Chapter Eighty-One: The Price of Control
914 Words
-----Axton’s POV-----
He didn’t like this.
Not the road. Not the silence. Not the ache in his chest where Helen’s voice used to sit—soft and sweet, even when she was mad.
Especially when she was mad.
She was mad now. Beyond mad. She was distant. Cold. Turned toward the window like he was nothing more than the engine pulling her to a place he didn’t want her to go.
Her house.
The place Jason had hurt her.
The place where she'd cried herself to sleep.
The place where she didn’t even know he’d watched her from across the street with his fists clenched and his teeth grinding.
But she still called it home.
And she wanted to go back.
“Fine,” he’d said when Morgan pressured him. When the kids looked scared. When Helen refused to meet his eyes.
Fine.
He hated the word. Hated what it tasted like. Like giving up. Like losing ground. Like folding a piece of himself just so he could keep from snapping hers.
But if he pushed harder, she’d shut down completely.
He needed her to trust him again.
He needed her to want him again.
Not just for the baby.
Not just for the girls.
For her.
For them.
---
The street felt like a crime scene.
Even without the blood.
When they pulled up in front of her house, Axton studied the place through the windshield.
It looked good.
Unnaturally good.
He was glad now he’d sent Price and Silas to clean it up the moment they’d recovered her. Replaced the broken furniture. Repainted the wall that had Jason’s blood spray. Steam-cleaned the carpets. Burned the mattress.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it wasn’t a battlefield anymore.
And she wouldn’t have to see it like that.
Helen stepped out slowly.
He followed.
Morgan stayed in the car.
They walked up the path without a word.
Helen unlocked the door.
He stopped at the threshold.
“Helen.”
She paused, her hand on the knob.
“I don’t like this.”
She turned, eyes distant.
“I know.”
“But I’m coming in.”
A faint nod.
He followed her inside.
Everything looked untouched.
Photos. Furniture. Toys.
It still smelled like her.
But it didn’t feel safe.
She walked ahead of him into the kitchen, flicked on the light.
He leaned against the doorway.
“You really want to stay here?”
She busied herself checking the fridge. Tossing spoiled milk. Wiping a counter.
“Yes.”
“You don’t trust me.”
She paused.
“I don’t know what I trust right now.”
That stung more than he expected.
He crossed his arms, tried to shove the rising panic back down.
“I didn’t lie to you,” he said. “I kept things from you. Yeah. But everything I did—everything—was to protect you.”
“By watching me? Manipulating my life? Killing the father of my children?”
He didn’t flinch.
“Yes.”
“Then maybe you didn’t do it for me, Axton. Maybe you did it for you.”
He stepped forward.
“You think I wanted this?”
She met his eyes. “Didn’t you?”
His voice dropped.
“I wanted you safe. I wanted you alive.”
“And now I’m trapped.”
“You’re not—”
“I am. In your world. With your rules. With your truth.”
He stopped. Took a breath.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Helen. I just didn’t know how to love you without ruining you.”
She blinked.
He had never said that out loud before.
Not even to himself.
She sat down at the kitchen table.
“I need time.”
He hated that word too.
It sounded too much like goodbye.
But he nodded.
“Fine.”
She looked at him then. Really looked.
And maybe, just maybe, she saw the part of him that wasn’t a monster.
Just a man.
A man who never learned how to love someone he couldn’t control.
---------------------------
They left the house in silence and walked to the van.
Morgan looked up when the door opened. She didn’t speak.
Axton stepped aside and let Helen climb in first. The girls were still sleeping, curled up under a soft blanket.
Helen’s breath hitched.
She leaned in and gathered them gently in her arms, whispering soft reassurances as they stirred.
Emma blinked, half-asleep. Lily groggily reached for Helen’s shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” Helen whispered.
She stepped out with them, walking slowly up the path toward the house, never looking back.
Morgan started the engine.
Axton got in, closed the door, and pulled out his phone.
“Price.”
“Boss?”
“I want eyes on Helen’s house. Cameras. Motion. Heat sensors. I want a man across the street. I want Lily and Emma tracked whenever they leave. I want a fail-safe system installed by morning.”
“Understood.”
“And make it invisible. She doesn’t need to know.”
“You got it.”
Axton stared out the windshield as the van pulled away.
The light in the front window flicked on.
A silhouette—Helen—moved through the living room with the girls in her arms.
And it didn’t matter that she had asked for time.
Didn’t matter that she didn’t know what she felt anymore.
Because she was his.
And they were home.
Even if he wasn’t there.
Yet.
- Writer
