Chapter 11 - Eyes Like Knives

He didn’t knock, didn’t call, didn’t even send for her like he usually did. Jaxon Morreau just walked into her hotel room at 1:37 a.m., a storm wrapped in black silk.

Raven sat up in bed, heart immediately hammering. She’d been half-asleep, dreaming of sirens and blood on marble. The sight of him in her doorway, shadowed and seething, felt like a continuation of the dream, only worse, because it was real.

“Jaxon?”

“Get up.”

His voice was quiet, but it cut through her like a blade. She rose without arguing, dragging the sheets around her. He didn’t wait. Just turned and walked deeper into the room, pacing like he was holding something back.

“What happened?” she asked.

He turned and when their eyes met, the room tilted. She’d seen him angry before, cold and controlled, but this wasn’t anger, this was betrayal.

“How long have you been lying to me?” he asked.

Her mouth went dry.

“I don’t...”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t insult both of us with that voice. The sweet one you use when you think you still have leverage.”

She swallowed. “How much do you know?”

“Enough.”

He crossed to her. Not rushed. Not wild. But every step was charged with coiled violence.

“Your name isn’t Raye Kincaid,” he said, staring her down. “You’re not a dancer. You’re not from Vegas. You don’t belong to this world.”

“Jaxon...”

“Tell me the truth.”

Silence stretched.

She could’ve lied again. Could’ve tried to seduce her way out. Plead. Deny. But she didn’t, because the way he looked at her right now, there was no room for fiction.

“I’m a journalist,” she said softly. “My name is Raven Knight. I’ve been investigating Club Eden… and you.”

He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but something behind his eyes went still. Dead still.

“How long?”

“Three months.”

“Since the moment you walked in.”

“Yes.”

Jaxon exhaled once. Slowly. “So this has all been a game to you,” he said.

“No.”

He stepped closer. His hands didn’t touch he, but his presence did. It scorched.

“Every time you knelt. Every time you begged. Every time you came for me. Was that all just for your story?”

“No,” she whispered. “I didn’t expect to feel anything.”

“And now?”

“I feel everything.”

He stared at her like he was peeling her skin back with his gaze.

“I should end this,” he said.

Raven nodded. “Then do it.”

But he didn’t, because whatever war he was fighting behind those eyes, he hadn’t chosen a side yet.

“You came into my world thinking you were the hunter,” he said. “And now you’re standing here, half-naked, begging for the monster not to devour you.”

“I’m not begging.”

“You are,” he murmured. “With your eyes.”

He reached up and ran his thumb across her cheek. “You lied to me.”

“I told you the truth tonight.”

“Only because you were caught.”

“Only because I care.”

That stopped him for a breath, then he turned away, walked to the window, staring down at the sleeping city like it was a puzzle only he could solve.

“I knew,” he said quietly.

Raven blinked. “What?”

“I knew you were lying the first night you said your name.”

“Then why let me stay?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Because I wanted to see how far you’d go.”

Silence.

“Have you told anyone what you found?” he asked.

“No.”

“You recorded anything?”

“No.”

“You copy files? Documents? Names?”

“…Yes.”

His shoulders tensed.

“But I haven’t sent them anywhere,” she said quickly. “I haven’t published. I haven’t written a single word.”

“Why?”

“Because I was trying to understand you.”

He turned fully now. Walked back to her. “You still think there’s something to understand?”

“I think… I think you’re not what I expected.”

“Good,” he said darkly. “Because I’m worse.”

He left without touching her again. Just a single look at the door before stepping out.

And Raven collapsed to the bed, heart hollow and body buzzing. Not from fear but from grief, because she’d seen something in his eyes tonight she hadn’t expected. She could have understood rage or hatred, but the pain in his eyes, that was something else.

The next day, Jaxon didn’t speak to her. Not in the office. Not in the club. He didn’t acknowledge her at all.

She tried to stay professional. Focused. She filed invoices. Checked shipments. Sat in on a meeting with a weapons supplier who wore a wedding ring and talked about killing like it was math, but Jaxon never looked at her. Not once.

Later that night, she found Zane in the cigar lounge. He was playing poker with two dancers and one cartel lieutenant, all of whom looked like they were either about to lose money, or lose fingers.

He looked up the moment Raven stepped in. “Well, well,” he drawled. “The pretty lie walks.”

She crossed her arms. “You told him.”

Zane smiled, slow and wicked. “Eventually.”

“Why?”

“Because I like to see what happens when truth becomes a weapon.”

She didn’t flinch.

Zane set down his cards, stood, and walked to her. “You look like you’re about to break,” he whispered. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

He grinned. “Good.”

Then his smile faded, and his voice dropped. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever lied to him? The only one who’s ever tried to get inside the fortress?”

She didn’t answer.

“Jaxon doesn’t break like other people. He doesn’t shatter. He remembers.”

Zane reached up and ran a single finger down the edge of her jaw. “But maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll remember you softly.”

She didn’t sleep that night. Instead, she went to the top floo, to Jaxon’s office, he wasn’t there, but the safe was. She didn’t open it, she just stared at it and whispered to herself: “I’m not walking away.”

In her journal, she wrote: He knows. I told him and he looked at me like I was something he loved, and something he might destroy. I didn’t come here to fall, but I’m already at the bottom.

His eyes were knives tonight and I let them cut me open.