The rain hadn’t stopped since morning, turning the streets around Club Eden into a slick maze of reflections. Inside, the music still pounded, the dancers still smiled, but Jaxon knew the pulse of the place had changed. Fear hung in the air like smoke, invisible but choking.
He’d kept his face carved from marble through the day’s fallout, police inspections that “just happened” to coincide with Zane’s threats, a liquor shipment mysteriously delayed, whispers among the staff that something ugly was brewing. Every message screamed sabotage, but Jaxon refused to give his brother the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.
Tonight wasn’t about cleaning up Zane’s mess. Tonight was about springing a trap.
Jaxon moved through the private corridors of Eden, his security chief, Victor, matching pace
