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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ALEXIS
I know something is bothering Cain, but I don’t know what it is.
He was already wide awake when I got up to get ready for my morning shift. Shortly before we were supposed to leave, he took a call from Elijah that stretched on for nearly twenty minutes. Ever since he hung up, a suffocating silence has settled over him.
He’s gotten even quieter, his jaw locked tight and his eyes distant, staring right through the windshield as he drives.
I want to ask him what’s wrong, but I hold my tongue. I don’t want to pry into family business he isn't ready to share.
As we approach the turn for The Blackwood, Cain suddenly flips his blinker and cuts across two lanes of traffic. "Can we stop by Eden real quick before I drop you at work?" he asks, his voice low and tight.
I glance down at my watch, biting my lip. There’s a rare, flickering shadow of worry in his eyes.
"Is everything okay?" I ask softly.
He gives me a single, stiff nod. "We’ll talk as soon as we get upstairs to the office."
"Okay," I say, reaching over to rest my hand on his thigh.
Ten minutes later, we pull up to Eden. When we walk into the office, Elijah is the only one inside, standing by the high glass windows with a glass of scotch in his hand and a grave, unreadable expression.
My stomach drops. A cold wave of suspicion washes over me.
"Morning, Alexis," Elijah says, offering me a tight, formal nod.
"Hi, Elijah," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper as I look between the two brothers.
Cain steps up behind me, his broad hands guiding my shoulders gently, pressing me down into one of the plush leather armchairs in front of the massive mahogany desk.
I look up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs, and demand, "Cain, what's going on? You're scaring me."
Cain doesn't sit. He remains standing beside my chair, a towering, silent shadow, before resting one hand on the leather backrest.
"You can't go back to work, Alexis," he says. "Not today. Not until this is finished."
"What?" My head snaps back, a flash of defensive heat instantly flaring in my chest. "Cain, we just talked about this. I'm not going to sit locked away in your house while—"
"Listen to him, Alexis," Elijah cuts in smoothly, stepping away from the window and setting his glass down on the desk. His expression is grim, entirely businesslike.
"This isn't about Cain. Late last night, our men picked up chatter from the Devlin syndicate. Nolan's brothers are spiraling after what happened in that alley. They've had men questioning Blackwood staff since yesterday—asking about your shift patterns, which door you use, who you leave with."
Elijah leans forward against the edge of the mahogany desk, his dark gaze holding mine. "A predictable routine is a death sentence in our world. You going to that club every day makes you an easy target, and it puts every bartender, waitress, and customer in that building in danger."
The heat in my throat dies instantly, replaced by a cold, sickening lump. My coworkers. My friends.
If I keep going to work just to prove a point—just to show Cain that he doesn't own me or control my choices—I’m putting innocent people in Nolan's line of fire. People who have nothing to do with this war.
I close my eyes, taking a slow, shaky breath, forcing my pride down into my stomach. When I open them again, I look up at Cain.
"Okay," I say quietly. "I'll stay away from The Blackwood until Nolan is taken care of."
A visible wave of tension drains from Cain's broad shoulders, though his face remains guarded. "Good," he rumbles. "You don't have to worry about money. I'll transfer whatever you need to cover your rent, your bills, all of it—"
"No," I interrupt immediately, raising a hand. "I have savings. I can cover my own expenses for a few weeks."
Cain's dark brow twitches, his jaw setting into a tight, hard line. He doesn't argue with me—not in front of Elijah—but I can practically feel the restless irritation radiating off him. He hates it. He hates being blocked from simply throwing his money at the problem and fixing it for me.
