Chapter Two: The Flash Drive
707 Words
Some truths are sharp enough to cut the lies we wear like armor.
Jaxon didn’t sleep.
He sat on the edge of his bed, the unopened flash drive burning a hole in his palm. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow from the city beyond his window. Luxury walls, expensive furniture, none of it could distract him from the name echoing in his head.
Camille.
And Eli—her kid brother. No longer a kid. Now a man with a quiet fury in his voice and a smirk that crawled under Jaxon’s skin.
It had been years. He’d buried that night deep enough to forget. Or so he thought.
He slid the flash drive into his laptop. The screen flickered, loaded files. A folder labeled “C - Final.” Inside: photos. Messages. A video.
Jaxon clicked on the video.
The screen showed Camille, her voice sharp and fast, filmed in secret. She was arguing with someone—someone Jaxon didn’t recognize. Something about blackmail. A deal gone wrong. A voice in the background: male, calm, threatening.
“You don’t get to walk away from this,” it said.
Jaxon’s blood ran cold.
He paused the video. Played it again. Slower. Enhanced the audio. There it was—barely audible.
His name.
“I don’t care what Jaxon Reid promised you. He can’t protect you from this.”
He slammed the laptop shut.
It wasn’t just an accident. Camille had been involved in something dangerous—something he should’ve seen, should’ve stopped. And now Eli had the evidence.
The knock at the door was sharp, urgent.
He flinched. Stared at it.
Then it opened—without a knock this time. Eli stepped inside, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, like he belonged there.
“You watched it?” he asked.
Jaxon stood. “How did you get in here?”
Eli shrugged. “I asked the doorman nicely. You’d be surprised what a smile and twenty bucks can do.”
“You can’t just barge into people’s homes.”
“You’re one to talk about boundaries.”
Jaxon didn’t answer. His pulse was still racing. “Why show me this? Why now?”
“Because I’ve spent five years trying to find the people who left her to die. And every time I follow a thread, it leads back to you.”
Jaxon stepped forward. “I didn’t kill her.”
“No. But you didn’t save her either.”
That landed hard. Too hard.
“I didn’t know she was in trouble.”
“Bullshit,” Eli said, voice sharp. “You knew. You just didn’t want to see it.”
They stared at each other, the silence alive between them. Jaxon didn’t want to admit how closely he was studying Eli’s face—or how it made him feel.
It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Eli was just a guy. A threat. A ghost from his past.
But standing there, eyes full of fury and pain and something deeper—Jaxon felt that tug again. That unfamiliar, terrifying pull.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he said quietly.
Eli tilted his head. “Then who are you?”
Jaxon hesitated. “I’m straight.”
Eli’s expression didn’t change. “That’s not what I asked.”
The air between them thickened. Jaxon stepped back. His world tilted for a second, then steadied with a lie.
“Whatever this is, it’s not happening.”
“Good,” Eli said. “Because I’m not here for you. I’m here for the truth. And if you think you can charm your way out of this, Reid—you’re dead wrong.”
He turned to leave.
But at the door, he stopped. Glanced back.
“You still drink bourbon?”
Jaxon blinked. “What?”
“There’s a bar in Midtown. The bartender owes me a favor. Be there tomorrow night. Or don’t. But you should know—this goes deeper than Camille. And the people involved? They remember you.”
The door shut behind him.
Jaxon stared at it, breath ragged. He was straight. He was sure. But the truth was cracking at the seams.
And the past was coming for him, fast.
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- Writer
