Chapter Twelve - No Rest for the Living
1131 Words
The morning sun poured in through the blinds, soft and gold, cutting clean lines across Jax’s sheets. Taylor moved above him, her hair a curtain of silk around their faces, her breath warm, skin flushed. Her hands braced on his chest, hips rolling slow, like she wanted to stretch every second into something permanent.
Jax’s hand wrapped around her nape, grounding her, guiding her, eyes locked on hers. There was no urgency. Just her. Just him. Just the life they were finally allowing themselves to feel again.
She leaned down and kissed him—softly at first, then deeper. He groaned against her lips, letting his hands travel down her back, anchoring her closer. It was their language now. A reminder. A claiming. A promise that no matter what happened outside that door, they still had this.
Then came the knock.
A sharp, purposeful bang against the door.
Taylor froze. Jax dropped his head back against the pillow with a growl. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Another knock, firmer.
“Jax,” came Kellan’s voice, muffled but edged with something that made Jax’s pulse change rhythm. “We’ve got a problem.”
Taylor slowly pulled away, breathless and blinking, reaching for the covers.
Jax sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Of course.”
He climbed out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans from the floor, voice rough when he called, “Give me two minutes.”
From the other side of the door, Kellan replied, “We don’t have five.”
Jax cursed under his breath, already throwing on a shirt. Taylor sat up, sheets around her, worry creasing her brow.
“What is it?” she asked.
He leaned down, kissed her forehead. “Not sure. But if Kellan’s knocking, it’s not small.”
By the time he stepped into the hallway, Kellan was waiting—jaw tight, expression grim.
“Denny?” Jax asked.
Kellan nodded. “He’s stirring s**t again. Word is, he’s trying to move product through a channel that runs right past our northern perimeter.”
Jax’s eyes narrowed. “He testing me?”
“Looks like it.”
Jax exhaled through his nose, that familiar fire flaring beneath his ribcage. “Then let’s show him what happens when you test a man who’s got nothing left to lose.”
Kellan didn’t smile. But the edge of pride in his eyes was unmistakable.
They walked together toward the war room.
Peace never lasted long—not in their world. And now, it was time to remind Denny why Jax Maddox still ran this town.
The table in the war room groaned under the weight of tension. Men gathered around it—Diesel, Mason, Kellan, a few of the trusted old guard, and some of the newer blood still proving their worth. Jax stood at the head, arms crossed, presence sharp and unshakable. The room quieted as soon as he opened his mouth.
“This isn’t a warning,” Jax said, his voice low but carrying steel. “This is a line in the sand.”
He tossed a grainy surveillance photo onto the table—trucks near the northern perimeter, marked with Denny’s crew’s identifiers.
“We told him once. Stay out of our territory. That was it. One chance.” His gaze swept across the room, locking eyes with each man. “He didn’t listen. So now, we don’t talk. We move.”
Kellan leaned forward, studying the photo, then looked to Jax. “What’s the play?”
“We hit the shipment before it crosses. No damage to our own territory, no warning shots. We take it. We burn it.” Jax’s tone didn’t waver. “He wants to push through our backyard like we’re ghosts. Like Ghost never died to protect what we built. That ends now.”
There was a long silence. Mason leaned back in his chair, jaw tight. “If we do this, it’s war.”
Jax’s gaze didn’t falter. “Then it’s war.”
No hesitation. No fear. Just clarity. Purpose. The kind of clarity that only came after losing everything and deciding to fight for what was left.
Kellan sat straighter. “I’ll lead the intercept.”
“No,” Jax said. “You’re with me. We lead it together.”
Kellan nodded once, understanding what that meant. Trust. Brotherhood. Fire-forged loyalty.
Jax looked to the rest. “We’ll ride out at nightfall. Gear up. Full team. No one gets sloppy, no one gets soft. This is the last time Denny crosses our line.”
He turned without another word. Orders given. Judgment cast. The room moved around him—men rising, grabbing gear, preparing like they had a hundred times before. But this time… there was no room for mercy.
Jax Maddox had already buried his brother.
He wouldn’t bury a legacy.
The compound was already humming with movement—gearing up, strapping down, engines being checked and weapons counted. But in Jax’s room, time slowed.
Taylor was by the window, arms crossed, watching the men outside. She didn’t turn when he came in, but she didn’t need to.
“They ride at nightfall,” he said simply.
She nodded, voice soft. “You’ll come back.”
His footsteps stopped just behind her. “This isn’t goodbye.”
Taylor turned slowly, her eyes finding his—stormy but calm. She searched his face, looking for cracks, any trace of doubt. There weren’t any. That was Jax Maddox. Steel and thunder.
Still, she stepped closer, gripping the front of his shirt. Her fingers twisted into the fabric, pulling him into her space like she always could.
“I need to feel it,” she whispered. “Before you go.”
Then she kissed him—hard, deep, full of unspoken things. He groaned against her mouth, hands already at her hips, but Taylor didn’t give him control. Not this time.
She pushed him back toward the bed. Jax sat, letting her guide him. She climbed into his lap, straddling him, her fingers threading into his hair, her mouth on his like she couldn’t get enough.
“This isn’t just need,” she said against his lips. “It’s you. I just want you.”
“Then take me,” Jax growled.
And she did.
Right there in the quiet before chaos, Taylor took her time. She moved with purpose, grounding them both in heat, in presence, in everything that still burned between them. There were no rushed promises. No dramatics. Just two people reconnecting at the edge of war.
When it was over, she curled against his chest, breathing him in. He wrapped his arms around her and held her like he never intended to let go.
Because he didn’t.
Not again.
- Writer
