Chapter Ninety-One: The Ones Who Stay
783 Words
-----Price’s POV-----
Clean-up was never glorious.
It was bleach. Buckets. Gloves that didn’t fit quite right. The smell of blood under your nails no matter how many times you washed your hands.
Price was quiet through it all.
He always was.
Silas cracked a joke when they moved the body. Rourke gave a grim half-smile. Morgan said nothing, her eyes unreadable. And Axton—Axton was a storm contained in skin, methodical and simmering.
Price didn’t speak. He scrubbed, bagged, hauled, burned.
When it was over, when the concrete was stained only with shadows and silence, they stood in the lot under a bruised sky.
Two cars.
One with Silas, Price, and Axton.
The other with Rourke behind the wheel, Morgan in the passenger seat.
Price caught Rourke glancing over before he offered casually, “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”
Morgan didn’t argue.
Didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
Just got in.
Price snorted under his breath.
Axton raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing.” Price smirked. “Just watching something inevitable start to unfold.”
“What—Rourke and Morgan?”
He shrugged. “You’re the profiler. You tell me.”
Axton grunted, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward.
They climbed into the truck. Silas rode shotgun. Price took the wheel.
The ride was quiet for a while.
Silas eventually kicked off his boots and leaned back with a sigh.
“Wife’s gonna kill me. I promised I’d be home by midnight.”
“You’ll be home by one,” Price said. “She’ll forgive you. You’ve got that whipped-dog look she likes.”
Silas laughed. “That’s not whipped. That’s called mutual submission.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
They pulled up outside Silas’s place. It was modest. Clean. The porch light was on.
She was waiting.
Silas grinned. “Told you. She always leaves the light.”
“Go,” Price said.
Silas leaned back in and tapped the dash. “You boys drive safe. And Axton—” he paused, voice softening, “she’ll come around. She just needs time.”
Axton nodded once.
Price didn’t pull away until Silas had stepped inside, the door closed behind him like punctuation.
Then it was just them.
He didn’t say anything at first.
He let the road hum beneath them.
Until Axton finally spoke.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Price’s hands didn’t flinch on the wheel.
“With Helen?”
Axton exhaled through his nose. “She’s everything. She’s... she’s it, man. And now I’ve told her the truth. And she’s walking around like I’m this walking red flag. Which I am. But still.”
“You didn’t expect her to take it well, did you?”
“No. But I didn’t expect her to look at me like I’m a stranger.”
“She’s not looking at you like a stranger.”
“She’s looking at me like she doesn’t know what’s real anymore.”
“Because she doesn’t. You followed her. Protected her. Controlled the narrative. She’s trying to rewrite it now—her way.”
Axton scrubbed a hand down his face.
“I love her. I love the kids. I want to build something real. And I don’t know how to be that guy.”
Price turned down the next street. Let the silence stretch just enough.
“You don’t have to be perfect, Creed. You just have to be present.”
“What if she doesn’t want that?”
“Then you wait. And you show her you’re not just the man who watched from the shadows. You’re the man who stays.”
Axton looked out the window.
“She’s pregnant.”
“I know.”
“You think I’m gonna be a good dad?”
Price didn’t answer right away.
Then he said, “I think you’re already trying. That’s more than most ever do.”
They pulled up outside Axton’s house.
The lights were off. The wind had kicked up. But it was still.
Safe.
“You need anything,” Price said, “you call.”
Axton nodded. “Thanks.”
He didn’t get out right away.
Price waited.
Finally, Axton said, “Did you ever love anyone, Price?”
Price stared ahead.
“Once. She’s long gone.”
“You regret it?”
“I regret not telling her sooner.”
Axton nodded.
“Don’t make my mistake,” Price added.
Axton stepped out, shut the door.
Price drove away, headlights cutting through the dark.
And for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe—just maybe—some of them would make it out of this alive.
- Writer
