CHAPTER 2 SHADOWS OUTSIDE THE WINDOW
1309 Words
Jaxon woke up to the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the distant patter of dawn rain. His body felt heavy, like a dozen iron chains were wrapped around his limbs. Every muscle protested as he pushed himself up on the narrow clinic bed.
For a moment, he didn’t know where he was.
Then the memories crashed back
the chase,
the fight,
the alley,
and Lena’s hands pulling him back from the edge of darkness.
He blinked slowly.
The clinic was small and tidy, with faded green walls and neatly labeled cabinets. A pot of tea sat steaming gently on a counter. A soft blanket lay across his legsthe kind that smelled faintly of lavender detergent and something calmer, something human.
He wasn’t supposed to feel calm.
Not now.
Not after the Syndicate.
Jaxon’s instincts sharpened instantly.
He scanned the room.
No one else was there.
But he felt eyes on him.
He turned
and found Lena leaning against the doorway, arms crossed gently, watching him with worried eyes. Dark circles shadowed her face from the long night shift.
“You’re awake,” she said softly, relief clear in her voice. “That’s good. I thought you might sleep through half the day.”
Her smile was small but real.
It did something to his chest he didn’t expect.
Jaxon inhaled carefully. “How long?”
“About six hours.” She walked inside, pulling a stool next to him. “You kept muttering in your sleep.”
“Muttering?”
“Mostly just ‘No’ and ‘Run.’”
She hesitated.
“And one time… you said someone’s name.”
Jaxon stiffened. “Whose?”
“Viktor,” she whispered.
He exhaled slowly, jaw tight.
His past was bleeding into the present faster than he’d hoped.
Lena rested her elbows on her knees, speaking gently. “Jaxon… whoever you’re running from, you don’t have to tell me everything. But you should know something.”
She pointed toward the front entrance.
“They were here.”
Jaxon’s heartbeat stopped cold.
“Who?” he asked, voice suddenly dangerous.
“A man in a car,” she said. “He parked across the street, engine off, windows tinted. He stayed for a long time. Just… staring.”
Jaxon cursed under his breath, swinging his legs over the bed despite the pain. His ribs flared, but he forced himself upright. Fear for himself didn’t move him
fear for her did.
“You need to close this clinic,” he said sharply. “You need to leave for a few days. They’ll come back.”
Lena blinked. “Jaxon, slow down. Who are”
“People who don’t forgive,” he cut in. “People who take what they want. People who hurt anyone around me.”
“Why? What did you do?”
His fingers curled painfully against the edge of the bed.
“I walked away.”
The words tasted like smoke and regret.
Lena stepped closer, her voice softer now. “From what?”
“A war,” he said. “Their war.”
She studied him carefully, reading the shadows in his eyes. She didn’t press, but he saw the worry settle on her face like a new bruise.
She opened her mouth to speak
Then the front door bell chimed.
Both of them froze.
The sound echoed through the clinic like a warning shot.
Lena glanced toward the reception area. “It’s probably just a patient.”
Jaxon shook his head immediately. “No. It’s too early. And they wouldn’t come quietly.”
He moved silently to the edge of the wall, ignoring the pain. His instincts sharpened every sound, every breath, every shift of air.
Footsteps.
Slow, deliberate, heavy.
Lena whispered behind him, “Jaxon, you can barely stand”
“I can stand enough.”
The footsteps grew closer.
A tall figure appeared at the front desk. He was dressed in a maintenance uniform, blue coveralls, cap pulled low, toolbox in hand. Normal at a glance.
But Jaxon recognized the way he moved.
Predatory.
Balanced.
Armed.
Not a repairman.
Syndicate.
Jaxon stepped forward, putting his body between Lena and the stranger.
The man noticed him instantly and smiled.
“Well,” he said smoothly, “you’re a hard man to track down, Cross.”
Lena’s breath hitched.
The man continued, lifting his toolbox slightly. “Boss wants you alive. He didn’t say anything about the girl, though.”
Jaxon lunged without thinking.
Pain shot through his ribs, but adrenaline drowned it out. He grabbed the man’s wrist before he could reach inside the toolboxwhere Jaxon knew a weapon was hidden and slammed him into the wall.
The man grunted, then drove a knee into Jaxon’s injured side. Jaxon stumbled, vision flashing white.
The Syndicate scout swung a punch.
Jaxon caught it, twisted, and elbowed the man across the jaw. He felt the c***k and knew it hurt but the scout barely flinched. Trained. Conditioned.
He drew a knife from beneath his sleeve.
Lena gasped.
The man slashed
Jaxon dodged
The blade scraped his shoulder, tearing fresh skin.
He grabbed the man’s arm and twisted sharply.
The knife clattered to the floor.
Jaxon drove his forehead into the man’s nose, breaking it instantly. Blood spurted. The scout snarled and shoved him backward, reaching for the toolbox.
Gun.
Jaxon saw the glint and reacted with pure instinct.
He grabbed the metal stool Lena had used earlier and hurled it across the room.
It smashed into the scout’s arm, sending the gun skidding across the floor and under a cabinet.
Jaxon moved faster than his body allowed and slammed the scout onto the examination table. They struggled, fists flying, elbows striking ribs, breath mixing in sharp bursts of violence.
Jaxon trapped the man in a chokehold.
“Tell Viktor,” he snarled into the man's ear, “that I’m done running.”
The scout clawed at Jaxon’s arm, then went limp as consciousness slipped away.
Jaxon let the body drop to the floor.
Silence filled the clinic again.
Lena stared at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, shock and fear mixing in her eyes.
Jaxon wiped blood from his mouth and steadied himself against the wall.
“This is what I bring with me,” he said, voice low and rough. “This is why you need to get as far away from me as possible.”
But Lena didn’t look away.
She didn’t run.
She stepped closer.
“You protected me,” she whispered. “Even when you could barely stand.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Jaxon growled, breathing hard. “They’ll send more. They won’t stop. Viktor doesn’t lose.”
“Then neither do you,” she said quietly.
Jaxon stared at her.
The simplicity.
The faith.
The courage in her voice.
He wasn’t used to it.
He’d lived in a world where trust got men killed.
Where softness was a luxury.
Where kindness died fast.
Yet here she was
in a clinic lit by a flickering bulb,
standing over an unconscious Syndicate fighter,
looking at him like he wasn’t a weapon,
but a man worth believing in.
He didn’t deserve it.
But he felt it all the same.
Lena swallowed, voice trembling despite her bravery. “Jaxon… what are they going to do now?”
Jaxon exhaled long and dark.
“They’ll take someone,” he said. “Someone I care about. Someone who makes me vulnerable.”
Lena’s eyes widened. “Me.”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Jaxon stepped back, mind racing. “We need to move. You can’t be here. Viktor will escalate.”
Lena hesitated. “Where do we go?”
Jaxon turned toward the shadowed window, jaw tightening.
“To the last place anyone would expect.”
“Where’s that?”
He met her eyes.
“ “
- Writer
