Chapter 26 Axel
Axel
Iwake before sunrise, my body still unfamiliar with the contours of Sadie's bed. She's curled against me, her breathing deep and even, one hand tucked under her cheek.
Light filters through the blinds, painting stripes across her bare shoulders. I trace them with my eyes, careful not to touch, not to wake her. She needs the rest. Today will test us both in ways I can't fully prepare for.
My mind keeps circling back to the folder sitting on her coffee table.
Evidence of Elliot's true nature, of the danger he poses.
I've dealt with men like him before, men who hide behind money and charm while manipulating everyone around them.
But this is different. This isn't business. This is Sadie. This is Poppy.
The baby monitor on the nightstand glows green, the soft sound of Poppy's breathing a steady reminder of what's at stake.
I ease myself from the bed, careful not to disturb Sadie as I pull on my boxers.
My shirt is somewhere in the living room, evidence of our desperate need for each other last night.
I pause at the doorway, looking back at Sadie's sleeping form. The fierce protectiveness that surges through me is almost frightening in its intensity. I would burn down the world to keep them safe. Both of them.
The kitchen is small but efficient, like everything in Sadie's life.
I find the coffee without searching, knowing from watching her morning routine at the café exactly how she likes it.
Strong, with just a splash of cream. The ritual of measuring grounds, filling the water reservoir, hearing the first gurgle of the machine feels strangely intimate, like I'm stepping into a role I haven't earned yet.
While the coffee brews, I check the baby monitor I've brought with me to the kitchen. Poppy's still sleeping, a small lump under her blanket.
The coffee finishes brewing just as I hear a soft sound from Poppy's room through the monitor. Not crying, just the beginning stirrings of wakefulness. I pour a cup for Sadie, adding the exact amount of cream she uses at the café, and head toward Poppy's room.
She's sitting up in her crib when I enter, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists. Her hair sticks up in all directions, a riot of dark curls just like her mother's.
"Good morning, sunshine," I whisper, setting the coffee mug on her dresser before approaching the crib.
She blinks at me, then breaks into a gummy.
"That's right," I say, lifting her carefully. "It's me. Let's let Mama sleep a little longer, okay?"
She babbles against my shoulder, her tiny hand patting my beard in that way that's become our ritual. I check her diaper, dry, thankfully, and carry her to the living room, grabbing a toy from her basket on the way.
This is dangerous territory. Playing house, acting like I belong here when nothing is certain. We're flying to Oregon in a few hours to face a man who wants to destroy Sadie, who might try to take Poppy. I have no legal claim to either of them. No right to feel this possessive, this invested.
But I do.
I settle on the couch with Poppy on my lap, letting her play with the soft blocks she seems to favor. My mind runs through the plan for today, the private jet waiting at the airfield, the security team that will meet us in Portland, the hotel suite I've booked under a false name.
"Da," Poppy says, holding up a block for my inspection.
"That's a good one," I tell her seriously. "Excellent choice."
She beams at me, and suddenly something shifts in me.
I've never wanted children. Never even considered it.
My life has been about the brewery, about proving I'm more than just the family clown.
But this little girl with her mother's eyes and determined chin has worked her way under my skin in a matter of weeks.
I hear movement from the bedroom and look up to see Sadie standing in the doorway. Her hair is tousled from sleep, her body wrapped in a robe that's tied loosely at her waist. For a moment, her eyes are soft as she takes in the sight of Poppy on my lap.
Then awareness returns, of where we are, of what we're facing, and tension creeps back into her expression. She glances at the coffee mug I've left on the side table for her, at the baby monitor placed carefully within reach, at the way Poppy leans comfortably against my chest.
I see the conflict in her eyes, gratitude warring with fear, trust battling against hard-won independence. I don't push, don't speak. Just wait, holding Poppy secure against me, giving Sadie space to process the intimacy of what she's seeing.
"Morning," she finally says, her voice rough with sleep. "You're up early."
"Didn't want to wake you," I reply, keeping my tone casual even as my heart hammers in my chest. "Coffee's fresh."
She nods, reaching for the mug I prepared. After taking a sip, surprise flickers across her face. "You remembered how I like it."
"I pay attention," I say, watching as she takes another sip, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. The normalcy of this moment, morning coffee, Poppy babbling on my lap, Sadie in her robe, feels like a glimpse into a future I desperately want.
But we don't have time for domestic fantasies. Not with what's waiting for us in Oregon.
"We need to talk about today," I say, adjusting Poppy on my knee as she reaches for another block. "The jet will be ready at nine. We'll be wheels up by nine thirty, landing in Portland before noon."
Sadie's posture stiffens, the brief moment of morning peace evaporating. She sits in the armchair across from me, clutching her coffee mug like a shield.
"Tell me exactly what happens when we land," she says, her voice steady despite the fear I can see building behind her eyes.
"A security team meets us at the airfield, two men, both ex-military. They'll drive us directly to the hotel, which is booked under my cousin's name. Your lawyer will meet us there, not at his office." I keep my voice calm, matter-of-fact. "No paper trail, no way for Elliot to track our movements."
"And tomorrow? The hearing?"
"We go in through the service entrance. The security team stays with us the entire time." I lean forward, making sure she hears every word.
"Sadie, this isn't going to be a drawn-out legal battle. What I have is enough to bury him. We present the evidence to the judge, file criminal charges, and end this. One day, not months of courtroom drama. Nobody gets close to you without going through me first.”
Her fingers tighten around the mug. "You make it sound so simple."
"The plan is simple. The execution might not be." I won't lie to her, not even by omission. "But I've dealt with men like Elliot before. They're bullies who fold when confronted with real opposition."
"You don't know him," she whispers, a tremor in her voice. "When he feels cornered, he becomes… unpredictable."
"That's why we have security. That's why we move fast." I shift Poppy to my other knee, keeping my voice light for her benefit even as I hold Sadie's gaze.
"He won't see this coming. Won't have time to counter."
I can see her mind racing, looking for holes in the plan, for ways it could all go wrong. Her instinct to control every variable, to prepare for every contingency, is working overtime.
"What if he has people waiting? What if he knows we're coming?"
"He doesn't," I say with certainty. "The PI confirmed it. Elliot thinks you're flying commercial this afternoon. He's planning to intercept you at Portland International."
Her eyes widen. "How do you know that?"
"Because I know how men like him think. And because I have resources he doesn't." I reach across the coffee table, offering my hand palm up.
"Sadie, I need you to understand something. You call the shots. I’m not here to take choices away from you. I’m here to make sure you have every weapon you need and that no one fucks with you ever again."
She stares at my outstretched hand, conflict written across her face.
"If you want to call this off, we call it off. If you want to change the plan, we change it. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, we pivot." I keep my voice steady, my hand open.
"I'm not Elliot. I don't make choices for you."
The tension in her shoulders eases slightly. She doesn't take my hand, but she nods, acknowledging the truth in my words.
"I'm scared," she admits, the confession barely audible.
"I know." I don't minimize it, don't try to tell her she shouldn't be. "I'd be worried if you weren't. But being scared doesn't mean you're not brave."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "Now you sound like Rowan."
"Smart woman, your sister." I bounce Poppy gently as she starts to fuss, earning a giggle that lightens the moment.
"Look, the flight's booked. The security's in place. Your lawyer's been briefed. But none of it happens unless you say go."
She takes a deep breath, setting her coffee mug down with deliberate care. Her eyes meet mine, clear and determined despite the fear still lurking in their depths.
"Yes," she says, the word sharp and resolute.
Relief washes through me, though I try not to show it. This isn't about what I want, it's about keeping them safe, both of them.
"Okay, then." I stand, shifting Poppy to my hip. "We leave in two hours. Pack light. Anything you need, we can buy there."
Sadie nods, some of her usual efficiency returning as she mentally shifts into planning mode. "I'll get Poppy ready."
She reaches for her daughter, and I hand the baby over, our fingers brushing during the exchange.
The simple contact sends warmth up my arm, a reminder of last night's intimacy.
For a moment, we're frozen there, connected by Poppy between us, by the memory of skin against skin, by the weight of what we're about to face together.
"Thank you," she says quietly, breaking the spell. "For all of this."
"Don't thank me yet," I reply, trying for a lightness I don't feel. "Thank me when we're back here, safe, with all this behind us."
She nods, clutching Poppy closer to her chest. "I should get dressed. Call Rowan."
"I'll make breakfast," I offer. "You'll need your strength today."
She hesitates, then nods again before disappearing into her bedroom.
I make a final sweep of Sadie's apartment while she finishes dressing Poppy. Every window locked, every blind closed. I check the bathroom for her toiletry bag, grab the folder with Elliot's evidence, and double-check the diaper bag for Poppy's essentials.
"Formula?" I call out.
"Three bottles in the side pocket," Sadie answers from the bedroom. "And extra powder in the zip compartment."
My phone buzzes. It’s Reeves confirming our security detail is already at the airfield. I text back a quick acknowledgment, then pull up the traffic app to check our route. Clear all the way, but I map an alternate path just in case.
Sadie emerges from the bedroom with Poppy on her hip, both dressed for travel. Simple, practical clothes. No jewelry that might set off metal detectors. Hair pulled back. Ready to move.
"Car seat?" I ask, already scanning the living room.
"By the door." She nods toward the travel system leaning against the wall. "Do you know how to install it?"
"I practiced." The admission earns me a surprised look. "Last night, after you fell asleep. YouTube tutorials."
Something softens in her expression—not quite a smile but close.
I load the car while Sadie does one final check of the apartment, her movements precise and efficient. Triple-checking the locks. Testing the windows. Familiar rituals that I now understand aren't paranoia but survival.
The drive to the private airfield takes twenty-eight minutes. I keep one hand on the wheel, the other on my phone, tracking our route. Sadie sits rigid beside me, eyes constantly checking the mirrors. In the back, Poppy babbles happily, oblivious to the tension.
No one follows us. The roads are clear, the morning bright and cold. When we pull through the security gate at the airfield, I feel Sadie exhale slightly.
"We're okay," I tell her, reaching for her hand. "Almost there."
The Gulfstream G650 waits on the tarmac, gleaming white against the gray concrete. Two men in dark suits stand at attention near the stairs—our security detail. Professional. Discreet. Heavily armed beneath those tailored jackets.
"That's… yours?" Sadie asks, eyes wide as she takes in the private jet.
"Family's," I correct, pulling up to the hangar. "One of the few perks of being a Slade I actually use."
Cold mountain air hits us as we exit the car. Poppy whimpers at the temperature change, burying her face against Sadie's neck. I step closer, instinctively shielding them both from the wind as the security team approaches.
"Mr. Slade," the taller one says with a nod. "Everything's ready. Pilot's completed pre-flight checks. We're clear for takeoff."
"Thanks, Jensen." I make quick introductions, watching Sadie's face carefully as she sizes up the men who will be responsible for our safety. Her posture remains tight, guarded, but she nods politely.
Loading proceeds with military precision. The security team transfers our bags while I help Sadie install Poppy's car seat in the cabin. The plane's engines hum to life, a low vibration beneath our feet as fuel pumps and electronics power up.
"Last chance to back out," I tell her quietly once Poppy’s seat is secured. "Say the word and we stay here."
She straightens, meeting my eyes directly. "No. We finish this."
Inside the cabin, Sadie settles Poppy into her seat, meticulously checking the straps while I confer with the pilot about our flight path and expected weather.
When I return to the main cabin, Sadie is staring out the window, her profile etched with tension. Poppy has already dozed off, tiny fingers curled around the stuffed rabbit Sadie brought from home.
"We're ready when you are," I tell her, taking the seat beside her.
She turns to me, determination hardening her features. "Let's go."
I signal to the flight attendant, who secures the cabin door with a heavy metallic thunk. The sound is final, decisive. There's no turning back now.
As the engines power up to full thrust, I look at Sadie beside me, at Poppy sleeping peacefully across from us. Fierce, protective love envelops me. That feeling still surprises me with its intensity. These two have become my world in a matter of weeks.
The jet begins to taxi, picking up speed as we hurtle down the runway. Sadie's hand finds mine, fingers intertwining as the wheels leave the ground. We're airborne, committed to whatever comes next.
This ends in Oregon, I think, as the ground falls away beneath us. One way or another, this ends now.