Chapter 182 - 0182: Who Did This To You

Chapter 182: Chapter 0182: Who Did This To You

Elena’s Point Of View

The car swerved slightly, jarring me back to the present. My eyes fluttered open, and the city lights blurred past the tinted window, bright and fleeting like memories I wanted to forget, like fragments of a life that had never truly belonged to me. Roman glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable, but his voice was grounded when he spoke.

"You okay back there?"

I exhaled, long and slow, the crushing weight on my chest lifting, just a little, as though someone had finally loosened the knot that had been strangling me for hours. "Yeah." My voice was hoarse, raw, but true. "I think I am."

For the first time in years.

I leaned my head back against the leather, my lips curving into a small, private smile, one I didn’t even try to hide. The car sped through the night, the engine humming a steady rhythm that carried away the last remnants of a life I never wanted to live again, mile by mile, block by block, until Graham’s estate felt like a distant nightmare rather than the place I’d woken up in that morning.

Roman caught my eye in the mirror again, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. "You’re quieter than I expected. Thought you’d be asking a million questions about where we’re going."

"Honestly?" I pulled my arms tighter around myself, savoring the strange, unfamiliar comfort of not having to perform for anyone. "I don’t even care where we’re going. Anywhere is better than where I was."

"Fair point," he said smoothly, shifting gears as we took a sharp turn downward into a private subterranean ramp, the tires humming against smooth concrete. "Though I wouldn’t worry too much. Jaxx isn’t taking you to some dusty safehouse. He doesn’t do low-key."

"Where are we, Roman?"

"The Vault," he replied, taking a slick left, the name rolling off his tongue like something sacred.

The car glided to a smooth stop in the underground garage beneath the private bar, the engine purring like a contented beast before falling silent. The overhead fixtures flickered softly, casting a warm golden glow over polished concrete and sleek lines of luxury cars parked in neat rows like sentinels guarding secrets I couldn’t begin to imagine.

My fingers tightened around the leather armrest, my heart suddenly racing, my throat drying up like I’d swallowed sand. Why was I nervous? This was Jaxx. Just Jaxx. The boy who’d taunted me in high school, the man who’d sent a tactical retrieval team for me tonight, the one who’d always made my stomach flip and my pulse spike with nothing but a glance. Nothing special there.

Right?

Roman turned around in his seat, his green eyes gleaming with amused irony as he watched me hesitate, clearly enjoying the sight of me unraveling. "You gonna sit there all night, or are you actually coming inside?"

"I’m moving," I muttered, though my hands trembled slightly as I reached for the door handle, betraying the calm I was desperately trying to project.

"You look like you’re about to walk into a deposition, Elena," Roman teased, his voice low and easy. "Relax. He’s not gonna bite. Well... unless you ask him to."

I shot him a sharp glare, my cheeks instantly heating up. "Roman."

He chuckled, unbuckling his belt and pushing his door open, clearly delighted by my discomfort. "I’m just saying. The man’s been pacing a hole through his hardwood floor for three hours. He’s not mad at you."

I stepped out onto the cool concrete, the crisp air hitting my face - so clean, nothing like the stifling, perfume-heavy atmosphere of Graham’s estate, where even the air had felt like a cage. A security detail in a dark suit stepped forward, giving Roman a sharp nod before gesturing toward a discreet steel elevator tucked into the far corner.

My heels clicked softly against the floor as I followed behind Roman, my eyes sweeping over the high-end vehicles around us, each one gleaming like a quiet testament to a world I still didn’t fully understand.

"Has this garage always been here?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loud would break the spell of finally feeling safe.

Roman punched a fast five-digit code into the elevator keypad. "Built three years ago. Fully soundproofed, private access directly to the top suite. No pap, no unwanted guests, no Sinclair bastards."

The doors slid open silently, revealing a mirrored interior. My reflection caught me off guard - hair slightly wild, lips pale, eyes wide with an emotion I didn’t dare name out loud. I looked like someone who had survived something, though I still wasn’t sure what to call it.

"Jaxx owns the whole building?" I asked as we stepped inside, though I already knew the answer to that.

"He owns the block, Elena," Roman said casually, leaning against the handrail as the elevator began its smooth ascent.

My breath hitched. Of course he did. Jaxx... wealthy, dangerous, untouchable. He had always been a force of nature, a man who bent the world to his will until it snapped into place.

But this? This level of control was absolute, and something about it made my chest tighten with a feeling I refused to call longing.

"And what am I doing here, Roman?" I looked at him directly in the glass, needing an answer I could actually hold onto. "Why didn’t he just send me to a hotel?"

Roman stopped smirking. His expression softened into something rare and genuine as he turned his head to look at me, and for a moment, the easy humor drained from his face entirely. "Because if he put you in a hotel, he’d be standing outside your door all night with a gun. He wanted you somewhere where nobody could touch you. Where he could make sure you were safe."

The words settled over me like a warm blanket, and I didn’t know what to do with the sudden sting behind my eyes.

The elevator dinged softly, the doors sliding open to reveal a private hallway lined with low mood lighting, the air rich with a subtle scent - warm amber, cedar, and a hint of fine whiskey, a scent that somehow already felt like safety.

Roman stepped out onto the plush carpet, then stopped and turned back to face me, gesturing down the hall.

"End of the hall," he said, his voice dropping into a quieter register. "Double doors. They’re unlocked."

I hovered inside the elevator frame, suddenly reluctant to let him go. "You’re not coming with me?"

"Hell no." Roman barked out a quiet laugh, stepping back so the doors would clear. "I value my life. Jaxx has been waiting for this conversation, Elena. I’m not playing third wheel. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything."

"Roman..."

"Go on," he said, giving me a reassuring nod, his eyes warm despite the teasing edge still lingering in his voice. "You’re safe now. For real this time."

He hit the button, and the elevator doors swept shut with a soft whoosh, leaving me alone in the quiet hallway with nothing but the thudding of my own pulse and the sudden, overwhelming awareness of what waited at the end of the hall.

I took a long, steadying breath, my fingers curling into fists before letting go. "It’s just Jaxx," I whispered under my breath, trying to anchor myself against the storm building in my chest. "Nothing special there."

Right.

I walked forward, my heels sinking into the heavy carpet as I reached the massive dark wood doors at the end. I didn’t even have to knock... the electronic latch clicked open as I approached, swinging inward to reveal the sprawling suite beyond.

Dark paneling stretched along the walls, floor-to-ceiling glass framed the glowing skyline, ambient warm lighting pooled across every surface, and that unmistakable, intoxicating scent of Jaxx filled every inch of the room, wrapping around me before I’d even crossed the threshold.

And there he was.

He stood by the glass window overlooking the city, his broad shoulders tensed, his silhouette sharp against the sprawling grid of lights below. He wore a dark, tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark trousers hugging his frame. His thick dark hair looked slightly messy, as though he’d been running his hands through it over and over, and his profile looked like it had been carved out of stone, all hard lines and restrained tension.

At the sound of my footstep, he turned.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, intense and burning with a storm of emotions he couldn’t hide. For a long, agonizing second, he simply stood there, motionless, staring at me as if confirming I was actually real and not just a ghost he’d been chasing through the night. Then something in his posture broke, the rigid tension in his shoulders giving way as he exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours.

He moved toward me, his long, unhurried strides closing the distance between us in seconds. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs, my throat tight as he stopped just inches away, close enough that the heat radiating off his body enveloped me, close enough that I could see the raw, volatile edge in his dark irises.

"Elena." His voice came out as a low, rough rasp, thick with restraint.

He reached out slowly, his large, warm hand moving toward mine, his long fingers brushing gently over my skin as though he feared I’d shatter if he pressed too hard. I knew I should have said something... a witty remark, a polite thank you, anything to keep a safe distance between us, but I was paralyzed, completely anchored to the floor under the weight of his attention.

Then his movement abruptly halted.

His eyes dropped down to my hands. My knuckles were red, scraped, and raw, torn open from pounding desperately against the locked oak door of Graham’s study, fighting to break free before Roman had kicked it off its hinges.

The air in the room instantly turned sub-zero.

Jaxx’s face hardened into a terrifying, dangerous mask. His jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticked visibly against his skin, and the warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by an icy, lethal darkness that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

His fingers tightened gently around my wrist, lifting my damaged hand into the dim light.

"Who did this to you?" he rasped, his voice dangerously low, each word carved from something far colder than anger.