Chapter 23 - Chains Of Guilt

Flashback

The last time Raven saw her brother alive, his eyes were glassy from too many pills and not enough hope.

She had burst into his apartment after the third unanswered call, already bracing for the worst. The air had reeked of sweat, vomit, and the artificial sweetness of cherry cough syrup. Gabriel had been sprawled on the couch, the TV blaring static, a needle cap glinting on the carpet.

“Jesus, Gabe,” she had whispered, kneeling beside him. “Why?”

His lips had moved, but only a breath had come out. A sound like “sorry” or “sunlight.” She never figured it out.

The ambulance had taken twelve minutes. He died in nine.

She’d made a vow that night, on the cracked tile of his bathroom floor with a sob lodged in her throat. She would burn the system that buried him. Expose the networks that laced the city’s veins with poison. Uncover the names of the men who profited from suffering and called it business.

But that was before Jaxon Morreau.

Now, she sat in his penthouse, wrapped in the luxury her brother never had, staring at herself in the reflection of a wine-dark window, and wondered if she was still that girl with fire in her blood. A girl with a spine full of vengeance. Or just a woman bought and tamed.

Present

That morning had started with silence between them.

Jaxon had left early, the tension still clinging to his shoulders like frost. Since the confrontation over the safe, things had shifted. He hadn’t punished her. He hadn’t even raised his voice. That made it worse.

Pain she could brace for, but this quiet disappointment? It gutted her.

She hadn’t told him Zane had called again. That Zane knew everything. That the files she touched had left fingerprints not on the paper, but on her soul.

Instead, she sat on the edge of the massive bed, staring down at the untouched tray of breakfast one of the staff had brought in. She didn’t want food. She wanted control. Answers. Relief. But most of all she wanted her brother back.

The flashback hit her mid-shower. Gabriel’s laugh echoing down a hallway. His clumsy dancing to whatever band was playing on his ancient iPod. The way he used to paint their shared bedroom walls in bursts of neon color when their foster father passed out drunk.

“You always see the worst in people,” he once told her. “I see what they hide under it.”

She slid down the tiled wall, water cascading over her as she curled in on herself. Her chest ached. Guilt dug its claws into her ribs and refused to let go.

She had gotten to close to Jaxon to expose him. She was supposed to tear him apart from the inside. Instead, she’d fallen for him, and now her past was a loaded gun Zane held to her temple.

Later that afternoon, she tried to confess. Jaxon was reading something at the kitchen counter, jaw tight, suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled.

“Jaxon,” she said quietly. “Can we talk?”

He looked up immediately, eyes sharp, attentive, but before she could speak, his phone buzzed. An urgent message from Victor. His expression darkened.

“Not now,” he said. “There’s a situation at the club.”

Her mouth closed. Her chance slipped through her fingers. She watched him leave, her pulse stuttering. She was unraveling and couldn’t seem to stop.

By evening, her hands were shaking as she applied her lipstick.

The gala was an obligation neither of them could skip. Calabrese Foundation. Glimmering skyline views, champagne fountains, and every monster in a suit pretending they hadn’t sold their souls.

She wore a red silk gown that clung to her like sin. Jaxon said nothing when he saw her, just offered his arm.

In the car, the silence was suffocating. The city lights flickered past like stars dying.

“You’re quiet,” he said at last.

“I’m fine,” she murmured.

“You’re not.”

She turned away. “Can we not do this tonight?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t push.

The ballroom glistened. Crystal chandeliers, gold trim, a string quartet playing something old and expensive. Raven played the part perfectly, Jaxon’s consort, poised and untouchable, but her heart was in her throat the entire time.

Every conversation felt dangerous. Every laugh sounded like a threat.

Zane was somewhere in the room. She could feel it. Like ice down her spine.

They were halfway through mingling when Jaxon’s hand found the small of her back.

“I need to step away. Five minutes,” he said. “Stay visible.”

She nodded, throat tight. The moment he disappeared into the crowd, she slipped out onto the balcony, gasping for air.

She barely registered the figure stepping up behind her until a hand brushed her bare shoulder.

“I always like you in red,” Zane murmured.

She stiffened. “Don’t touch me.”

He withdrew, mockingly innocent. “Relax. I just came to say hi.”

“You’ve said enough,” she hissed. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want. You’re in this now, Raven. You danced too close to the fire.” He leaned in. “And now you get to burn.”

“You sick bastard...” She lunged forward, but he stepped back with a laugh.

“Tick-tock,” he whispered. “Tell Jaxon, and your secrets go wide. Everything. Your and his frug addictions,the affair with your editor that cost him his career.

Her blood ran cold. She knew half of it was lies, but still just the way he said it.

“I own your story now,” he said. Then he vanished into the crowd like a ghost.

Back at the penthouse, Raven didn’t speak. Not when Jaxon poured her a drink. Not when he asked what was wrong.

She flinched when he touched her wrist.

His eyes sharpened. “You’ve been off all day.”

“I’m tired,” she lied.

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, then caught himself. He softened. “Please, talk to me.”

She stood, pacing like a caged thing. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

She turned on him, sudden and wild. “What do you see when you look at me, Jaxon? Some pretty little toy you can train and dress up? Or do you know I’m poison? That I destroy everything I touch?”

His face darkened. “Where is this coming from?”

She nearly screamed it. “You can’t keep me here like some fucking doll. I’m not safe. I never was!”

Jaxon moved before she could bolt, grabbing her wrists, gently but firmly. “Stop,” he said. “Just stop.”

Her breath came in shudders. “I can’t...”

“You’re spiraling,” he said, voice low. “You’re not thinking straight.”

“I’m not yours to control!”

“I’m not trying to control you,” he snapped. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Something cracked inside her. She shoved him, sobbed once, then collapsed to the floor.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispered. “I wanted to destroy you, and now I... I don’t even know what I want.”

Jaxon knelt in front of her. “I see you,” he said softly. “All of you. Even the parts you think are too ugly to love.”

She shook her head, tears slipping free. “Zane’s threatening me.”

He tensed. “What?”

“He knows about the files. About Gabe. He sent me a picture, he dug up my brother’s grave.”

Jaxon didn’t speak for a long time. Then he moved to the wall, tapped a code, and a panel slid open, revealing a hidden safe. He pulled out a pair of thick leather cuffs and something that looked like a medical wristband.

“Get on the bed,” he said, quietly but firmly.

Raven blinked. “Jaxon?”

“It’s not punishment,” he said. “It’s protection.”

She hesitated. Then, wordlessly, obeyed.

He secured the soft restraints around her wrists and fastened them to the headboard. The medical band hummed faintly, monitors built in. Heart rate. Blood pressure.

He sat beside her, stroking her hair.

“You’re staying here,” he said. “Until I deal with him. Until I can breathe knowing you’re safe.”

She closed her eyes, letting the tears come. Not because she was trapped, but because, for once, someone cared enough to hold her still while she shattered.