Chapter Eighty: The Passenger Side
833 Words
-----Morgan’s POV-----
She had sat next to killers, in warzones and under covers. Rode shotgun through cities set to burn and convoys built to bury secrets. But this?
This was the most awkward f*****g car ride of her entire goddamn life.
Axton was behind the wheel, fingers gripping it like it had wronged him personally. Helen sat directly behind him in the backseat, arms crossed, face turned to the window. Her daughters, Lily and Emma, were nestled between her and the cold wall of silence.
Tension didn’t cover it.
The air was thick. Volatile.
Helen didn’t say a word.
Not since she climbed into the van, cleaned up, patched, and silent. She had taken one look at Axton and shut down like a steel door.
Morgan couldn’t blame her.
Not really.
She glanced sideways.
Axton looked calm. His face was stone.
But Morgan knew that face.
That was the face he wore when his hand was hovering over a trigger.
“Where are we going?” Helen asked finally.
Axton’s jaw tightened. “Home.”
Helen’s eyes narrowed. “My home.”
Axton’s hands flexed. “You don’t have a home anymore. You live with me now.”
“Excuse me?”
Morgan sat straighter.
The girls looked between the adults nervously.
“I said,” Axton replied, voice clipped, “you live with me now. That house isn’t safe. It never was.”
“It’s mine. It’s where my memories are. Where my girls have their things. It’s—”
“It’s where Jason beat you,” Axton snapped.
The car went quiet.
Helen’s voice broke. “It’s still mine.”
“You’re carrying my baby.”
Helen froze.
The words hit like a gunshot in a cathedral.
She blinked, her breath hitching. “What?”
Axton didn’t turn around. “You heard me.”
“How do you know?” she whispered.
“I always know what’s mine.”
Morgan winced.
That wasn’t the line, Axton.
“You don’t get to use that like a chain,” Helen hissed.
“It’s not a chain. It’s a fact. You’re mine now. All of you.”
Morgan cleared her throat. Loud.
“Hey. Maybe we tone it down. Kids in the car, remember?”
Axton didn’t reply.
Lily and Emma sat frozen. Lily was clinging to her sister like a life raft.
Morgan turned in her seat.
“Girls,” she said gently, “how about I teach you a secret handshake?”
That got their attention.
Lily blinked. “A secret one?”
“The best kind,” Morgan said. “Navy-grade.”
Axton’s voice was a low growl beside her. “Morgan.”
“Back off,” she said, without turning.
She took Emma’s tiny hand in hers.
One tap.
Two knuckle bumps.
A twist.
A tickle.
Both girls giggled.
Helen finally exhaled.
Morgan turned back to Axton.
“You need to let her go back.”
“No.”
“She needs closure.”
“She needs safety.”
“She needs agency, Creed. You didn’t rescue a pet. You rescued a person. If you want her to stay, she has to choose to.”
He said nothing.
But the wheel creaked beneath his grip.
“Please,” Morgan added softly. “For her. For the girls.”
After a long moment, Axton exhaled.
“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”
“Welcome to parenting,” she muttered.
That earned her a grunt.
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Two hours later, they stopped outside Helen’s house.
Morgan stayed in the car with the girls while Axton and Helen went inside.
She didn’t want to hear them argue.
She didn’t want to see Helen cry again.
She wanted to sit here, quietly, with these two kids curled up beside her like she was something safe.
Emma had fallen asleep.
Lily was dozing.
Morgan stroked Emma’s hair.
It surprised her how good it felt.
She had always wondered if she’d be a good mom.
Life never let her try.
There was always another mission. Another mess. Another black file that needed burning.
She hadn’t dated in years. Flings? Sure. But nothing stayed. Nothing fit.
Except maybe—
No.
She shook her head.
Rourke.
Stupid, she told herself. He’s like your brother.
But he wasn’t. Not really.
He made her laugh. Genuinely laugh. Not the forced snorts she used to end conversations.
He brought her coffee before she asked. Knew when she needed silence. Let her rant without judgment.
And his smile?
She sighed.
She had memorized that smile.
It felt like firelight.
And right now, with two little girls leaning against her chest, she wondered what it might feel like to stop running.
To have a home.
A real one.
Even if just for a while.
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Helen came back out eventually.
She looked pale. A little shaken.
But calmer.
Axton followed her. His face unreadable.
Morgan met his eyes.
He gave the faintest nod.
And for now…
That would have to be enough.
- Writer
