Chapter 124 - 0124: You’ve Never Rejected Me

Chapter 124: Chapter 0124: You’ve Never Rejected Me

Jaxx’s Point Of View

The heavy silence pressed in on us again, suffocating and thick, until I broke it with the sharp, echoing click of my heavy leather boots against the floor. I turned and walked toward the exit, Roman trailing reluctantly, silently behind me like a ghost who hadn’t yet realized he was dead.

We pushed through the grand double doors of the private suite, stepping into the dimly lit VIP hallway. The air out here was cooler, darker, lined with faint amber sconces that flickered faintly against peeling gold trim.

From three floors below, the deep, bass-heavy thrum of jazz and muffled electronic music spilled faintly through the floorboards, vibrating through the walls like a slow, steady pulse, as though the whole building had a heartbeat of its own.

Roman muttered curses under his breath the entire way down the carpeted stairs.

"Madness. Pure fucking insanity, Jaxx. I’m telling you right now as your brother... that girl is going to be the absolute death of you. Mark my fucking words."

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My mind wasn’t in this hallway anymore. It wasn’t in the building. It was with her. It was always with her... sitting in that dark room, carrying those fading bruises, nursing that stubborn, beautiful, terrifying spirit that refused to break no matter what the world had already done to her.

By the time we pushed through the heavy oak doors leading into the main floor of the club, the atmosphere shifted instantly into a thick wall of sound, heat, and scent.

The underground club was low-lit, bathed in deep crimson and velvet shadows, wrapped in a suffocating haze of expensive cigar smoke, spilled bourbon, and heavy designer perfume.

Red leather booths sagged under the weight of powerful, corrupt men who genuinely believed they ruled the city... their crystal glasses filled with top-shelf liquor, their dark suits neat, their cigars burning slow and red in the dark.

Young, beautiful waitresses moved smoothly between the tables, all long legs, lace, and painted smiles, carrying silver trays balanced like seamless extensions of their bodies.

And then there were my men.

My soldiers.

Stationed at every single exit, lined up against the stone pillars, wearing tailored black suits with sharp, lethal eyes that never stopped scanning the crowd.

The moment my boots hit the main floor, every single soldier straightened their spine. The collective hum of the room seemed to dim slightly, bending toward me as if gravity itself tilted in my direction the second I walked into the light.

I didn’t slow my pace. I began spitting quick, clipped Italian off my tongue as two of my lieutenants fell into rank beside me... issuing ruthless, precise instructions regarding the shipping containers down at the docks, the new distribution routes, cash drops, and upcoming cartel meetings. Business. The dark, familiar, violent business that used to be the only thing that kept me grounded.

But as the words left my mouth, my voice felt hollow. It didn’t match the chaotic hammer driving inside my chest. It couldn’t drown out the relentless thrum of Elena’s name beating like a war drum against the inside of my ribs, refusing to let me focus on anything else for longer than a few scattered seconds.

And then, through the heavy wall of noise and bass... I heard it.

"Jaxx."

A voice. Feminine. Soft. Dripping with familiar, practiced velvet.

It hit me like a physical gunshot to the side of the head. I stiffened instantly, my boots coming to a dead halt on the polished floor.

Before my brain could even register the command to stay icy and detached, my head snapped sharply toward the sound.

She was walking straight toward me through the swirling haze of purple and red smoke, stepping across the club floor like she owned every single inch of the place.

It was Nina.

Her hips swayed in a slow, deliberate rhythm that wasn’t rushed, wasn’t hesitant... the exact kind of practiced, sultry rhythm that knew precisely what it did to the weak men watching her from the booths.

Her skin-tight, emerald-green silk dress clung to every curve of her body in places it had no business clinging to, the expensive fabric catching the dim neon glow, spilling shadows and golden light like a promise.

A heavy, sweet trail of expensive French perfume followed right in her wake, slicing sharply through the foul stench of cigars and whiskey.

Her black high heels clicked against the dark floorboards, every single step calculated, practiced, and dripping with flirtatious intent.

As she closed the distance, her full, dark red painted lips parted into a slow, dangerous, cat-like smile.

"Where have you been, handsome?" Nina purred, her voice low, sultry, laced with a heavy dose of playful, intimate reproach. "You’ve been dodging my calls for three whole weeks. I was starting to think you forgot about me... and I’ve missed you so much, Jaxx."

She reached for me.

Her soft, pale hand moved fluidly through the smoke, her manicured fingers stretching straight toward my bare forearm like she had every right in the world to touch me... like she had laid hands on my skin a thousand times before in the dark and fully expected me to pull her flush against my chest right here in front of everyone.

Three months ago, I would have pulled her into my lap, poured her a glass, and taken her upstairs without giving it a second thought.

But I wasn’t that man anymore.

The second her painted nails came within an inch of my jacket, my blood boiled over into pure, sudden, white-hot rage. A visceral wave of disgust and irritation flared violently inside my gut.

This wasn’t her.

This wasn’t the skin I wanted to feel under my fingers. This wasn’t the voice I wanted whispering in the dark. This wasn’t Elena.

And right now, at two in the morning, with my mind completely shredded by memories of a battered girl in a cheap dress, anything and anyone that wasn’t Elena felt like a filthy, unbearable insult.

It was a brutal reminder of how desperately I wanted the one woman on this planet I couldn’t fucking have.

Before my brain could even filter the movement, my right hand shot out like a striking viper.

Clack.

My large, calloused fingers locked violently around Nina’s delicate wrist mid-air, stopping her hand a fraction of an inch from my shirt. I squeezed hard... hard enough to freeze her completely in her tracks, my grip turning into an iron vise around her pale skin.

Nina gasped loudly... a soft, shocked sound caught somewhere between genuine pain and sudden, confused alarm.

"Don’t."

The single word ripped out of my throat like a dark, feral growl, infinitely sharper and more lethal than I had intended, poisoned with every ounce of dark fury I was struggling to hold back inside my chest.

"Don’t ever fucking touch me like that again."

Nina’s dark eyes widened in complete, breathtaking shock.

The immediate area around us instantly went dead quiet. My lieutenants stopped speaking mid-sentence. My soldiers didn’t move an inch, staring straight ahead like statues, but the air in the room snapped tight enough to draw blood.

Beside me, Roman straightened up, his hand reflexively dropping near his belt, watching the interaction with razor-sharp, quiet intensity.

"Jaxx... what?" Nina whispered, her voice trembling slightly, her seductive confidence evaporating into thin air.

I released her wrist so abruptly it was like her touch had physically burned my flesh. I shoved my hands deep into my black trousers pockets, taking a heavy, deliberate step back to force a massive, cold wall of distance between us.

"I said," I repeated, my voice dropping even lower, dipped in a terrifyingly quiet, dangerous ice that made the waitresses nearby flinch, "do not touch me again."

Nina stood frozen in the middle of the crowded club, her long, dark eyelashes trembling under the sheer weight of my cold rejection.

Her painted lips parted, then closed, then parted again as if her brain was desperately trying to process a reality that didn’t make any sense to her. Her voice came out unsteady, fragile, but heavy with wounded pride.

"You’ve never..." she faltered, her voice cracking slightly as she took in the total, unyielding frost in my eyes. She tried again, leaning in slightly, her gaze searching my face frantically. "You’ve... you’ve never rejected me before, Jaxx. What the hell is this?"

The words hung between us like heavy, suffocating smoke.

I said absolutely nothing. My jaw remained locked like iron. My heart thundered wildly against my ribs, beating so hard and fast I could feel the violent rhythm rattling in my back teeth.

Nina stared up at me, mascara heavily lining her wide, shocked eyes, her mouth remaining slightly parted as her eyes darted across every inch of my stony, unreadable face... desperately searching for a reason, for a clue, for the sudden, massive, terrifying wall that had just risen between us out of nowhere.

She took a tiny, hesitant step forward, her voice dropping into a desperate, trembling whisper that cut through the bass of the club.

"Jaxx... what the hell is going on?"