Chapter Two-Hundred Thirty-Two: The Dragon and the Butterfly Princess

Chapter 232

The Dragon and the Butterfly Princess

Darker Desires’s neon lights buzzed, casting long, fractured shadows across the stage as the opening bassline thrummed through the floorboards. Jaxon stepped out from the wings, his presence immediately shifting the room’s atmosphere. He moved with a practiced grace, his dark hair streaked with signature crimson—falling partially over his eyes as he approached the center of the stage.

The silver chains around his neck caught the strobing blue lights, glinting against the stark ink of his dragon chest tattoo. He didn’t rush. He let the rhythm dictate his movements, circling the pole once before reaching out to grip the cold metal.

With an effortless motion, he hoisted himself up, his muscles tensing as he spun in a smooth, controlled arc. His movements were a blend of raw power and calculated fluidity, every turn emphasizing the lean strength of his frame. He used the pole not just as a prop, but as an extension of his own momentum, climbing with deceptive ease before sliding back down, stopping just inches from the stage floor with a magnetic, lingering intensity.

As the track transitioned into a slower, more rhythmic tempo, Jaxon began to work with his wardrobe. His fingers moved with precision, starting with the button-down shirt that had been serving as his only cover. He unfastened it slowly, letting the fabric slide off his shoulders and down his arms. With a deliberate flick of his wrist, he discarded it into the shadows at the edge of the stage, leaving only his darker, fitted trousers.

He didn’t break eye contact with the crowd, his smile carrying that familiar, sharp confidence as he continued his dance. He performed a final, sweeping spin around the pole, his silhouette stark against the flashing lights, fully embracing the performance.

The transition in the music deepened, shifting from a pulsing beat into a slow, heavy industrial groove that seemed to vibrate in the very air of the club. Jaxon leaned back against the pole, arching his body with a grace that felt almost predatory. The stage lights dimmed to a deep, bruised violet, forcing the audience to focus entirely on the silhouette he cut against the metallic surface.

His hands returned to the belt of his trousers, his movements languid and deliberate. He let his fingers linger over the buckle, holding the tension in the room at a razor’s edge. With a practiced, fluid motion, he released it, the sound of metal clicking against the floor barely audible over the bass. He peeled the denim away, letting the fabric pool at his feet, leaving him exposed under the relentless sweep of the spotlight.

He didn’t shy away from the scrutiny; instead, he seemed to thrive in it. He spun again, this time higher, his legs wrapping around the pole as he performed a controlled drop that brought him to a halt just inches above the stage. His hair fanned out around his face, a wild frame for that signature, knowing grin.

As the song’s final, lingering note stretched out, vibrating into silence, Jaxon held his final pose. He was breathless, his skin slicked with a light sheen of exertion that caught the overhead lights like diamonds. He stayed there for a heartbeat, anchored to the pole, locking eyes with the front row before finally sliding down the last few inches to stand firmly on the stage. The performance had ended, but the magnetic charge he’d built in the room remained, thick and undeniable.

~

When Jaxon arrived home later that night, he had showered and was getting ready for bed. He had his silk dragon robe draped around his shoulders and open, exposing his nude body. He got out a cigarette and lit it. He let out a small gasp when he saw Noah in the living room cleaning up the mess he had left behind.

Jaxon: “Noah! You’re still here? I thought you would have left!”

He laughed a bit. Noah turned to gaze at him.

Noah: “Not at all, Jaxon. I will work for you as long as I can.”

He said evenly. Jaxon smiled.

Jaxon: “Cheers, man!”

He inhaled a long drag and went inside his bedroom.

~

The next evening, Gus was outside just in his underwear, mowing the lawn. Fabien stepped out. He wore a Pink Floyd black tank top with a green plaid shirt over it, jeans, and flip-flops. He cracked open a beer and began drinking. He saw Jaxon step outside, dressed in a black leather jacket, a black button-down shirt with red-and-gold paisley patterns, tight leather pants, and Chelsea boots. He had his Ray-Bans on and headed to his car.

Fabien: “Where do you think you’re going?”

He asked sharply.

Jaxon: “I don’t report to you, dickhead.”

He fired back.

Fabien: “We’ll see about that.”

He smirked.

Jaxon: “Fuck you!”

He flipped him off and got inside his car. Fabien glared daggers at him as he crushed his beer can in his hand. You will pay for that, he thought.

As Jaxon pulled out of his driveway and drove down the road, Fabien turned to Gus.

Fabien: “Where is he going?”

He asked.

Gus: “Going to pick Lena up for a date.”

He drawled.

Fabien: “Lena? Jordi’s kid sister?”

Gus: “Yup.”

Fabien turned away and had a knowing smirk on his lips.

He tossed his can of beer to Gus.

Fabien: “Go drink that from Jackie-babe’s stinky shoes.”

Gus caught it, and his face lit up. Fabien tossed his car keys into mid-air and got inside his Shelby Mustang. He started the car, lifted the emergency brake, drove out of the driveway, and gunned it down the road.

~

The theater was cavernous, smelling faintly of butter and popcorn, but inside the dim auditorium, it felt like the entire world had shrunk down to the two of them.

Jaxon sat with his arm draped casually over the back of the plush seat, his long, dark hair with its signature red streaks spilling over his shoulders. He was relaxed, watching the screen with mild interest.

Beside him, Lena was a bundle of nervous energy. She wore a long-sleeved blue floral dress that fell to her knees, and white butterfly sandals. She had pulled her legs up onto the seat, tucking her dress carefully around her knees, and was clutching a bucket of popcorn like a shield. Every time the heavy, discordant strings of the film’s score began to shriek, she flinched.

On screen, a character was slowly descending into a dark, abandoned basement. The flashlight beam flickered, illuminating nothing but dust motes and the promise of something terrible lurking in the corners.

Lena let out a soft, stifled squeak and buried her face into Jaxon’s shoulder, her purple hair tickling his neck. The popcorn bucket tilted dangerously in her lap.

Jaxon: “HehahahahAHAHAHA.!”

Jaxon laughed, a low, warm sound that vibrated against her ear.

Jaxon: “It’s just a movie…”

He whispered, his voice smooth and steady. He shifted his arm, sliding it down from the seat to pull her closer against his side.

Jaxon: “The flashlight is just a prop, and the monster is just a guy in a suit who’s probably ready to ralf from being so hot in it.”

Lena: “That is not helping…!”

She mumbled into his paisley shirt, though she didn’t pull away. She peeked out with one eye, her gaze darting toward the screen just as a loud thud echoed through the theater speakers. She jumped, nearly spilling the popcorn again.

Lena: “Why did we pick this one and not the rom-rom I wanted?”

Jaxon: “Because someone needed a reason to hold me tonight.”

He teased. Lena felt a blush creep up her neck, even in the dark. She peeked at him, seeing the corner of his mouth quirk up in that confident, charming smirk she liked so much.

As the movie reached its final, jump-scare-heavy sequence, Lena didn't hide behind the popcorn bucket anymore. Instead, she buried her face in Jaxon’s chest, effectively blocking out the screen entirely. Jaxon just held her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her arm, watching the climax of the film over her head with a look of pure, amused contentment.

For Lena, the horror movie wasn't nearly as terrifying as she’d feared—not when she had her own personal protector right there next to her.

As the final credits began to roll, the theater lights flickered to life, harsh and unforgiving against the lingering shadows of the movie’s atmosphere. The screen dissolved into a list of names, and the sudden silence in the auditorium was broken only by the rustle of other patrons gathering their belongings.

Lena finally peeled herself away from Jaxon’s chest, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the bright lights. She took a deep, shaky breath, smoothing out the fabric of her dress as if to shake off the lingering remnants of the film’s tension.

Jaxon stood up, stretching his arms high above his head, the chain around his neck glinting. He looked down at her, his expression softening from his usual cool, rock-star exterior into something genuinely tender.

Jaxon: “You okay?”

He asked, extending his hand to help her up. Lena took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. Lena: “Barely.”

She confessed with a sheepish grin.

They made their way toward the exit, blending in with the chattering crowd. The transition from the terrifying, dark world of the film back to the brightly lit, popcorn-scented lobby felt almost jarring. Outside, the night air was cooling, a welcome relief from the theater’s recycled, stale air.

As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the city lights reflected in the puddles from a recent shower, giving the pavement a shimmering, cinematic quality. Lena wrapped her arms around herself, still feeling a slight chill—though whether it was the air or the movie, she wasn’t sure.

Before she could take a step, Jaxon slipped off his own jacket—revealing the sleek fit of his paisley shirt underneath—and draped it over her shoulders. The fabric was still warm from his body heat, and it smelled faintly of his cologne: sandalwood and something spicy, like pink pepper.

Lena: “Hey, what about you? You’re going to be cold!”

She protested softly, though she pulled the jacket tighter around her frame. Jaxon just shrugged, his eyes bright with that familiar, charming confidence.

Jaxon: “I’m not the one who spent two hours shaking every time a floorboard creaked. Besides, you look good in my clothes.”

He winked. Lena laughed, the sound bright and clear in the night air, effectively shattering the last of her fear.

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers pulling out of their spots. Jaxon unlocked the passenger side with a sharp click, gesturing for Lena to climb in.

She slid into the low bucket seat, pulling his jacket tighter around her shoulders. The leather seat was still warm, and as she settled in, she caught the lingering trace of his cologne. It was a stark, comforting contrast to the cold, sterile theater she had just escaped.

Jaxon jogged around to the driver’s side and hopped in, the door shutting with a solid, mechanical thud. He turned the key, and the engine roared to life with a throaty, rhythmic rumble that seemed to vibrate through the chassis.

Jaxon: “You okay now?”

He asked, glancing over at her as he checked his mirrors.

Jaxon: “Or do you need me to drive extra fast to outrun any ghosts that might have followed us home?”

He teased. Lena cracked a genuine smile, the last of her tension dissolving.

Lena: “I think any ghosts will have a hard time catching up to this car.”

Jaxon: “You’re a smart girl.”

He grinned. Jaxon grinned, putting the car into gear. He pulled out of the parking lot with a smooth, controlled ease. As they merged onto the main road, the wind rushed over the windshield, whipping Lena's purple hair back. The city lights began to blur into long, neon streaks—pinks, blues, and electric yellows—that danced across the dashboard.

Jaxon kept one hand on the wheel. He didn't say anything. Lena watched him, the way the streetlights caught the red streaks in his dark hair every few seconds, making them look like glowing embers in the passing darkness.

He took a turn a little sharper than necessary, just to hear the tires hug the pavement, and Lena let out a soft, delighted gasp, gripping the door handle.

Jaxon: “See? No monsters. Just us, the open road, and a perfect night for a drive.”

Lena leaned her head back against the seat, looking up at the stars that were just barely visible between the city skyline. She didn't feel scared anymore. She just felt lucky to be exactly where she was.

~

Jordi was out on his patio that evening, reading a book. He wore a yellow button-down shirt with wide lapels, jeans, and was barefoot. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he turned the page. He pushed them back up and shifted in his seat.

The door opened, and Fabien stepped out. Jordi raised his head. His eyebrows rose, pleasantly surprised to see him there.

Jordi: “Hello, Fabien! Nice of you to drop by!”

Fabien took a seat and rubbed his hands.

Jordi: “Lena made an upside-down banana cake, and Ashley made a brownie sundae cheesecake. Do you want some?”

Fabien smiled.

Fabien: “Yeah, sure! Give me both! I’m hungry.”

He laughed.

Jordi: “Still smoking Maui-wowie?”

Fabien snorted.

Fabien: “Of course, I am.”

Jordi retained his smile.

Jordi: “So what brings you by?”

He asked him.

Fabien: “Seeing how you’re doing, man. Where is Lena anyway? I want to compliment her and your girlfriend on their yummy baking.”

He smiled.

Jordi: “Ashley is grocery shopping, and Lena is out with Jaxon.”

Fabien cupped his mouth and knit his eyebrows.

Fabien: “She is?”

Jordi raised an eyebrow.

Jordi: “Is something wrong?”

Fabien looked away and crossed his legs.

Fabien: “Jordi, I don’t know how to tell you this.”

He sighed. Jordi gaped at him and set his book down.

Jordi: “Tell me what?”

Fabien took a deep breath and leaned back, his arms draped on the railing.

Fabien: “Jaxon… is not going to treat her well.”

Jordi gawked at him.

Jordi: “Are you saying this because you and he didn’t work out?”

He shook his head.

Fabien: “Not necessarily. Look, Celeste told me some shady shit he did to her, and I know how protective you are of Lena. I don’t think you want to see him do to her what he did to Celeste.”

He knit his eyebrows.

Jordi: “...What did he do to her? I know they split up.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

Fabien cleared his throat.

Fabien: “Celeste asked him once what he wanted for dinner. He replied, ‘Your pussy.’ ”

He began. Jordi blinked, and his mouth hung open.

Fabien: “He healed her by grabbing her boobs, stuffing objects in her boobs, and making remarks that limited her to her boobs and her vagina.”

He pursed his lips. Jordi cupped his mouth.

Fabien: “And he made a song about masturbating to her.”

Jordi: “Enough.”

He put his hand up, and his jaw tightened.

Jordi: “I’m sorry, Fabien. I heard enough.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

Fabien: “I’m sorry, man. I don’t want things between us to be rough.”

Jordi: “It’s not you, Fabien. I don’t want this to happen to my little sister.”

He rasped. Fabien tried to hide his smirk.

Fabien: “I understand completely. You’re a good big brother, Jordi.”

~

Fabien walked out with two Tupperware containers containing the cakes Lena and Ashley made. Jordi waved him goodbye and watched him get into his car. Narcisse poked his head out from the bushes.

Narcisse: “It seems that Basile’s son has been a naughty little boy… He certainly likes to stir up trouble.”

He chuckled.

~

The car hummed as they cruised down the winding, tree-lined road leading toward their neighborhood, the cool air doing wonders to clear the lingering adrenaline from the movie. Jaxon expertly navigated a sharp curve, his grip on the wheel firm and relaxed, while the streetlights pulsed rhythmically above them. He glanced over, his dark eyes catching the reflection of a passing neon sign.

As Jaxon pulled the car into the driveway, the headlights cut a sharp beam against the garage door before he flicked them off, plunging them into the soft, blue-toned darkness of the late night. He killed the engine, and the sudden silence felt heavy and intimate.

Jaxon: “Home safe.”

He murmured, though neither of them made an immediate move to get out.

Lena unbuckled her seatbelt, the click sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet. She looked over at him—the way his silhouette was framed by the moonlight, catching the sharp angles of his face. The fear from the movie had long since been replaced by the warm, lingering buzz of their drive. Jaxon turned in his seat to face her, his arm still resting on the center console. A playful glint remained in his eyes, but his expression had softened into something deeper.

Lena: “I should give this back…”

She said, softly handing Jaxon his jacket back.

The warm, cozy atmosphere they had built instantly shattered the moment they turned the corner toward the front porch.

Standing under the harsh glow of the entryway light was Jordi. Lena’s breath hitched, the comfortable warmth of Jaxon’s jacket suddenly feeling like a heavy weight.

Lena: “Jordi? What are you doing up?”

Jordi’s gaze snapped toward Jaxon, his eyes sharp and unyielding. He didn’t answer her immediately; instead, his stare locked onto Jaxon. It was a cold appraisal.

Jordi: “You’re late.”

His voice was a low rumble that made the night air seem even colder. He glanced at his watch, then back at Jaxon.

Lena: “Jordi, stop!”

She stepped forward, moving instinctively between the two men.

Lena: “We were just at the movies. It’s not a big deal.”

Jordi: “Get inside, Lena.”

He commanded, glaring at Jaxon.

Jordi: “I need to have a word with him.”

Lena: “Jordi, what is this about?!”

She cried.

Jordi: “I don’t want you seeing him anymore. Fabien told me about how Jaxon objectified Celeste, and I don’t want him doing that to you!”

He snapped. The air in the entryway turned icy cold as those words hung in the silence. Lena felt the blood drain from her face as she heard those words.

The dynamic had shifted instantly. Jaxon’s relaxed, charming exterior was shattered. His shoulders dropped into a defensive, rigid line, and the hand he’d had in his pocket clenched into a fist. He looked at Jordi, not with anger, but with a sharp, piercing clarity.

Jaxon: “Fabien… Of course, it came from him.”

He said, his voice dangerously low.

Jordi: “Don’t change the subject.”

He snapped, stepping up to meet his glare.

Jordi: “He told me about how you treat women and how you treated Celeste! I’m not letting you turn my sister into another one of your trophies!”

Jaxon bared his teeth.

Jaxon: “Why are you listening to fucking FABIEN? Look at how he talks about your girlfriend! He calls her fat!”

He snapped.

Jordi: “Yes, he DID. He doesn’t do this now!”

He hissed.

Jaxon: “And I am not objectifying Lena! We just saw a movie! And you’re listening to Fabien after everything we’ve been through?!”

He braced his legs apart as he caterwauled. Jordi kept his glare on him.

Jordi: “I can ask Celeste, and she will confirm. I asked Tristan, and he confirmed it.”

He folded his arms. Jaxon felt a pang in his chest, hearing Tristan throw him under the bus.

Jaxon waved his hand at him.

Jaxon: “Whatever. All of you hate me and gang up on me because of FABIEN! I didn’t do to Lena what I did to Celeste! Believe me or don’t!”

He snapped as he stormed off to his car. Jordi watched him go and turned to see Lena standing in the kitchen, tears in her eyes.

Jordi: “Lena?”

He knit his eyebrows.

Lena: “Why do you do this, Jordi?! I was having a good time, and you let someone like Fabien ruin it!”

She sobbed. Jordi pivoted so quickly on his heel that he almost toppled over.

Jordi: “I asked Tristan, and he verified it!”

Lena: “Tristan doesn’t like him because he hurt Celeste!”

She bawled.

Lena: “But Celeste left him for Fabien!”

She snapped through hot tears.

Jordi: “Yes, and I can see why! Look at how he treated her!”

He spread his arms out.

Lena: “You can’t tell me who I can see and who I can’t see, Jordi! You had no issues with Tristan, and he still has feelings for Deimos!”

She cried. Jordi drew a long breath.

Jordi: “Tristan would be good to you, but Deimos is hovering around like an annoying June bug! Fitting, as his birthday is in June!”

He huffed.

Lena: “It’s not just Deimos! Tristan loves him back! I was happy tonight, and you and Fabien ruined it, Jordi!”

She embraced herself and sobbed. Jordi knit his eyebrows.

Jordi: “Lena, I didn’t mean to hurt you… I’m looking out for you.”

He said softly. Lena drew back.

Lena: “Don’t touch me, Jordi! You’re just a controlling big brother! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”

She screamed through hot tears and ran to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Jordi let out a long, exhausted breath and rubbed his temples.

~

Jaxon turned into his driveway and shut off his engine. He stepped out of his car and glared at Fabien, who sat on his lawn wearing a smug smirk across his lips.

Fabien: “Have fun?”

He chuckled. Jaxon’s jaw tightened.

Jaxon: “YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD! Why did you do that, asshole?! You have Celeste now! What more do you want from me?!”

He rasped and braced his feet apart as if he was ready for a battle. Fabien grinned.

Fabien: “Why, Jiro? I only told Jordi the absolute truth. You did objectify Celeste, and I know he doesn’t want his little sister being taken advantage of.”

He tilted his head and rested his head on his hand. Jaxon glared contemptuously at him.

Jaxon: “BULL FUCKING SHIT!”

He bellowed, shooting his forefinger at him.

Jaxon: “It’s about wrecking my life!”

Fabien laughed softly.

Fabien: “Hey, man, I’m spreading awareness! You say to-may-toe, I say to-mah-toe.”

Jaxon glared hotly at him.

Jaxon: “Whatever, asshole! Stick to trolling Blair and fuck off out of my life!”

He snapped before heading back into his house, slamming the door behind him.

Fabien watched him and harrumphed.

Fabien: “Why, Jiro? This is so much more fun.”

~

Lena lay in her bed, her mascara streaked down her cheeks. The house was quiet. She figured that Jordi and Ashley had finally settled into sleep. She rose and headed to her bathroom to clean up and apply fresh makeup. She was in two minds about whether to call Jaxon and see him or spend some time outside since it was a lovely night.

Lena tiptoed out of her bedroom. She cracked open Jordi’s bedroom door to see him and Ashley sleeping in bed. She shot her hand out, putting the two into a deep sleep so they wouldn’t disturb her.

She crept down the foyer and into the kitchen, and slid her feet into her butterfly heels. She went outside and sat on the loveseat on the porch. Her thoughts about Jaxon lingered in her mind, but they were dashed at Jordi’s cruel words about him and that he listened to Fabien.

She heard rustling from the bushes. Lena’s heart thundered in her chest as he anxiety soared. She quietly rose and let out a shriek when she saw Narcisse standing before her. Narcisse drank her in and spread his arms out.

Lena: “Wh-Who are you?!”

She stammered and embraced herself, seeing this strange man standing before her with his menacing grin.

Narcisse: “Hello, Miss! I’ve been keeping an eye on you… for quite some time.”

His pink tongue flicked over his lips. Lena tensed up. The fear she felt right now was nothing like what she felt watching the scary movie with Jaxon; this was more intense, and this was real.

Narcisse: “Oh, how rude of me for not introducing myself.”

He stood in a regal posture, folding his arms behind his back.

Narcisse: “I am Narcisse Beaumont, Tristan’s loving uncle!”

He smiled. Lena knit her eyebrows, and a tiny mewl escaped her lips.

Lena: “I-I think you need to leave!”

The words escaped her mouth. Narcisse smiled tightly.

Narcisse: “No, my lovely butterfly princess, I cannot do that.”

He shook his head.

Lena rose to her feet and rushed to the door. Before she could grab the handle, she was trapped in a purple bubble. Fear overcame her when she realized she was trapped.

Lena: “JORDI!! JAXON!! HELP ME!”

She screamed as she pounded on the bubble’s surface. Narcisse marched to her.

Narcisse: “There is no one coming for you, my lovely!”

He sang as he spread his arms out and the bubble rolled toward him. Lena screamed and sobbed inside the bubble. She shot her hand out at Narciisse to put him to sleep, but her attack bounced back at her, and she fell over.

Lena: “Jaxon…”

She moaned and lulled herself into sleep.

The bubble rolled toward Narcisse and popped. He knelt and scooped her up in his arms, admiring her as she slept.

Narcisse: “As beautiful as ever… The fun is about to begin, my butterfly princess.”

He leaned over and pressed his lips on her cheek.

A purple bubble surrounded the two, and it rose into the air, floating off into the night.

~

Jaxon lay in his bed, drowning in a sea of thoughts. So many thoughts arced through his mind. He had a lovely night with Lena, and it came crashing down when Jordi attacked him over something he had done to Celeste, a girl who chose Fabien. To add insult to injury, Tristan threw him under the bus. I guess everyone is against me now because of fucking Fabien, he thought bitterly.

Noah entered his bedroom. Jaxon raised his head.

Jaxon: “Yes?”

Noah: “There is a DashDish delivery boy here for you, sir.”

Jaxon rolled his eyes.

Jaxon: “That FUCKER, Fabien, ordered a prank pizza!”

He thundered and rolled out of bed. He cursed under his breath as he stormed to the door, ready to confront the delivery boy. The driver, a teenager wearing a neon-green "DashDish" polo that had seen better days, looked visibly terrified.

DashDish Driver: "Uh, Jiro? I—I’ve got an order for you. Special instructions."

The boy stammered, holding out a crumpled, greasy paper bag.

Jaxon arched an eyebrow, his long, dark hair shielding his eyes as he looked at the boy.

Jaxon: "I didn't order anything. Tell Fabien to get fucked!”

DashDish Driver: “I know, man! I just get paid to deliver!”

The kid shoved the bag into Jaxon’s chest and scurried back to his electric bike.

Jaxon frowned, pulling a thick, cream-colored envelope from the bottom of the grease-stained bag. It was sealed with a wax stamp bearing a stylized "B." He tore it open, his heart hammering against his ribs as he recognized the elegant, taunting handwriting of Narcisse Beaumont.

To my dear, misguided, simpleton, Jiro,

I find that true art requires a proper setting. Your little butterfly princess, Lena, has become the centerpiece of my latest installation. If you wish to see her again, you need only travel to where the laughter died years ago: The Grand Pavilion of Wonders. Do try to be prompt; the paint dries quickly, and I would hate for her to be permanently captured in such a static pose. The Pavilion awaits its final act, Jiro. Come alone, or the butterfly will be crushed.

— Narcisse

Jaxon’s knuckles went white as he crushed the letter. The Grand Pavilion was a rotting corpse of an amusement park on the edge of the city, long shuttered and avoided by everyone.

He didn’t wait for a second to think. Lena was in danger, and Narcisse was playing a game. Jaxon shoved the letter into his pocket, his expression hardening from cool confidence into cold, singular focus.

He vaulted into the driver’s seat of his car and slammed the ignition. The engine roared to life with a throaty, aggressive growl that shook the tools on the nearby workbench. With a screech of tires that left twin black ribbons on the concrete, Jaxon blasted out of the shop, the pop-up headlights slicing through the darkness like twin daggers.

As he tore down the highway, his hand rested on the gear shifter, his jaw set in a line of hard, unyielding determination. The red streaks in his hair seemed to blaze in the dashboard light as he pushed the pedal to the floor. Jaxon knew the Grand Pavilion was a death trap, but as the miles blurred past, he had only one thought, pulsing in time with the engine: Don’t you dare touch her.