Chapter Eight #2
My mother’s eyes widen, a flicker of panic breaking through her polished mask. She knows exactly what that declaration means. She knows exactly what I’m doing. She knows exactly what I’m reclaiming.
Senator Alistair Crane’s face shifts. The smooth, charming facade melts into controlled fury.
Fury that his little pet is no longer his to command.
Fury that my body is no longer something he can touch, bruise, manipulate.
Fury that I am standing here with a man who would burn the world down before letting him near me again.
His grip tightens around his glass of whiskey. Too tight. The crystal splinters with a sharp crack, shards slicing into his palm. A hiss escapes him as blood wells up and drips onto the marble floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound pulls me into a trance. The rhythmic fall of red against white. The spreading stain. The way the blood trails down his wrist. I watch it with a stillness that frightens even me.
I want more.
I want to see it pour from him the way he poured fear into me. I want to watch him bleed for every night he stole from me. I want to tear him apart in ways that mirror the ways he tore my mind apart. I want him to feel even a fraction of the agony he left me with.
Kade feels the shift in me. His hand tightens around my waist, grounding me, pulling me back from the edge of something dark and consuming. But his eyes never leave Crane.
They track every movement, every twitch, every breath.
Crane steps forward again, blood dripping from his hand, fury twisting his features. He still believes he has some hold over me. He still believes I am something he can reach for. He still believes he can touch me.
He reaches out.
Kade moves before I can even inhale.
He steps between us, blocking Crane’s hand with a presence so cold and controlled it makes the air around us vibrate. His voice is low, quiet, deadly.
“Don’t touch her.”
Crane freezes. His jaw clenches. His eyes narrow. He looks at Kade with the arrogance of a man who has never been told no.
My mother opens her mouth, ready to smooth things over, ready to pretend nothing is wrong, ready to protect the man who hurt me instead of the daughter she abandoned.
“Would you look at the time, my son should be arriving any minute.” My mother’s sickeningly sweet voice slices through the tension with surgical precision. She is desperate to redirect, to pretend nothing is happening, to pretend she isn’t standing beside the man who destroyed me.
My gaze drifts from the small pool of blood at Senator Crane’s feet and locks onto her. She doesn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. She sees someone she cannot control. Someone she cannot silence. Fear flickers across her features before she forces her mask back into place.
“Jaxon is coming tonight?” My voice cracks. I haven’t seen my brother in years. The thought hits me like a blow to the chest.
Before I can say another word, my father approaches, a cluster of wealthy guests trailing behind him as he tells yet another story about his time overseas, his time in the army, his time serving a country he believed in.
He never knew what Crane did to me. He never knew what I endured while he was fighting for this country, for his family.
He never knew his daughter was being carved apart in the shadows of his own home.
I can’t be the one to tell him.
Kade glances at me, a silent question in his eyes, then looks at my father. I shake my head. Not now. Not here. Not like this. I turn to my dad, forcing a smile.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Petal. You look beautiful.” He kisses my cheek. I lean into him, grounding myself in the only parent who ever tried.
Movement at the staircase catches my eye. Owen approaches first, but it’s Jaxon behind him who steals the air from my lungs. His eyes lock onto mine the moment he reaches the bottom step. His expression crumples, emotion hitting him so hard he stumbles.
“Mara.” His voice is shaky, thick, full of everything he never said.
“Hey, you.” My voice wavers. The abandonment issues I buried years ago claw their way back to the surface. He left. He didn’t protect me. He didn’t know. He didn’t see. But he’s here now, and the ache of it is almost unbearable.
Beside me, Kade stiffens. His gaze lands on Jaxon, the friend who knows everything about him, the man who has been in his life longer than I have. The tension between them is instant, sharp, electric.
Jaxon’s gaze slides to Kade, eyebrows furrowing as he steps closer. He looks between us, reading the closeness, the way my arm is still around Kade’s waist, the way Kade stands half a step in front of me like he’s guarding me from the entire room.
“What the fuck are you doing here, brother?” Jaxon claps a hand on Kade’s shoulder and pulls him into a hug. The familiarity between them hits me like a shock.
Kade glances at me, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “That girl I was telling you about?”
Jaxon’s eyes widen. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
He looks at me again, really looks, and the realization hits him like a freight train. My cheeks tint pink as I understand just how close the two of them are. How much Kade told him. How much Jaxon already knows about me without ever seeing me.
The rest of the evening drifts into something almost normal. Senator Crane keeps his distance, though I feel his stare like a blade pressed to the back of my neck. But he doesn’t approach again. Not with Kade and Jaxon here. Not with the tension still simmering under Kade’s skin.
We sit around one of the smaller dining tables, away from the crowd. My father takes the seat beside me, Kade on my other side, Jaxon across from us. Owen lingers nearby, listening in with quiet interest. The lighting is warm, soft, almost comforting. It feels surreal.
Dad leans back in his chair, smiling.
“So, Petal, what have you been up to all these years? Besides avoiding your mother.”
I snort softly. “I opened my own tattoo studio. Small place. Just me and a few friends. It’s been going really well.”
Jaxon’s eyebrows lift. “You’re running a whole studio?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, trying not to sound proud even though I am. “We’ve built a good client base. Word of mouth. Some walk-ins. A few regulars who practically live there.”
Dad beams. “That’s my girl. Always had a steady hand.”
Kade glances at me, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “She’s incredible at what she does.”
My cheeks warm. I nudge him lightly with my knee under the table. He doesn’t look away from me.
Jaxon clears his throat. “Well, since we’re talking careers, I guess I should explain what I’ve been doing.”
Dad laughs. “Besides getting into trouble with this one?” He gestures at Kade.
Jaxon smirks. “We run Mercer Autos together. The shop. The business. The whole thing.”
I blink. “You two run it together?”
Kade nods. “Yeah. He’s the only person I trust to handle the books without screwing me over.”
“And he’s the only person I trust not to blow up an engine trying to ‘see what happens’,” Jaxon adds, pointing at him.
Kade rolls his eyes. “It was one time.”
“One time too many,” Jaxon fires back.
They both laugh, but there’s something underneath it. Something heavy. Something forged in violence, not just grease and tools. I see it in the way their eyes shift. In the way their shoulders tense. In the way they share a look that says more than words ever could.
Dad doesn’t notice. He’s too busy telling a story about his time overseas, about a night spent in a desert bunker with nothing but canned beans and a radio that only played static.
I listen, but my eyes drift to Kade and Jaxon.
There’s blood in their history. Not metaphorical. Real.
I can feel it in the way they sit. In the way they watch each other. In the way they watch the room.
But I keep my mouth shut. Some truths don’t need to be spoken tonight.
Jaxon leans forward, elbows on the table. “So, Mara. You’re with him.”
I glance at Kade. “Yeah.”
Kade’s hand finds mine under the table, fingers curling around my palm. He doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes on Jaxon, waiting.
Jaxon exhales slowly. “Well. Shit. I didn’t think the girl he wouldn’t shut up about was my sister.”
My father laughs. “Small world.”
Kade’s thumb brushes my knuckles. “Not small. Just right.”
My heart stutters.
Jaxon watches the exchange, something softening in his expression. “He’s good to you?”
I nod. “Yeah. He is.”
Jaxon looks at Kade again. “Then we’re good.”
Kade gives a small nod back, something unspoken passing between them.
Jaxon knows what monster lurks beneath the surface, he knows that I am safe with him, that he won’t hurt me, does he know the level of obsession that he’s harbored for me for who knows how long?
Kade
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His fucking sister. How didn’t I see it sooner. The same eyes. The same fire. The same way they both stand like they’ve survived something no one else in this room could handle. I glance between the siblings, then at their father, who is blissfully unaware of the rot that grew in his own home.
Then my gaze drifts to their mother.
She is glued to Senator Alistair Crane’s side. The man who hurt her daughter. The man who carved fear into her bones. The man who made her look over her shoulder every night for monsters that weren’t imaginary.
Crane’s gaze never leaves Mara for long.
It breaks only to flick toward me, assessing, calculating, watching me the way a predator watches another predator.
He looks at me like I am temporary, as if I am someone who will eventually let go of her, he is waiting for a moment where he can slip back into her life and steal what he thinks is still his.
Not a fucking chance.
I sit beside her, listening to her talk about her tattoo studio, watching her laugh with her brother, watching her father beam with pride. She deserves this. She deserves peace. She deserves safety. She deserves a life without him in it.
Caldera can wait.
This bastard comes first.