The call came at midnight. Jaxon had been pacing the penthouse, shirt half-buttoned, whiskey sweating in his hand. Raven watched him from the sofa, knowing better than to speak when his silence carried an edge that sharp. The phone buzzed once on the glass table, and everything in him went still.
“Talk,” he said.
The voice on the other end was strangled with static and pain. “Boss… it’s Victor. We’re hit.”
The line cut.
Jaxon didn’t hesitate. “Keys.” His eyes sliced toward Raven. “Stay here.”
“Jax...”
“Stay.” It wasn’t a request, not this time, it was an order.
He was down the elevator, engine roaring out of the garage before she could think of following. Tires screeched through wet streets, city lights blurring. He didn’t need directions.
Loyalty leaves a trail, you always know w
