Heir In The Shadows

EPISODE 18

Damon and Eli After Jax’s Disappearance

Damon had tried everything to reach Jax. Calls, messages, texts—nothing. Every time he dialed, a cold automated voice told him the number was unavailable. He went to the places Jax used to fight, the underground rings, the shadowed gyms where only a select few were allowed—but no one knew anything. Jax was always a man of secrecy, always kept to himself, and now, after breaking things off, he had vanished completely. The frustration and helplessness gnawed at Damon, making each unanswered attempt sting sharper than the last. He felt like a man grasping at smoke, powerless to hold onto what had once been his world.

Eli, on the other hand, knew better than to waste his time. He knew Jax far too well. From the moment their betrayal began, Eli had made a choice: if they were discovered, he would accept the consequences. There would be no running, no excuses—what was done was done. Though a twinge of regret lingered, it was tempered by a harsher truth: he had seized the opportunity he had longed for, and he wouldn’t deny himself now.

Eli had secretly carried a crush on Damon for years, hidden beneath layers of loyalty and friendship. When the chance presented itself—when Jax had withdrawn from Damon—he had taken it. But the reality of it now was complicated. Damon was still searching for Jax, desperate, haunted by loss, and Eli knew that nothing he could offer would erase the shadow of Jax looming over him.

Eli sat back, quietly observing Damon pacing the room, his face tight with tension, his hands shaking from the frustration of being unable to find the man he had loved and betrayed. Damon’s desperation, his endless longing, it was like a storm that Eli both feared and desired to navigate. He had Damon’s attention, but it was fractured, divided by a love that had already proven untouchable.

And the hardest truth to swallow: Eli knew little to nothing about Jax’s true identity. Jax had always said it didn’t matter, that what counted was their brotherhood and the loyalty they owed each other. But that brotherhood had been shattered, destroyed in one night of betrayal. And Eli? He was the one who had broken it.

A hollow ache settled in Eli’s chest. He could feel the weight of his own choices pressing down, the enormity of the consequences looming. Damon’s gaze was still searching, still desperate, and Eli knew that no matter what he tried, he could not fill the space Jax had left behind. And yet, in that impossibility, a dark, twisted hope flickered—maybe, just maybe, Damon would turn to him in his loneliness, and Eli could finally claim what he had long desired.

But deep inside, Eli knew it would never be simple. Jax wasn’t just gone; he was untouchable, untamable, a presence that haunted every corner of Damon’s mind. And Eli was left to navigate the wreckage of love, betrayal, and desire that he himself had helped create.

---

Jax had been completely consumed by his business lately. Between managing global operations tied to his legacy and staying ahead of rival factions, there had been no time to meet Luciano, no time for personal connections. And yet, despite the silence, Luciano never failed. Sweet little messages, teasing jabs, casual greetings—they continued to arrive on Jax’s phone, subtle yet persistent, each one a reminder that someone was thinking about him, someone cared enough to reach out without expectation.

Luciano had no idea just how effective his messages were. They were piercing through the walls Jax had carefully built around his heart, breaking down the armor that his heartbreak with Damon had forged. At first, Jax barely registered them—small distractions amid deadlines and negotiations—but over time, he found himself stealing glances at his phone, reading and rereading the words, a small, involuntary smile forming at the corner of his lips. Not a laugh, not a broad grin, but a faint, fleeting warmth that only Luciano could evoke. It was progress, subtle yet undeniable.

A month had passed, and Luciano had yet to hear from Jax directly. Two whole weeks without a word. Panic would have overtaken most men, but Luciano knew Jax well enough to recognize that silence did not mean disinterest. Determined, he made his way to Jax’s estate. The gates opened to him, and Jax’s men, though unsure of their boss’s exact whereabouts, welcomed him without hesitation. They could offer no answers, only shrugged shoulders and polite nods.

Only Draco and Vince knew Jax’s location, having been personally taken along by their boss. And yet, Luciano noticed something remarkable: an unspoken respect lingered in the air. Jax had left explicit orders—no one was to deny Luciano entry to the estate, no one was to question him, and should he wish to stay, he was free to do so. The same deference would be given to him on every visit. It was a silent message, one only someone attuned to Jax’s ways could read: trust, permission, and a place in his world even in his absence.

Luciano, of course, could not stay. His purpose had been to find Jax, and the estate, beautiful as it was, offered no answers without the man himself. Still, the knowledge that Jax had instructed his men to give him this respect made his chest tighten with something akin to awe and anticipation. Jax’s reach had extended even into his absence, a quiet declaration that he had begun letting Luciano in, slowly, surely, piece by piece.

Luciano walked away, heart racing, mind spinning. Jax wasn’t overtly expressing it, but the small gestures, the quiet permissions, the invisible threads woven into his world—they told Luciano everything. He was finding a way into Jax’s heart, even if Jax himself had yet to admit it, even if Jax had yet to voice it. And for the first time in weeks, Luciano felt a deep, potent hope. He was not being shut out. He was being welcomed, cautiously, delicately, and he knew that patience, persistence, and care would see him closer to Jax than ever before.

---

Jax had gone overseas, to one of the most dangerous zones where a crucial part of his empire lay. A volatile situation had erupted—one that could destabilize months of careful planning if left unattended. Without hesitation, he brought along Draco and Vince, his most trusted men, the only ones who had ever seen the full extent of his ruthlessness.

From the moment he set foot in that territory, Jax became the storm. His decisions were precise, calculated, and merciless. Anyone who opposed him quickly realized that underestimating the Kingmaker’s heir was a fatal mistake. Streets that had known chaos were quieted under his command; deals that teetered on the edge of betrayal were enforced with an iron fist. He gave no quarter, left no loose ends. Weeks passed, and through it all, Jax remained untouchable.

The network there was practically non-existent. Phones, messages, social media—nothing worked. He was unreachable, invisible, a ghost even to those who cared for him. And perhaps that was exactly what he needed: silence, space, time to breathe… and time for his mind to wander. Inevitably, it wandered to Luciano.

He wondered, quietly, secretly, if Luciano would be worried. Would he be searching for him, sending messages, calling his men, pushing every resource he had to find him? Or would he simply forget, letting the absence fade like a casual acquaintance? The thought gnawed at him, but deep down, he hoped that Luciano’s feelings were real, that he would look. After all, Luciano had slowly begun to enter the chambers of his heart, carefully, gently, in a way Damon never could. Unlike Damon, Luciano didn’t take by force, didn’t manipulate, didn’t betray—he nurtured. Even now, as Jax considered it, he realized he no longer thought of Damon—not with the same intensity, not with the same pain. Luciano was his anchor, his unexpected healing.

With a heavy exhale, Jax called Draco and Vince into his private quarters. “Prepare for departure tomorrow,” he instructed, his voice calm but edged with anticipation. He could already feel it—the magnetic pull of home, the thought of seeing Luciano again, the small, elusive smile that had begun to settle across his face these past weeks. It had been too long, and he could hardly wait.

---

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Luciano was in turmoil. Weeks had passed, and his men had followed every possible lead, scouring every corner of the globe where Jax might be. Yet every trail ended in silence, every hint led to a dead end. Phones went unanswered. Messages left unread. The trail was cold, frustrating, agonizing.

Luciano hadn’t slept properly in days. Nights stretched endlessly, each tick of the clock amplifying the ache in his chest. Thoughts of Jax—his intensity, his calm, his rare smiles—haunted him. What if something had gone wrong? What if he couldn’t survive? The mere possibility of losing Jax tightened his throat, a heavy knot of fear and longing. Every heartbeat reminded him of the emptiness he felt in Jax’s absence.

Yet, in the darkest corners of his worry, hope persisted. Hope that wherever Jax was, he was safe. Hope that soon, he would return. And with that hope, Luciano resolved: no matter how long it took, no matter the obstacles, he would find him. Because Jax wasn’t just part of his life—he had become the center of it, the anchor in the storm of Luciano’s heart.