CHAPTER 25 #2
My heart rate spiked, adrenaline flooding my system as the reality of what I was seeing sank in. The peaceful contentment from moments ago evaporated, replaced by cold, creeping dread. Someone had been here. In Jaxon's home. His sanctuary. I wondered with mounting fear if they were still inside.
Jaxon carefully pushed the door open, the wood creaking ominously on its hinges. The sound made me flinch, my nerves already frayed. I followed close behind him, my hand resting lightly on his back, to let him know I was there, to ground both of us.
The air inside the cabin was still, yet it carried a palpable tension, as if the space itself held its breath. Everything felt wrong.
As we stepped inside, my stomach dropped.
The scene was in shambles. Furniture lay overturned, cushions ripped open with stuffing spilling out like entrails.
Broken glass littered the floor, crunching beneath our boots with each step.
Jaxon moved through the room with grim determination, his jaw clenched tight, each step revealing more destruction.
I felt a pang of horror, wondering who would’ve done this.
It was clear the cabin had been ransacked. This tranquil retreat I'd come to associate with peace and safety had been transformed into chaos. My heart hammered against my ribs as I took it all in, the violation of this space feeling almost physical.
Jaxon didn't waste any time. He headed straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time, his muscles coiled with urgency. I followed him, my footsteps echoing softly against the wooden steps, my hand trailing along the banister for balance.
When I reached the top, I found Jaxon standing in his bedroom doorway, frozen. He was staring down at a gun case that had been ripped from the closet and tossed onto the floor. The case was battered, its hinges bent, the latch twisted from its proper position, but still closed.
Jaxon flipped the case open, his shoulders stiff with worry. He examined the contents with meticulous care, checking each weapon with practiced precision. I stayed back near the doorway, letting him focus, though the tension in the room was suffocating.
The once-orderly space was now in ruins.
Drawers yanked out, their contents dumped across the floor.
Clothes strewn everywhere as if someone had torn through them in a frenzy.
His desk overturned, papers and personal items scattered like debris from a storm.
They hadn't just robbed him; they had destroyed everything.
Jaxon methodically removed each firearm from the damaged gun case, placing them one by one on what remained of the bed. My breath caught when I saw the mattress. It had been slashed open, foam spilling out like the aftermath of a vicious battle.
As he worked with quiet efficiency, I stood frozen, my mind racing through the implications of the wreckage around us. Someone had done this. To Jaxon's place. To him.
Shock crept over me slowly, tightening my chest until I could barely breathe.
My vision blurred with a mix of anger and fear.
My hands began to shake with the frightening possibilities.
Could it have been Jared? Or the drug dealers he had mentioned—the ones who'd come after Jaxon if he didn't pay?
Was Jared even still alive if this was their work?
"What's going on?"
My voice cracked, breaking through the heavy silence. The words came out smaller than I intended, revealing just how scared I really was.
Jaxon froze, his eyes snapping to mine. Something in my stance, the trembling I couldn't quite hide, the way I'd wrapped my arms around myself, caught his attention. In seconds, he was at my side, wrapping me in his arms.
His embrace was strong and grounding, his body a solid wall of comfort amid the destruction. The familiar scent of him cut through the musty air of the violated cabin. He rested his chin on top of my head, holding me until the trembling eased, urging me to just breathe.
"I don't know, baby," he said quietly, his hands rubbing slow, soothing circles along my back, anchoring me to the present moment.
After a pause, he drew back slightly, meeting my gaze. Concern filled his eyes. Concern for me, I realized, even now.
"I want to call the police from Connor's house, but I don't want to leave the guns or anything else important here," he said, his tone gentle despite the urgency. "Can you grab the big duffel bag from the closet for me?"
I nodded, grateful to have something concrete to do.
He hugged me again, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, a warm and reassuring touch before he moved to the far side of the room, sifting through the debris where his desk had fallen.
I made my way to the closet, my legs unsteady beneath me.
Each step revealed more of the catastrophic damage done to Jaxon's belongings.
Clothes were strewn across the floor in heaps, and the walls bore scars of violent destruction, dents and gouges that made me wonder what kind of rage had fueled this.
The gun case must have been mounted to the wall, because there was clear evidence of where it had been ripped off, splintered wood and jagged edges marking the spot.
I dug through the piles of clothing, the fabric soft beneath my fingers, until I finally located the large duffel bag buried beneath a heap of jackets and shirts.
The bag was heavier than I expected as I pulled it free.
When I handed it to him, Jaxon gave me a tight smile, a silent thank-you that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He carefully checked each firearm to ensure it was unloaded before placing it in the bag, his movements deliberate and focused.
But I could see the underlying tension in his body, the way his jaw flexed, the tightness around his eyes.
He was clearly trying to stay calm for me.
After securing everything, Jaxon attached his Colt .45 to his hip, the holster clicking into place with a sound that made me jump slightly, and then grabbed my hand. His palm was warm and calloused against mine as he led me downstairs to the living room.
Amidst the debris, he took a more deliberate look at the damage. I watched his eyes scan the room, his expression growing darker with each passing second.
The living room had suffered extensive destruction.
Anything that had once hung on the walls was now on the floor, smashed to pieces.
Framed photos, some of them must have been of Nikki, I realized with a pang, lay shattered.
Artwork was torn. Even a mirror had been smashed, glass scattered across the floor like deadly confetti.
But it was more than that. Several sections of the drywall had been punched through, leaving gaping holes that exposed the wooden framework beneath. The holes were deliberate. Methodical.
They were searching for something.
This wasn't random vandalism. It wasn't just rage or revenge. Someone had been looking for something specific, tearing through walls to find it.
Jaxon's grip on my hand tightened almost painfully, and I squeezed back, offering what little comfort I could. I could practically see his mind racing, piecing together what this meant.
"Jax?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
His gaze drifted across the wreckage, his eyes narrowing. When he finally looked at me, there was something cold and dangerous in his expression that I'd never seen before. I was sure he knew who did this.
"We need to go," he said, his voice low but firm, leaving no room for argument. "I need to call the police. We'll figure things out from there."
He led me toward the front door, tension radiating off him, his senses on high alert. The breeze through the shattered window felt threatening now instead of refreshing, carrying with it the violation of this space.
As we stepped outside into the summer warmth, Jaxon guided me toward the Jeep, his hand never leaving mine. He tossed the duffel bag into the back seat with more force than necessary before moving around to the driver's side.
On the drive back, my mind spun. I stared out the window at the passing trees, but I wasn't really seeing them. All I could see was the destruction, the holes in the walls, the shredded mattress. They were looking for his money, just like Jared said. In the back of my mind I knew that’s what happened.
Jaxon pulled out his cell phone with one hand, the other gripping the steering wheel. I listened as he called the police, explaining the situation in a calm, controlled voice that belied the tension in his shoulders.
He detailed the extent of the damage, emphasizing that it wasn't random vandalism but a targeted break-in.
The dispatcher assured him that a unit would be dispatched to gather evidence, but given how remote his cabin was, the officers would meet him at Connor's house first so he could guide them to the scene.
When we arrived at Connor's, Jaxon unloaded the duffel bag from the Jeep, carrying it upstairs to the guest room. I followed close behind, watching as he placed it on the bed and shut the door firmly behind us before heading back out.
The weapons were safely out of sight, but nothing about this felt safe.
Downstairs, I stood in the entryway with my arms crossed over my chest, a protective gesture I couldn't seem to help. My gaze drifted toward the back door, my mind racing. I knew we had to tell Connor.
When Jaxon reached the bottom of the stairs, our eyes met. I could feel the same internal war in his expression that churned inside me.
"We should tell Connor," I said quietly.
The words carried the weight of the promise I'd made. When Connor left, I'd assured him I'd call if anything happened. But telling him also meant he'd come home early. It meant disrupting everything he was working toward at the show.
Jaxon placed his hands on my shoulders, his touch gentle but firm. He looked down at me, searching my expression, reading the worry etched into my features.
"Are you sure?" he asked softly. "You know he'll come home early if we do."
"I promised him I'd call if anything went wrong," I said, my voice steady but quiet.
"I know, Anna, but that was if it was with you or the ranch," Jaxon said, his tone rough with frustration.
"This was my house, my family's issues." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair in that familiar, agitated way.
"I don't want my drama to ruin Connor's livelihood by having him come back for nothing. "
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. Jaxon's reasoning made sense—it did. But the idea of not telling Connor felt wrong, like I'd be betraying his trust, lying by omission.
I bit my bottom lip, my mind racing as I weighed the consequences of keeping silent.
Connor had always been protective, especially when it came to his family and friends.
Not telling him about something as serious as a break-in at Jaxon's cabin felt like breaking that promise, even if technically it wasn't my emergency or the ranch's.
But it involved Jaxon, and Jaxon mattered to both of us.
He noticed my hesitation, the way I'd caught my lip between my teeth. His hand moved to the side of my face, his touch gentle despite the gruffness in his voice. His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, coaxing it free.
The gesture was so tender it made my eyes sting.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts. Jaxon's touch grounded me, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this decision. The weight of the moment pressed down on us both, a crossroads that demanded careful thought.
"I just don't want to betray him," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I promised I'd let him know if anything happened. But I also don't want to make things worse for you."
Jaxon sighed, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek before his hand dropped to his side. He looked away, as if searching for the right words somewhere in the middle distance.
"I know. It's just... complicated." He paused, then went on, "If Connor finds out about this, he'll come back without a second thought. I don't want him throwing away everything he's built here because of me. It's not fair to him."
I nodded, my brow furrowing with indecision. The conflict between loyalty to Connor and understanding Jaxon's position tore at me. "So, what do we do?"
"We wait for the police to do their job," he said. "Let's see what they find, and then we'll decide what to do. If it looks like something serious, we tell Connor."
He offered me a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. We both knew this was already serious.
"Okay," I whispered, exhaling a long breath. The word came out reluctant, a quiet surrender to a plan that didn't feel entirely right but seemed like the only choice for now.
The sound of tires crunching on gravel broke the stillness. Jaxon moved to the door and peered through the window. I followed, leaning to see past him as a police cruiser pulled up outside.
He turned back to me and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. The touch was warm, lingering. "Stay here," he said softly. "I have to go with them. Lock the door after I leave, and keep Chester inside with you."
Then he began to unholster his pistol, and my eyes widened.
He handed it to me with steady hands, making sure I had a secure grip. The metal was cool and heavy in my palm, heavier than I expected. "Just in case," he murmured.
Just in case of what?
Before I could ask, he kissed me. Brief but steady, a gesture that said more than words ever could. Then he stepped back and moved toward the door.
I nodded, unable to speak, my heart sinking at the thought of being left alone. My fingers tightened around the pistol's grip until my knuckles turned white as I watched him walk out.
Through the window, I saw him use hand signals to communicate with the officers, directing them to follow him in his Jeep. He was professional. Efficient. Military.
As they drove away, his Jeep followed closely by the cruiser, I locked the door with trembling hands and leaned my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes.
The sigh that escaped me was heavy, a release of tension and helplessness I was all too familiar with. Just when things had started to feel like they were turning for the better, something had to come along and upend everything. This isn’t fair. None of this is fair.
I heard Chester's nails clicking against the hardwood floor as he padded down the hallway. He brushed against my leg, gazing up at me with those soulful eyes that seemed to sense every flicker of unease.
I knelt down, scratching behind his ears. The soft fur beneath my fingers, the warmth of his body, the gentle thump of his wagging tail, all of it grounded me in the smallest semblance of normalcy on a day that felt anything but.