Chapter Two-hundred Fifty-Four: Kickstart the Dragon's Heart

Chapter 254

Kickstart the Dragon’s Heart

In his bedroom, Ichiro stood before the long mirror, dressed in a sharp black, double-breasted Italian-cut suit, a crisp red shirt, a black tie, and black socks. After smoothing out the jacket's lapels, he picked up a bottle of Clive Christian No. 1 for men and spritzed the fragrance onto his neck and wrists.

He then ran his fingers through his red-black hair, adjusting a stray lock that had fallen out of place, and checked his reflection one last time to ensure everything was perfect.

Admiring him from the doorway, Ruby stood in her maid’s dress. Inhaling deeply, she pursed her lips.

Ruby: “You look amazing, Ichiro.”

She said breathlessly as her heart fluttered seeing him before her. Ichiro didn’t look at her.

Ichiro: “I know.”

He replied tersely.

Ruby hesitated for a moment to speak. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She then stepped forward.

Ruby: “I wish you would take me out to dinner.”

She blurted. Ichiro paused and turned to her, gaping at her.

Ichiro: “...Do you have intel to break Fabien, Ruby?”

He asked sharply. Ruby bowed her head and shook it.

Ichiro: “Do you think I want to go on this date with this harridan who has the sex appeal of a 98-year-old teacher?”

He rolled his eyes.

Ichiro: “I don’t, but I want to break Fabien more than anything in this world.”

He gritted his teeth.

He marched past her. She inhaled his cologne, which was an ultra-luxurious, warm, creamy sandalwood laced with soft spice, fine leather, powdery florals, and a hint of dark vanilla. She followed him down the stairs and to his door.

He sat down on a mahogany bench near the entrance and slid his feet into his polished black cap-toe Oxfords. He leaned over, tying the laces with practiced precision, the leather creaking slightly under his touch. Standing up, he tested the fit with a single firm step.

Ichiro: “I hope I will be back tonight.”

With a final, sharp nod, Ichiro walked out the front door. He stepped into his sleek black Porsche 959, the engine roaring to life with a powerful, refined growl. Without looking back, he shifted into gear and drove away, the car disappearing down the winding driveway.

~

Sitting cross-legged and barefoot on his computer chair, Fabien scrolled through the messages on his Bungle server. He was dressed in a Rush tank top beneath a denim jacket, paired with jeans. From behind, Celeste wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face into his neck, kissing it. She wore a denim skirt and a white tiger stripe top that exposed her tummy, and like him, she was barefoot.

Fabien shivered at her soft kisses and leaned into her head.

BlairDonati: Since I exposed Jordi as a caf, it’s only a matter of time before Ashley moves in with me because I am their true prince!

Fabien laughed and reached out to type.

SeigneurMonstre: Caf? What is that?

BlairDonati: A man who chases women and wants to date lots of women at the same time! A good friend of mine got pictures of Jordi with this dumb fatty!

Fabien threw his head back and laughed.

SeigneurMonstre: You mean casanova!

BlairDonati: Anyway, Vanessa said to stock up on pads since they use them, so I bought these pads.

Fabien: “You’re welcome for pulling you up on that, Blair.”

He said dryly and looked at the picture Blair attached, which was of his hand holding a bag of make-up pads. Fabien snorted.

BlairDonati: She said that’s not what she meant. What did you mean then, dummy?!

DeimosK: You’d be lucky to lose your virginity to a dead camel, you dumb fuck.

BlairDonati: Oh yeah, like you’d know, Deimos! You don’t date girls or like them!

DeimosK: I don’t need to like girls to know Ashley would never fucking date you. No girl will ever, in fact.

BlairDonati: Ashley not dating me?! I don’t want that to happen! We can’t let that happen! I’m going to go crazy one of these days… Brumm brumm brumm brummmmmm Ding ding!

Fabien howled with laughter and slapped his thighs hard.

Celeste: “Why did he get make-up pads? They don’t wear make-up?”

She tilted her head.

Fabien: “His cousin told him to get her pads for her period, and he got her make-up pads because he’s fucking dumb!”

He cackled. Celeste noticed Blair said he took pictures of Jordi with another woman and twisted her mouth.

Celeste: “I knew it.”

She muttered. Fabien turned to her.

Fabien: “Knew what, mon chaton?”

He asked softly, snaking his arm around her and kissing her tummy. Celeste giggled.

She raked her hair through his soft, white tresses.

Celeste: “I think Jordi gave that speech to them about not wanting to date ‘cause he didn’t want to date them. I never saw him as being super into them. I always thought Jordi saw them as just a friend. He should have kept it that way.”

She explained. Fabien looked up at her with his green eyes.

Fabien: “I never understood why Jordi jumped from person to person, but understood it less when he did that Ashley girl. She’s more into him than he’s into her, and Jordi… tends to like to chase.”

He stated.

~

Ichiro pulled up to a charming, two-story single-family home. The house was Craftsman-style, with a prominent gable roof, mixed siding materials, and a deep front porch. The upper level and gable were covered in blue-gray cedar shingle siding, while the lower portion of the house and porch supports were accented with stone veneer.

Two thick white columns set on stone bases supported the covered front porch. The porch had a built-in window box and was lit by interior lights, highlighting the large, multi-pane windows and the front door. The main entrance featured a natural-wood door with glass panels adorned with a simple wreath, adding a welcoming touch.

A wide, well-maintained stone paver walkway led directly from the foreground to the front steps.

The landscaping was mature and lush, with neatly trimmed boxwood shrubs, small flowering plants, and a well-kept lawn on either side of the path. In the driveway, there was a white 1985 Chevrolet Cavalier.

Pamela came out of her house dressed in a little black dress and black heels. Her hair was loose, cascading slightly past her shoulders. On her ears, she wore dangling crystal earrings, and in her hand, a small leather handbag. Ichiro gawked at her. My God, she looks less like she’s dressed for a dinner date and more like she’s dressed for a parent-teacher meeting for Yohei, he thought. Even Tristan’s lazy, slacker boyfriend has more style, he thought.

Ichiro stepped out of the car and opened the passenger’s door for her. Pamela reddened and smiled.

Pamela: “Thank you.”

She said softly.

Ichiro: “Pleasure is mine.”

Pamela slid into the seat, closing the door with a quiet click. Ichiro walked around the front of his sleek Porsche 959, the paint gleaming under the street light. He slipped into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking slightly as he settled in. Without a word, he engaged the clutch, his hand wrapping firmly around the shifter as he slotted it into first gear. The engine roared to life with a refined growl, and he pulled away from the curb, the car disappearing down the street.

~

Jaxon’s 1985 Toyota Celica Convertible pulled up to Jordi’s house. He wore a red sports jacket with a snakeskin pattern, a black button-down shirt, black leather pants, and black Chelsea boots. He had his Ray-Bans over his eyes and a cigarette between his fingers on the steering wheel.

Jaxon reached for the ignition, twisting the key to shut off the engine, which sputtered into silence. He took one final, deep drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing brightly in the dim light of the car’s interior, before crushing the stub out in the overflowing ashtray. Exiting the Toyota Celica, he closed the door with a muted thud and moved quietly toward the house. With practiced ease, he climbed through the open window into Lena’s room.

He saw her lying in her bed, resembling Sleeping Beauty. He rested his Ray-Bans on his head, sat on her bed, and extended his hands out as a red glow emitted from them. Lena inhaled as he healed her and turned over. Jaxon watched her for a moment and smiled sadly.

He rose from her bed. The doorknob twisted open, and Jordi entered. He wore a yellow button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, jeans, and sheer socks.

Jordi: “What are you doing in here?!”

Jaxon: “Healing her!”

He whispered hoarsely and walked past him. Jordi followed him.

When Jaxon stepped outside, Jordi slid his feet into his zip-up boots and zipped them up. The two men stepped out onto the lawn.

Jordi: “I doubt it! I think you had other things in mind. Why are you coming here now?”

He asked sharply.

Jaxon: “Because I had to, and Deimos is busy with Tristan!”

He threw his arms up.

Jordi: “Why was she unconscious?!”

He asked firmly. Jaxon looked away.

He then locked his gaze on Jordi.

Jaxon: “I saw Blair’s tantrum on Fabien’s server.”

Jordi rolled his eyes.

Jordi: “I don’t keep up with the nonsensical rantings of Blair Donati.”

Jaxon smirked.

Jaxon: “Maybe you should.”

He inched closer.

Jaxon: “He told everyone on there his ‘good friend’ took pictures of you and some fat chick at the Donati Tower.”

He stated with a grin. Jordi looked away.

Jordi: “...Yes, Blair confronted me on that, as did Ashley.”

Jaxon: “Look, man, you can hate me all you want, but if you didn’t want to date her, why did you lead her on?”

He challenged.

Jordi: “Because it was a mistake! We were fine as friends, but they took my gestures the wrong way!”

He snapped.

Jaxon: “So why didn’t you tell her that then?!”

He fired back. Jordi glared at him and bared his teeth.

Jordi: “You are the last person to be preaching that to me.”

He rasped.

Jaxon: “That was THEN, my guy! I am not doing it now! You are, though!”

He hollered.

Jordi: “What do you care, Jaxon?! Why do THEY care?! I had dinner with someone, and they’re upset about that?! It didn’t progress further, but it seems like they’re looking for an excuse to be hurt by me?!”

He said, hurt and frustrated.

Jordi: “I WISH I TOLD THEM THAT!”

He blurted.

Jordi: “I valued their friendship, and because I allowed my loneliness to override that, I fucked it up!”

He screamed.

Jordi: “And they were so gung-ho about Lazaros until he didn’t want them to work for an ice cream shop! Now they want me?! Now I’m the bad guy?!”

He laughed bitterly.

Vasilos marched up to them.

Vasilos: “Oh, Jordi, you’re more than the bad guy. You’re going to be charred.”

Jordi turned to Vasilos angrily.

Jordi: “Vasilos, not now, okay?! You won! I left! Now you never have to see me again!”

He bellowed. Vasilos glared at him with fury in his eyes.

Vasilos: “And I NEVER WILL!”

Magenta and violet fire formed in the palms of his hands. Jordi’s face turned ashen when he saw those.

Jordi: “Oh, shit!”

Vasilos threw the fireballs at him. Jordi grabbed Jaxon and jumped out of the way as the fireballs hit the neighbor’s lawn.

The grass erupted into flames, a bright magenta inferno quickly consuming the manicured turf. Heat radiated intensely, forcing Jordi and Jaxon back as thick, acrid smoke curled into the night air. Sparks showered upward like fireworks gone wrong, licking at the edges of the nearby fence. Vasilos stood amidst the chaos, his expression cold and unyielding as the fire crackled and hissed, casting long, dancing shadows against the house walls.

Vasilos shot his hands out. Flame arrows formed in the air and crashed down toward Jaxon and Jordi.

Jordi’s eyes widened as the searing arrows whistled through the air, their heat singeing the atmosphere around them. Without a second thought, he lunged toward Jaxon, scooping him into his arms, the first wave of arrows slamming into the ground where they had stood a heartbeat before.

Jordi: “FUCK!”

He screamed over the roar of the flames, his boots skidding on the pavement as he pivoted to avoid another projectile. He kept his grip tight on Jaxon, carrying him through a series of frantic, jagged maneuvers to stay ahead of the barrage. Each arrow that missed erupted in a violent burst of sparks, the light reflecting off Jordi’s panicked, sweat-streaked face as he struggled to find an exit from the literal line of fire.

Jaxon clung to Jordi and screamed when Vasilos threw another fireball.

The fireball struck the ground near them, sending a wave of searing heat and debris flying outward. A spray of liquid fire splashed onto Jordi’s leg, the fabric of his jeans instantly smoldering. Jordi cried out, stumbling backward and frantically batting at the flames with his hands, smothering them until the last of the glowing embers died out, leaving the smell of scorched denim and burnt skin in the air.

Gritting his teeth through the pain, he collapsed onto the lawn, clutching his singed leg. Jaxon, steadying himself, dropped to his knees beside him, his expression hardening. He pressed his palms against the angry, red burns on Jordi's leg. A soft, warm, crimson glow pulsed from Jaxon’s hands, and the charred skin began to knit together, the pain fading as the burns vanished beneath his touch.

Vasilos marched toward the two as fire danced on his palms.

Vasilos: “Isn’t this just sweet? Jordi finds another lover, but he’s not a landwhale.”

He cackled.

With a smirk, Vasilos crossed his forearms, linking his wrists together. Suddenly, vibrant flashes of violet and magenta fire burst forth from his hands. He spread his arms out as a wave of flames shot out at Jordi and Jaxon.

Jaxon shrieked. In a flash, Jordi scooped Jaxon into his arms once more and surged upward, his muscles straining as he leaped clear of the roiling wave of flames. They sailed through the air, the heat licking at their heels, before Jordi landed firmly on the pavement, his chest heaving as the inferno roared harmlessly past them. Jaxon clung to him and panted. Jordi bared his teeth at Vasilos. The intense heat seared his chest, making him flinch in agony.

Jordi: “I will fucking KILL YOU, VASILOS!”

He roared. Vasilos threw his head back and laughed.

He slashed his hand through the air and a blade of magenta flames sliced through the trunk of the oak tree in front of Jordi’s house. Jaxon screamed as the tree came down toward them.

Reacting instantly, Jordi carried Jaxon in his arms and dove out of the way. The massive trunk slammed into the ground with a bone-jarring thud, sending a shower of wood chips and debris spraying into the air. He scrambled to his feet, both men breathless and covered in dust, barely having escaped the crushing weight of the oak.

Vasilos: “OOHH, JOOOORDI!”

He sang.

Jordi’s eyes narrowed into slits, his breathing hitching in his chest as the taunt hit him like a physical blow. A raw, volatile power surged within him, a dark energy that crackled through his veins. The fear that had kept him moving was gone, incinerated by a white-hot fury that eclipsed every survival instinct he possessed. With a guttural growl, he braced his feet against the pavement, preparing to charge Vasilos.

He placed Jaxon down and stood in front of him. He shot his hands out at Vasilos, creating a bolt of purple lightning that came crashing down with a mighty force.

The bolt surged through the air with an electric hum, slamming directly into Vasilos with a blinding crack of violet light. The force of the impact lifted him off his feet, sending him skidding backward across the cracked pavement. Smoke hissed from his singed clothes as he struggled to regain his footing, his arrogant expression replaced by a look of unbridled anger.

As Vasilos advanced, Jordi steeled himself for the next assault, violet electrical currents pulsing through his body.

Suddenly, Vasilos fell forward and collapsed on the ground, passing out. Jordi and Jaxon gaped at him. The two men looked around and saw Lena was still asleep.

Jaxon: “Did he…?”

Jordi glared down at him.

Jordi: “As usual, Vasilos bites off more than he can chew.”

Jordi drew a long breath.

Jordi: “When most people first become one of us… Etheressums… Their bodies have to get used to using their powers, so you start small and gradually work your way up.”

He explained. Jaxon gazed at him.

Jaxon: “Never happened to me.”

Jordi: “I also electrocuted him, so that was the shove he needed.”

He clicked his tongue.

Tearing off his scorched shirt, Jordi tossed it onto the lawn. Jaxon noticed the red burn marks covering Jordi's chest. Stepping closer, Jaxon pressed his palms against the burned skin. A gentle, warm, crimson radiance began to pulse from Jaxon’s hands. Under his touch, the charred flesh started to mend, and the pain receded as the burns completely disappeared.

Jordi gazed at Jaxon’s hands on his chest and then locked his gaze on him. For a suspended heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them. Amidst the flickering, dying tongues of fire that still danced across the lawn, casting shifting light and shadow against their faces, their eyes met. The chaos of the battle faded into the background, leaving only the charged, silent tension of the moment as they held each other’s gaze.

The last flickers of magenta flame sputtered and finally died, leaving the yard in a heavy, smoke-filled silence. As the glow vanished, Jordi reached up and clasped Jaxon’s hands, refusing to let go. He kept his eyes locked on Jaxon. Jaxon gazed at Jordi’s hands on his and slowly raised them to look into his byzantine eyes.

Jordi tilted Jaxon’s chin upward, his thumb tracing the line of his jaw with a lingering, desperate tenderness. He leaned down, his breath hitching, until his lips finally crashed against Jaxon’s in a searing, long-awaited kiss. It was a collision of relief and raw hunger, a silent confession that cut through the lingering scent of smoke.

Jaxon responded instantly, his fingers tangling into the soft purple tresses at the back of Jordi’s neck, pulling him closer as if trying to anchor himself in the midst of the cooling ruins. In that moment, the bitterness of the night and the weight of their complicated past dissolved, replaced by a fierce, pulsing heat that made the rest of the world feel like nothing more than ash.

His hand resting on the small of Jaxon’s back, Jordi pulled him even closer and let out a soft moan in his mouth.

Suddenly, Cedar teleported onto his lawn. Jordi and Jaxon broke the kiss as he held Jaxon protectively in his arms. Cedar gaped at them and surveyed the destruction before locking his gaze on Vasilos.

Cedar: “A vial of ehtytrim went missing. Security footage showed Vasilos taking it.”

He told Jordi.

Cedar: “You two… do your thing. I will return Vasilos home and clean this up.”

He sighed dejectedly. Jordi gazed at Cedar. They don’t pay him enough to put up with what he does, he thought.

~

Jordi opened Lena’s door to check in on her. He smiled when she saw she was asleep. He quietly closed the door for her. She’ll be safe here with Ashley, he thought.

He threw on a white western shirt, slid his arms in, and buttoned it up. He grabbed a duffel bag, stepped outside, and locked his door. He looked around, shocked that the tree was gone and the debris cleaned up as if Vasilos never came. Jaxon waited for him in the driver’s seat of his car. He had his Ray-Bans on. Jordi got in the passenger’s side.

Jaxon turned the key in the ignition, the 1985 Toyota Celica’s engine humming to life with a steady vibration. He reached out to flick the car stereo on, filling the car with the aggressive, driving riffs of Japanese heavy metal.

Pulling a Zippo from his pocket, he struck it, the flame flaring briefly as he lit a cigarette. With the ember glowing, he depressed the clutch pedal and wrapped his hand around the shifter, the knob firm in his grip, slotting it into first gear with a satisfying mechanical click. With a confident press of the accelerator, he eased the convertible away from the curb, and they pulled onto the road, disappearing into the night.

~

Tristan stood out on his balcony, his white hair catching the warm breeze as he smoked a cigarette in his silver silk dressing gown. His mind raced with a flurry of thoughts following the revelation Narcisse had shared with him. Everything was beginning to make sense—Charlotte forcing him to wield his ice powers and abusing him under the pretense that he wasn’t “strong enough.”

He recalled she would disappear for years only to return to commence the cycle of abuse once more. This resumed until Tristan unleashed his icy fury on her. He knew Deimos and Celeste had seen her in that hyperbaric chamber. This is on me for denying what was in there until I was forced to face it, he thought with a bitter laugh.

The smoke curled from his lips, spiraling into the night air like the ghostly remnants of a childhood he’d never truly possessed. He stared out into the darkness, but his mind remained trapped where Charlotte had systematically broken him down and rebuilt him with frost and resentment. It wasn’t just the physical abuse; it was the manipulation disguised as “training” that cut the deepest. Narcisse’s revelation was the final puzzle piece, making the betrayal worse.

He ground the cigarette out against the stone railing, his eyes hardening as he turned away from the void.

She calls me weak but fails to remember who put her in that goddamn tube she stayed in for fifteen years, he thought. If I had just…, he thought as he clenched his fist tightly. His jaw tightened as tears welled in his eyes.

If I had confronted what Deimos told me about it, I would have killed it dead, he thought as tears of anger burned in his eyes. That thing needed Jaxon to walk on Reona once more, but the next time I unleash my full power, Jaxon won’t be able to fix it—I will ensure that never happens, he thought angrily.

The glass doors opened, and Deimos stepped out wearing a gray tank top and dark plaid pajama pants.

Deimos: “Hey, my prince.”

Tristan: “Hello, Deimos.”

He sighed. Deimos embraced him from behind, burying his face into his snowy white hair and inhaling his sweet scent.

Tristan: “I lost a dear friend; that fucking bitch is walking this Reona, and I found out I was bred to be a human weapon. I don’t want to be asked how I feel.”

He said bitterly.

Deimos: “Tristan, I get it. When…”

He sighed.

Deimos: “When Diamantina died, and Dad and Mom blamed Lazaros and me, I hated it when people asked how I was doing. I wasn’t doing okay. I didn’t know what I needed… To be told it wasn’t my fault? To be held? To get a mother’s love? Monica did that. My own mother didn’t. She sat on her fat duff feeling sorry for herself and eating.”

He huffed. Tristan’s eyelids dipped. He didn’t see the correlation but appreciated that Deimos was trying to relate.

Tristan: “We both had terrible mothers… or you did. I thought I did until Narcisse blackmailed Jaxon into reviving it.”

He said scathingly.

Deimos: “Are you mad at Jaxon?”

Tristan shook his head.

Tristan: “Why would I be? Even if the guilt of Seashell Cove didn’t weigh on his conscience, he doesn’t want to be responsible for Lena’s death… or ours.”

He turned around to face Deimos.

Tristan: “This is my fault, Deimos. You told me what you and Celeste saw. I chose not to face it due to my intense fear, and I am paying the price.”

He said gravely.

Deimos knitted his eyebrows. His calloused hands gently held Tristan’s soft, slender hands. He kissed them.

Deimos: “It’s not your fault, Tristan. I didn’t face that nursery for almost two decades… so I understand.”

Gazing down at his shorter boyfriend, Tristan’s eyes grew wide. Hearing Deimos speak those words filled him with a profound sense of validation.

Tristan smiled slightly, a rare sight after days of solemnity. Seeing this expression filled Deimos with a deep sense of warmth. Even with Tristan’s cryokinesis, he possessed a unique ability to warm Deimos completely, both inside and out.

Deimos welcomed the kiss as Tristan leaned in and placed his mouth on his, his rough hands grazing over Tristan’s slender arms against the silk robe.

~

Upon arriving at Jaxon’s house, Jordi showered, undressed, and changed into his black silk pajamas. Jaxon emerged from the shower wearing a red silk dragon robe and dried his damp hair with a towel. Jordi climbed into bed, and Jaxon got in right next to him, resting his head on Jordi’s chest and wrapping an arm around him.

Jordi: “I checked on Lena. She will be fine with Ashley in the house.”

He murmured. Jaxon scowled.

Jaxon: “Still have that fat bitch living with you?”

He grumbled.

Jordi: “Just as friends… I guess? They were upset I had dinner with Mattie.”

He replied, kissing his head. Jaxon closed his eyes and smiled.

Jaxon: “Yeah, that… was all over Fabien’s server along with Blair’s tantrum.”

He laughed. Jordi grimaced.

Jordi: “...I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Blair is Demetrio’s grandson, so the employees will have to kiss his ass.”

He said wryly.

Jordi: “And I quit my job working for Minerva to be Demetrio’s assistant.”

Jaxon: “Which means you have to suck up to Blair, too.”

He pressed his forefinger on his nose. Jordi laughed a bit.

Jordi: “Out of the frying pan, into the fire.”

He muttered.

Jaxon: “So why was she upset about dinner with Mattie? Nothing happened, right?”

Jordi shook his head.

Jordi: “Just my paycheck being depleted, and not on a meal I really wanted.”

He laughed a hollow laugh as he traced his fingertips over Jaxon’s shoulder.

Jordi: “Nothing happened, but Ashley looked for some excuse to be hurt with me. I think they’re taking the break-up hard.”

He paused.

Jordi: “I don’t blame them. This is on me for not controlling my urges. We had a good friendship, and I fucked it up.”

He grimaced.

Jaxon: “...I hear you on friendships being ruined. It’s all I seem to do.”

He smiled sadly.

Jaxon thought about the chaotic night—the fire, the fight, and the terrifying realization of how close he’d come to losing everything. It was strange, he mused, how amidst all the destruction and the baggage they both carried, he felt a calm he hadn’t known in years. He wondered if this was finally the moment where the cycle of his past mistakes would end, or if he was just drifting into a different kind of trouble.

He nestled into Jordi’s embrace, somehow feeling this was right, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Jordi put his arms around Jaxon.

Jaxon: “Do you believe in fate?”

Jordi: “I’m not sure. I tend to be realistic.”

Jordi lay still, the ceiling fan lazily cutting through the quiet air. The adrenaline of the battle—the fire, the near-misses, and that reckless, desperate kiss. He realized how close he’d come to losing everything tonight, not just his life, but the fragile sense of peace he was only just beginning to grasp. For years, he’d been drowning in his own poor choices and the suffocating expectations of others, but with Jaxon’s warmth pressed against him, the future didn’t feel quite so bleak. He wondered if he was finally done running, or if this was just a momentary respite before the next storm.

Jaxon: “Maybe fate brought us here.”

He smiled.