done. The lengths they’re willing to go for the people they love.
It’s too much to process. Too much to feel. Conor must see it on my face. He usually does.
“Come on, A Chroí.”
The nickname still does strange things to my chest. I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. For once, I don’t argue. Don’t insist I’m fine. Don’t pretend I have more energy than I do.
He leads me upstairs in comfortable silence. The routine we’ve fallen into over the last few days unfolds naturally. The small rituals that somehow make this place feel more like home than anywhere I’ve ever lived. By the time we’re finished, my eyes are burning with fatigue.
Conor pulls back the comforter and waits until I’m settled before climbing in beside me. The mattress dips beneath his weight. Then his arm slides around my waist. Like there was never any question where I would sleep. Or who I would sleep beside.
He pulls me against him. I go willingly, resting my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear.
My eyes drift closed. And for the first time since Henry’s message arrived, I let myself stop carrying the weight of it. Just for a little while. Just long enough to fall asleep in Conor’s arms.