Part 91

NorthThe lights in the interrogation room were bright, harsh even, buzzing faintly overhead in a way that drilled straight into his skull. They weren’t meant to illuminate so much as expose. The wooden table in front of him was scarred and stained, he wasn’t sure with what, but the dark blotches soaked into the grain made his stomach twist. His lawyer sat on his left, posture stiff, hands folded neatly on the table. Across from him sat the same two detectives who had spoken to him years earlier about his father’s disappearance. They looked older now, more tired, but there was something sharper in their eyes—something that hadn’t been there before.“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us again, Mr. St. John,” Detective Blanely said as he shuffled a few case folders together. “You made it sound like I didn’t have much of a choice,” North said, his voice even, carefully measured.Blanely didn’t smile. “New evidence in your father’s case has come to light,” he said, and glanced at the

Part 92

AxlThey left that same night and boarded a commercial flight to Boston. The decision had been made quickly, almost instinctively, leaving little room for hesitation. He moved through the airport on autopilot, muscles tight beneath his skin, his thoughts racing faster than his feet. They flew first class, and he kept the baseball cap pulled low on his head, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes. It didn’t matter. People still recognized him—the double takes, the whispered names, the phones raised just a little too casually. Even when he turned his face away or shifted in his seat, someone always seemed to catch a glimpse. It was ridiculous how little privacy existed anymore.Aspen sat beside him, calm on the surface, though he could feel the tension in her whenever their arms brushed. Her fingers curled and uncurled in her lap, a small, unconscious movement that told him she was thinking just as hard as he was. When the plane finally landed and they disembarked, the stale cabin air

Part 93

RikerTwo years earlierNone of it sat well with him. The whole thing had left a bitter taste in his mouth, one that clung stubbornly no matter how many times he swallowed. It wasn’t fear that bothered him—he knew fear intimately—it was something heavier, something unsettling, the kind that crawled beneath the skin and refused to let go. He got to his feet and grabbed the duffel bag hiding the bundles of cash, the weight of it pulling at his shoulder as he lifted it. The money felt wrong in his hands this time. He stowed the bag in his ceiling, pushing it into the narrow space he used for things he didn’t want to see. Then he grabbed his keys from the counter, the metal cold against his palm.He’d done similar jobs in the past, harder ones, bloodier ones, but never before had it bothered him like this. He couldn’t remember when he’d taken the wrong turn—when discipline and duty had eroded into something darker—but somehow he’d gone from being a marine to a kidnapper, and sometimes a m

Part 94

MeritSunlight filtered through the open curtains, pale and warm, and a slight breeze made the fabric move in slow, lazy waves. Curtains? The thought surfaced sluggishly, disconnected. She blinked, lashes sticking together, and shifted on the bed. The mattress dipped softly beneath her weight, unfamiliar but comfortable. The room was painted a light yellow, not the sterile white she half-expected, and the sheet draped over her was soft cotton, worn thin in a way that suggested use rather than neglect. The pillows beneath her head were plump and forgiving, cradling her neck instead of forcing it into stiffness. Her chest tightened as awareness crept in.“Don’t try to sit up too fast,” a voice said.Her head snapped to the side on instinct, panic flaring white-hot. She scrambled to her knees, heart racing, and the room spun violently. Her hand flew to her head as dizziness overtook her, nausea rolling through her stomach in a sickening wave. Gentle hands caught her shoulders, steady but

Part 95

AspenFive years laterShe sat on the wooden deck, which Axl had built with his own two hands. The wood was warm beneath her bare feet, sun-baked and smooth from years of use, each plank carefully sanded and sealed. She could still remember him measuring twice, cursing once, insisting on doing it himself even when contractors had offered. He’d taken a break from touring a year earlier, but Blunt Pain still recorded albums regularly. The house was quieter now, more grounded, yet music still drifted through it like breath. They’d won numerous awards, the kind that gathered dust on shelves because life had become fuller than accolades, and they’d finally decided that for four months each year, they would rest and not tour—just long enough to feel alive without losing themselves.She sipped her coffee slowly, the warmth seeping into her palms, grounding her. Merit joined her on the swing bench, the wood creaking softly beneath their combined weight, and Aspen smiled as she watched Axl on

All Chapters of Blunt Pain: Chapter 91 - Chapter 95

Part 91

Part 92

Part 93

Part 94

Part 95