Chapter Thirty
Estelle
The dry Los Angeles heat pressed against my skin like an oven as Mara guided me through the venue's back entrance. Sierra had already disappeared inside, the heavy service door propped open behind her as she waited in the cool shadow of the threshold.
The early crowd's chatter vibrated through the concrete walls, a distant thunder that did nothing to ease the tension coiling in my chest. The guys had taken the front entrance since Jax was technically running late, his usual apparently.
"They'll be fine," Sierra called from the doorway as she adjusted Toffee's thousand-dollar carrier on her back. "Jax is really good.”
I nodded, phone in one hand. The venue's back alley stretched wide and sun-baked before me. Security personnel in black gear flanked the entrance, their eyes scanning shadows with focus.
A security guard who was on the plane with us, Mara, kept her hand near her holstered weapon, her posture rigid as steel. She looked fierce and strong, but when she sometimes glanced at Sierra and me, her eyes softened .
“I just need a minute,” I said, breaking away toward a sliver of relative quiet near a loading dock. “To check on Leo.”
"Don't wander far," Mara's voice carried warning, her hand resting on her holster. "We’re moving fast."
I stepped only a few feet away from the cluster of security, pressing my phone to my ear. Each ring felt endless, stretching like hours.
Jovie answered on the second one, her voice bright and familiar in the oppressive heat:
“Estelle! Everything okay?”
“Yeah, is Leo?—”
Gunshots.
Gunshots cracked through the alley.
So loud and close it felt like the air itself shattered. The first shot hit metal somewhere behind me, a shriek of ricochet that made me freeze. The second tore through the silence, and suddenly everything was chaos—security shouting, bodies moving in violent blurs, fear flooding my skin.
Time stretched like taffy, each second becoming an eternity of terror. I could see Sierra in the doorway, her face white with horror as security forced her further in. She was safe inside.
But I wasn’t.
“GET DOWN!” Mara’s voice cut through the chaos, but I felt frozen in place. My body had turned to stone, frozen in the crosshairs of nightmare. Three female security officers converged on me at once, their training overriding everything else. Hands grabbed me—rough, desperate, saving.
Another shot rang out, closer this time, the sound so sharp it made my stomach twist. I felt the heat of the bullet as it whined past my ear, close enough to move my hair. Close enough to kill.
The security team hauled me bodily toward the entrance, my feet barely touching the ground. My phone flew from my hand, clattering across the concrete, the screen cracking into a spider web.
The service door flew open wider as we reached it. Sierra was being held down by Mara, her face a mask of terror as she watched them haul me across the threshold. The door slammed behind us with a sound like a coffin closing, the echo ringing in my ears like a death knell.
Inside, the world was suddenly too small, too loud. Sierra dropped beside me when Mara let her go, her hands shaking as she checked Toffee’s carrier, pulling the cat out and to her chest. My own chest was tight, my vision tunneling. I could still hear the shots, the ricochet, the chaos outside.
“Estelle. Hey. Look at me. You’re safe. You’re okay.” Her voice was gentle but firm, like she’d gotten through similar things before. Every sound—the crackle of radios, the slam of distant doors, the sharp voices of security personnel—made me flinch as if each was another gunshot.
"Breathe with me," Sierra said, her voice gaining strength even as her own fear showed in the fierce way she hugged Toffee to her chest. "In for four, hold for seven..." She matched her breaths to mine, grounding me, her own terror hidden behind eyes that had seen violence before.
Mara barked orders into her radio, her voice clipped and furious. “Shots fired, South entrance. VIPs secure.” The other security women pressed themselves against the door, weapons drawn, eyes focused on threats that might still be coming.
I tried to speak, but my voice cracked like broken glass. “Why—what was that?"
Sierra worked on gathering Toffee back into his carrier despite his mewls. “We’re okay. We’re okay.” But her own voice trembled, and I could see how nervous she was.
The minutes stretched, thick with fear. I kept seeing the flash of the gun. Someone had wanted me dead. Had tried to make me dead.
Then the door burst open.
Security flooded the hallway first, a wall of black tactical gear and drawn weapons. And behind them, Jax, Connor, and Adrian. They looked like something out of a fever dream with wild eyes and radiating violence. Death walked with them, it seemed to cling to their shoulders.
Jax's face was white as bone, his golden hair disheveled, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles had gone bloodless. The moment his eyes found me, something shattered in his expression—relief and rage and terror all crashing together.
He dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands shaking as they cupped my face. "Estelle. Princess, are you hurt? Are you—" His voice broke, raw and desperate, and I saw tears gathering in his eyes.
I shook my head, my own tears spilling over. "I'm okay. They got me inside. Mara and the others, they?—"
He pulled me into his arms, crushing me against his chest so hard I could barely breathe. I felt his whole body shudder, felt the way he pressed his face into my hair as if he needed to convince himself I was real. "You're safe," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I've got you. I've got you."
I never cried on anyone before. I was the shoulder when Giselle left us; I was always the one without tears. But now, I was crying my life out right into Jax’s designer shirt.
But beneath Jax’s tenderness, I could feel a rage so cold, so absolute, it made my blood icy. His hands were gentle on my skin, but the tension thrumming through his body was obvious, the promise of retribution coiled in every muscle.
A few feet away, Connor had Sierra in his arms, his massive frame dwarfing her as he held her. He didn't speak, just held her so tightly I wondered if she could breathe. His eyes burned with a cold, murderous fury that made the temperature in the hallway seem to drop ten degrees.
Adrian stood by the doorway, his energy channeled into something dangerous. His green eyes had gone flat, empty, like a shark's. He looked ready to tear someone apart with his bare hands, even as he held Toffee’s carrier carefully.
Security crowded us, their radios crackling, guns drawn, and voices tense. Mara was already giving her statement, her voice steady, but her eyes kept flicking to me, as if making sure I was still breathing.
"Who?" The word came out of Connor like a growl, his voice barely recognizable as human.
"Unknown," Mara replied, her voice steady despite the chaos. “Two shooters. Professional setup. They knew exactly where we'd be."
Something passed between the three men—a silent communication that made the air itself thicken with menace.
Jax rocked me, his breath hot against my ear. "Never again," he whispered, and the words carried the weight of an oath written in almost blood. "I swear to god, Estelle. Never again."
I clung to him, my whole body shaking. I’d never felt fear like this, not even when Damon’s men first appeared. This was different. This was life-threatening. I could have died, Sierra could have been hurt, and the people I loved could have been taken from me in an instant.
Sierra reached over, her hand finding mine with strength. “We’re okay,” she whispered, her voice steady. “We’re okay.”
We were ushered into the luxury suite high above the arena floor. Glass walls offered a view of the boxing ring below, where staff were already preparing for tonight's fights.
Jax hadn't let go of me since we'd been rushed inside.
I sat cradled in his lap on the plush leather couch, his arms wrapped around me like armor, his chin resting on top of my head.
Every few seconds, his hand would run down my back, as if he needed the constant reassurance that I was still here, still breathing, still alive.
Connor had claimed the space beside us, Sierra still curled against his chest. His dark eyes swept the room constantly, cataloging every corner, every potential threat, even as he whispered something too soft for me to hear against her skin.
She nodded slightly, then reached across the small space to squeeze my hand .
"You're okay," she murmured, her voice still steady. "We're safe now."
The door burst open with enough force to make me flinch, and Coach Miller stormed in, his face flushed red with exertion and barely contained panic.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded, his eyes darting between Jax and the guys like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
"We've got a title fight in three hours! "
Jax didn't even look at him. His gaze remained fixed on my face, his thumb gently wiping away tears I hadn't realized were still falling down my cheeks. When he spoke, his voice was flat and final. "I'm not fighting."
"What?" The coach’s face went from red to purple. "You can't just?—"
Jax finally turned to look at him, and whatever Coach Miller saw in those blue eyes made him take an involuntary step backward. The golden boy had been stripped away completely, leaving raw danger in its place.
“Someone just tried to kill her,” Connor said, his voice deadly quiet. His arms tightened around Sierra, who pressed her face into his shoulder. “Inside our perimeter. With our security.”
The coach's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. "Jesus Christ," he breathed, finally seeming to grasp the gravity of the situation. "But the championship—the network—the sponsors?—"
“Fuck the championship,” Jax snarled. “I'm not leaving her.”