Ava's POV
I jolted awake, the sharp sting of broken glass crunching beneath me. Disoriented, my eyelids fluttered open to a twisted cage of metal and smoke curling through cracked windows. The acrid scent of gasoline burned my nose, and panic clawed at my throat like a wild animal desperate to escape.
Jaxon groaned from the driver's side, his face streaked with blood but eyes fierce the same relentless fire that had drawn me in from the start. Despite the wreckage, despite the pain, that fire hadn't dimmed.
His hand shot out through the twisted debris, fingers brushing mine.
"Stay with me," he rasped, voice low and rough.
"I'm here," I whispered, squeezing his hand with everything I had.
Outside, chaos screamed in sirens blaring, voices barking orders, flashing lights stabbing through the smoke-filled air. But inside the wreckage, it was just us. Trapped. Vulnerable. Stripped of every pretense.
My heart pounded, each beat echoing with the weight of the moment. The timing. The precision. The black SUVs that had cut us off.
This was no accident.
Jaxon's gaze locked with mine, fierce and unyielding. "I told you… you're tied to me."
His words weren't just a warning. They were a promise and a threat.
I swallowed hard, the weight of his meaning sinking deep inside me. I wasn't just tangled in his world through business anymore. I was woven into his life, his battles, his secrets.
The sirens grew louder. Crunching footsteps drew near. Fingers pried at the mangled door. Flashing lights blinded me for a moment.
Then his hand was gone.
Jaxon's breath hitched as the paramedics pulled us out. Pain exploded through my side, white-hot and searing. I gasped each breath at a razor's edge.
But even as they lifted me away, his voice cut through the haze.
"You don't get to walk away."
I didn't know what terrified me more the wreck… or the fierce hold he had on my heart.
The paramedics' voices blurred into background noise as they worked on me. Pain radiated from my ribs, but all I could focus on was Jaxon.
They lifted him out first his eyes never left mine, blazing with a fire I couldn't name. Not just anger or desperation. Something raw. Vulnerable. Terrifyingly real.
One paramedic murmured something about internal bleeding, but I barely heard it. I reached out, fingers finding his hand through the chaos, desperate to keep him tethered to me.
Minutes dragged like hours. The world became a blur of sirens, muffled commands, and cold air on bruised skin.
Then, suddenly, his grip tightened. His voice was a hoarse whisper only I could hear.
"They're not done with us."
A chill rippled through me, deeper than the cuts or bruises. That wasn't just a warning, it was a fact.
Who would want him dead?
My mind raced flashes of our first tense meetings, the power plays, the hushed threats he'd brushed off like static.
This wasn't just business.
It was war.
Jaxon's world was a labyrinth of secrets and shadows. And I was the only one who'd ever dared to challenge him to see past the cold, controlling billionaire to the man underneath.
Now that man was fighting for his life.
And for me.
The ambulance doors slammed shut. The vehicle lurched forward, sirens wailing. Harsh fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows inside.
I leaned toward Jaxon, ignoring the searing pain with every breath.
"Who did this?" I asked, voice trembling but resolute.
His jaw clenched, eyes darkening. "Someone who wants me out of the game."
I wanted to press for more, but the paramedics warned me to stay still.
The ride felt endless.
When the ambulance finally screeched to a halt, a team of doctors rushed in, voices urgent and overlapping.
They whisked Jaxon away first.
His hand slipped from mine.
And all that remained was the electric pull in my chest the magnetic, dangerous connection that had grown between us since day one.
In the sterile hospital room, alone with the steady beep of monitors, my mind spiraled.
Who had orchestrated this attack?
And why had they dragged me into it?
Three days later
Jaxon was awake bruised, bandaged, but alive.
The moment I saw him in the ICU, something inside me twisted tight.
He looked defiant, almost cocky, despite the pain carved into his features.
"Glad you decided to stick around," I teased, sliding into the chair beside his bed.
He smirked, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face.
"You know I don't do dying," he said, voice low and rough.
I laughed, but it didn't reach my eyes.
Because beneath the teasing, beneath the fire, I was scared.
Scared this was just the beginning.
***
Over the next week, the mystery deepened.
Unmarked threats slipped into my phone.
Shadowy figures lingered at the edges of my world.
Jaxon's empire was under siege and now, so was I.
But amid the chaos, our connection only burned brighter.
Late-night hospital visits turned into stolen moments of tension and tenderness.
He teased me with that dangerous grin.
I challenged him with my stubborn defiance.
And in the quiet, our walls crumbled.
One evening, when the hospital halls were nearly silent, Jaxon pulled me into a secluded corner of the lobby.
His fingers traced a slow line down my arm.
"You're playing with fire, Ava."
I bit my lip, my heart thundering. "Maybe I like the heat."
His laugh was low and rough, a promise wrapped in danger.
"Good," he whispered, pulling me close enough to feel his warmth press into mine.
His lips brushed mine
And then the hospital doors burst open.
A figure stepped inside.
Tall. Dark. Unmistakably familiar.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was him.
The man from my past.
The one I thought was gone for good.
But here he was.
Watching.
Waiting.