Heir In The Shadows

EPISODE 15

The door to the penthouse opened quietly, the sound of keys jangling against the lock announcing Damon’s arrival. He stepped inside, his briefcase in hand, his expression weary from the day—only to stop dead in his tracks.

Jax was there.

Seated in the living room, a glass of whisky resting on the low table before him, his posture was deceptively calm. But the atmosphere in the room was suffocating; every inch of it was charged with tension. Jax’s silence was heavier than any words Damon had ever heard from him.

“Jax…” Damon’s voice faltered as the briefcase slipped from his hand. “You’re here. I’ve been—God, I’ve been trying to reach you. I—”

“Sit,” Jax interrupted, his tone measured, void of visible anger but edged with something infinitely more dangerous: finality.

Damon hesitated but obeyed, lowering himself into the chair opposite Jax, his eyes darting nervously as though trying to gauge the storm that lingered just behind that controlled demeanor.

“I came to get my things,” Jax began, his voice steady, deliberate. “Everything’s already gone. The only reason I stayed behind is because there’s one last thing that needed to be said face-to-face.”

Damon’s throat tightened. “Please, don’t do this. We can fix it. I know I—”

Jax leaned forward slightly, his gaze cutting through him. “Fix it? Tell me, Damon. Tell me how you intend to fix betraying me with my best friend. Tell me how you make up for turning our home into a place of filth and lies.” His words were calm, but each syllable was sharpened, calculated to strike.

“I love you, Jax,” Damon pleaded, his voice cracking. “Yes, I made a mistake, I was lonely, you were—busy, always gone. I didn’t mean—”

Jax cut him off again, the whisky glass tapping lightly against the table as he set it down. “Busy? Damon, even when I was drowning in work, the little time I had—it was for you. Always for you. I gave you what I never gave anyone else. My loyalty. My protection. My heart.” His eyes darkened. “And you chose to share our bed with him. My bed. The same bed where you swore you were mine, body and soul.”

Damon flinched, his composure unraveling. Tears stream down his face but Jax showed no mercy. His eyes glistened faintly, but he held himself together.

Damon reached forward, desperation clawing through his movements. “Please, listen to me—”

But Jax stood, towering over him now, the air shifting with the weight of his resolve. “There’s nothing left to listen to. I’m not here to fight, Damon. I’m not here to scream or break things. I’m here to tell you this—” His voice dropped, cold and absolute. “I'm not Eli Damon. I don't share what's mine. We are done. By the time I leave this penthouse, whatever we had ceases to exist. Consider this place yours, its the last thing I will ever do for you.

Damon’s breath hitched, his face pale. “Jax, don’t—please, don’t walk away. I can’t lose you.”

“You lost me the moment you laid with Eli,” Jax replied, his tone final. Without another word, Jax walked out, the echo of the door closing behind him sounding like the final nail sealing a coffin. Damon sat frozen, staring at the empty space Jax had left behind, realizing with dawning horror that the one man who had given him everything had just slipped away—for good.

And outside, Jax lit a cigarette with trembling hands, starring up at the night sky. A single tear slid down his cheek, but he brushed it away quickly. He had promised himself never to cry again.

This time, he would keep that promise.

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The sound of the door shutting still echoed in Damon’s ears long after Jax was gone. The silence that followed was deafening, oppressive—like the walls themselves were mocking him. His chest tightened, and his breath came unevenly.

“No… no, no, no…” Damon stumbled forward, his hands shaking as though he could still reach Jax if he just moved fast enough. He clawed at the door handle, but when he opened it, the hallway was empty. Jax was gone.

Gone.

Damon collapsed against the doorframe, his legs buckling beneath him. His fingers dragged down the polished wood until he was kneeling on the floor, gasping like a man drowning. “He can’t leave me. He can’t.” His words were desperate whispers, as though saying them aloud would change reality.

His eyes stung as memories assaulted him—the first night Jax pulled him into his world, the protection, the warmth, the way Jax’s cold eyes softened only for him. Damon’s hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms until they bled.

“I only wanted more of him…” Damon muttered brokenly. “He was never here. I just—I needed someone. Eli was… there. But I never stopped loving you, Jax. I never did.” His voice cracked, and a sob tore its way out of him.

But deep down, beneath all his excuses, Damon knew the truth: it wasn’t loneliness that drove him to Eli. It was weakness. A craving for validation, for attention Jax couldn’t give in the way Damon demanded. And now, because of that weakness, he had destroyed the very thing he couldn’t live without.

He pressed his forehead to the floor, tears finally breaking free. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… Jax…” But the apology was swallowed by silence.

The penthouse—once alive with Jax’s presence—felt hollow now, stripped of its soul. Damon felt it with bone-deep certainty: Jax wasn’t coming back. And that thought shattered him more than any punishment ever could.

---

Meanwhile…

Jax drove back to his estate, the weight of finality pressing down on his shoulders. The betrayal still burned, but the decision he had made gave him a grim sense of clarity. He wasn’t weak for letting go—he was reclaiming himself.

As his car pulled through the massive gates of the Kingmaker estate, guards straightened at attention, bowing in silent respect. Draco was waiting with a van already parked inside, its contents safely unloaded.

But what caught Jax off guard wasn’t Draco.

It was Luciano.

The other Mafia boss leaned casually against his sleek black car, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. His sharp eyes lifted when Jax’s car rolled in, a faint smirk curving his lips.

“You’ve been hard to reach,” Luciano said smoothly as Jax stepped out, his tone teasing, but his gaze searching. He was studying Jax the way only Luciano could—like he was peeling back every layer, determined to see the man beneath the armor.

Jax shot him a guarded look, adjusting his coat. “And you’ve been too eager to follow.”

Luciano chuckled, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his heel. “Can you blame me? You disappear for days, and when you finally show up, you look like a man with the whole world weighing on his shoulders.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I heard about Damon. About Eli. You didn’t deserve that, Jax.”

Jax stiffened, his jaw tightening at the mention of their names. “My private life isn’t your concern.”

“Maybe,” Luciano admitted with a shrug, his smirk softening into something quieter. “But you are my concern.”

The words hung heavy between them. For a moment, Jax didn’t answer. His mind was a battlefield—Damon’s betrayal still bleeding him dry, Luciano’s persistence tugging at something he refused to name.

Finally, Jax brushed past him, heading toward the mansion doors. “If you know so much, then you should know this: I’m not looking for anyone to fill Damon’s place. Not now. Not ever.”

Luciano’s lips curved into the faintest, knowing smile as he watched him go. He didn’t chase. He didn’t press.

Because Luciano understood something Damon never did—Jax didn’t need someone to chain him down. He needed someone patient enough to stand by his side until he was ready.

And Luciano had all the patience in the world.

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