In The Dark

Chapter Three: The Bar and the Blue

Desire doesn’t ask permission. It sneaks in, quiet and undeniable.

Jaxon told himself he wouldn’t go.

He had no reason to. Eli was a threat, a complication, a reminder of everything Jaxon had spent years burying. The flash drive, the video, Camille’s voice—it should’ve been enough to send him running in the opposite direction.

But the truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about Eli. His words. His anger. The way he looked at Jaxon like he saw through the bullshit and into the hollow parts he kept hidden from everyone else.

So at exactly 9:06 PM, Jaxon walked into the dimly lit bar in Midtown.

It smelled like old whiskey and new secrets. A jazz band played low in the corner, the notes haunting, seductive. People spoke in murmurs. Shadows clung to the edges of the room.

Eli was already there.

Sitting at the bar, sipping bourbon, leather jacket half-off his shoulders like an invitation and a warning all at once.

“You showed,” he said without looking.

“I had questions.”

“You always do. That’s your problem.”

Jaxon took the stool beside him. A drink appeared—he hadn’t ordered, but Eli had. Like he already knew Jaxon would come.

“I looked into the man in that video,” Jaxon said quietly. “The one threatening Camille. He worked for a shell company I once negotiated with. Arms-length. I never knew her name came up.”

Eli took a slow sip. “Convenient.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Truth’s never that simple,” Eli muttered. “Camille thought she could get out. That video… she was trying to warn someone. Someone she trusted.”

“I wasn’t that person,” Jaxon said, sharper than he meant to.

“No,” Eli said. “But maybe you were supposed to be.”

Silence pulsed between them.

Jaxon studied the man beside him. The tight line of Eli’s jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the weight of grief that hadn’t faded even after all this time. It hit Jaxon like a punch—how much he wanted to take that pain from him.

Not because of guilt.

Because he cared.

And that scared the hell out of him.

“I didn’t mean for her to die,” Jaxon said. “You think I don’t replay that night in my head every time I close my eyes?”

Eli’s fingers flexed around his glass. “Then do something about it. Help me finish what she started.”

“And what exactly is that?”

Eli pulled a phone from his pocket, slid it across the bar. It was open to a photo: a black car, bullet holes in the passenger door, blood spattered on the hood.

“She wasn’t the only one who got too close,” he said. “Three months ago, another whistleblower tried to come forward. They silenced her.”

Jaxon’s stomach turned. “You think it’s the same people?”

“I know it is. And you’re the only one who can still get close to them.”

Jaxon pushed the phone back. “That world—those people—they don’t trust me anymore.”

“They don’t have to,” Eli said. “They just have to believe you want in.”

It was insane. Reckless. And yet, somewhere inside him, a door creaked open.

“I need time,” Jaxon muttered.

Eli nodded once. “Take it. But don’t take too long. They’re already watching you.”

Jaxon froze. “What do you mean?”

Eli pulled a crumpled photo from his jacket and laid it on the bar. It was Jaxon—leaving his office, two days ago. Blurry, but unmistakable.

“Someone’s keeping tabs on you,” Eli said. “And if I found this, so can they.”

Jaxon stared at the image. His world was shifting again. But this time, it wasn’t just his past unraveling—it was his future being rewritten by someone else's hands.

Eli downed the rest of his drink and stood.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. Then paused, gaze lingering on Jaxon’s. “And for what it’s worth… I don’t care who you think you are. Straight, gay, confused—I just care that you’re not lying to yourself.”

Jaxon didn’t answer.

Because the lie had been his whole life.

And now, sitting in this bar with the memory of Eli’s voice echoing through him, he wasn’t sure what the truth was anymore.

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Cliffhanger Ending:

Back in his apartment that night, Jaxon found another envelope beneath his door. No name. No return address. Just a single photo inside:

Camille… and Jaxon… and a third man with his face blacked out.

And a note:

“You were never just a witness.”

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