Page 29

CHAPTER 29

PHARO

It starts with a sound—soft at first. A rustle of sheets, a shift of his body. Then the sharp, guttural edge of a name torn from his throat.

“Jordan—no, no, Jordan ?—”

My eyes snap open.

Jax thrashes beside me, caught somewhere between sleep and hell. His jaw clenches, breath coming in ragged gasps, and his fingers clutch at the blanket like he’s trying to hold something that’s already gone.

I sit up fast, heart hammering.

“Jax,” I say, reaching for his shoulder. He doesn’t hear me. Doesn’t feel me. He’s lost in it.

“Jax,” I say again, louder this time. My hand grips his arm, firm but careful. “Hey. You’re dreaming. You’re safe. It’s me.”

He jerks like he’s been hit. His eyes open wide—blank, distant, like he doesn’t recognize me. That’s the part that guts me. That flicker of pure panic before recognition sets in. Like I’m the enemy.

“Pharo?” he breathes, voice hoarse.

“Yeah. I’m here.” I cup the back of his neck and lean in, grounding him with my hands, my voice, whatever I can offer. “You’re okay. You’re out. He’s gone.”

He swallows hard, blinking fast, like he’s trying to force himself back into this moment, this room, this bed. His chest rises and falls in shallow waves.

I shift closer, pressing our foreheads together.

“You don’t have to go through that alone,” I whisper. “Not anymore.”

He never should have had to face it alone. I should have been there from the first night.

Jax exhales shakily, the fight slowly leaving his body. One of his hands finds mine under the blanket, rough fingers curling tight.

“I couldn’t save him,” he says, barely audible.

“I know,” I whisper. “But you’re still here. And I’m not going anywhere. I was there the day it happened when you saw it for the first time, and I’m here now. And I swear to God, the next time you have this nightmare, I’ll be right here.”

We stay like that for a long time. His heartbeat slowly calms beneath my palm, and the only sound is the quiet night pressing in around us.

I don’t let go.

By the time his breathing evens out, my eyes are still wide open, staring at the ceiling like it’s going to give me answers. I don’t sleep. Not really. Just lie there, listening to the soft rhythm of Jax’s breaths, steady now, no more whispers of Jordan’s name in his sleep.

It’s morning before I know it. Pale light slips through the blinds, painting the room in soft gray. I shift a little, and Jax stirs beside me. He blinks slowly, like his body’s reluctant to admit it’s awake.

He groans and throws an arm over his face. “Fuck.”

“Morning to you, too, sunshine,” I say gently, my voice low so it doesn’t feel like too much.

“Did I…” he sighs. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me. The screaming did.” I offer a half-smile, not teasing exactly—just trying to ease the sharp edges.

He winces. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I sit up and lean back against the headboard, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’d rather be awake with you than asleep without you.”

He lowers his arm, just enough to peek at me. “That’s disgustingly romantic.”

“Yeah, well. I had to balance out your brooding somehow.”

That gets the smallest, reluctant twitch of his mouth. A win, in my book.

Jax turns onto his side, propping his head up on his fist. “You’re leaving today, aren’t you.”

It’s not so much a question as an accusation.

His silence lingers long after I’ve started moving around the room, gathering up my things—jacket, wallet, phone charger tangled in the outlet like it’s trying to delay me.

Jax doesn’t say a word. Just watches from the bed, head resting on his hand, eyes sharp and unreadable.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, then pause at the door.

“You’re really not gonna say anything?” I ask.

He shrugs, too casual to be real. “You’re doing what you gotta do.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Jax sits up straighter, running a hand through his spiky hair. His jaw flexes, and I can practically hear the fight happening inside him—say it, don’t say it, say it.

Finally: “You said this was your last rotation.”

“It is.”

“Right.” His tone is flat. Defensive. “Except that’s what you said last time, too.”

I exhale, step back into the room, and close the door behind me. “This is different.”

“Why? Because of me?” he snaps, and then instantly appears to regret it. “Because if that’s the case, maybe you should think twice.”

I take a beat. Let him hear the silence.

“Yeah,” I say. “Because of you. Because I want something more than war stories and bullet scars. Because I want to wake up next to someone who makes the world feel less heavy for once.”

He swallows hard.

“And yeah,” I continue, softer now, “I’m scared too. Scared I’ll get back there and forget what this feels like. Scared I’ll start running again. But I’m more scared of losing this.”

Jax rolls out of bed with a groan like he’s battling the hardest part of his day.

“You promise you’ll come back?” he asks. No sarcasm. No snark. Just raw.

I walk up to him and place my hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at me. “I promise. No extensions. No detours. Just one last goodbye.”

He dips his chin—just barely. But in that tiny shift, I see it: a fracture in all that steel.

Jax searches my eyes. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“I’m counting on it. I can’t change what happened,” I murmur. “But I can be here for what comes next.”

He exhales like it’s the first real breath he’s taken in days. “You always say the right thing. It’s annoying.”

“I practice in the mirror.”

He cracks a smile and pulls me into a kiss that’s not rushed or desperate. It’s steady. Solid. Like something worth returning to.

* * *

The hangar smells like jet fuel, sunbaked steel, and dust. Familiar. Grounding. The kind of scent that worms into your bones and stays there even when you're continents away.

Rand is hunched over a clipboard when I walk in, squinting like the numbers are trying to lie to him.

“Rand,” I call, dropping my duffel with a thud. “How’s my ride?”

He glances up, straightening with a sly smile that’s equal parts trouble and affection. “Not ready.”

I frown. “Not ready?”

He shrugs, too casually. “She’s grounded for another hour. Compressor’s acting moody. Maybe more.”

I leveled him with a stare. “What, did she wake up on the wrong side of the hangar?”

He doesn’t answer, just gestures behind me with a tilt of his chin. “Why don’t you ask your team?”

I turn.

And just like that—I’m not in a hangar anymore. I’m home.

Orson’s the first to step forward, a wide grin splitting his face. “Thought you could sneak out without saying goodbye?”

Hogan’s right behind him, arms crossed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Didn’t want you getting soft on us, Havoc. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Holy shit ,” I breathe, chest tightening. “You assholes—what are you doing here?”

“Rotation ended early,” Hogan explains with a shrug. “Two weeks stateside for a little R&R.”

“And we figured we’d make the most of our liberty,” Orson adds, clapping me on the back hard enough to jolt my ribs. “By tormenting you one last time.”

I laugh—gruff and surprised and so damn full of feeling I can barely hold it in. God, I hope it’s not the last time.

Then Arlo steps out from behind them, hands in his pockets, that crooked grin of his intact.

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a proper sendoff, did you?”

“Don’t we usually have some kind of hazing ritual for retirement, Boss?” Hogan asks.

Arlo grins and shakes his head. “Having to entertain his entire crew for the day is punishment enough. Besides, I’m not shipping out with the rest of you tonight. Havoc is putting my needy ass up for a few days.”

I blink. “You’re not shipping out?”

“Not right away. Took a few extra days. Figured I’d hang around. Get underfoot.” His sharp gaze cuts to Rand, where it lingers. Interesting . “Raid your fridge.”

I can’t believe they’re here. The whole team. For me. A sharp twinge of pain stabs my chest at the idea of losing them, but I know I’m making the right decision. No second-guessing required.

We pile into the bar like we own the place. Which, to be fair, we sort of do for the next couple of hours. Hogan tosses his arm around Orson’s shoulder like they’re heading into battle, and Rand’s already eyeing the jukebox like it owes him money. Arlo walks beside me, hands in his pockets, taking everything in with that quiet, observant calm of his.

And then I see him—Jax. Leaning against the end of the bar, beer in hand, forearms flexed, looking like a wet dream in a worn band shirt, leather jacket, and a scowl meant specifically for me.

He got my text.

He sees the crowd behind me and arches a brow. “So. This is what you meant by one last goodbye .”

I grin. “Surprise.”

With a dry tone, he says, “You brought your whole damn squad into our quiet town.”

“They’re housebroken,” I lie smoothly. “Mostly.”

I gesture for the team to gather around, but Jax’s eyes lock onto Arlo, like he’s running a threat assessment on the guy. A guy he nicknamed Zaddy and accused me of sleeping with.

I clear my throat and shove my hands in my back pockets. “Gehenna—this is Jax, my partner.”

Orson nudges Hogan and mutters, “Called it. Should we nickname this guy retirement?”

“I’m standing right here,” Jax replies flatly.

Rand whistles, a smirk playing at his lips. “Took you long enough to say it out loud.”

Arlo just smiles, slow and knowing, and offers Jax his hand. “Thanks for keeping him grounded. He doesn’t make it easy.”

Jax shakes it, eyes never leaving mine. “I like a challenge.”

Orson leans in toward me with a playful grin. “So is this the guy you were mooning over when you thought we weren’t looking?”

“Mooning?” I echo.

“You absolutely mooned,” Hogan confirms.

Jax’s lips twitch. “Gonna need to hear all those stories.”

“Please don’t,” I mutter.

Too late. The floodgates open, and suddenly I’m drowning in tales of our most questionable missions, worst decisions and fuck ups, and that one time I nearly got arrested for “allegedly” stealing a camel.

Jax laughs— actually laughs—and it hits me all at once: this weird, ragtag moment is everything I didn’t know I needed. Him, them, us.

Different worlds colliding. And somehow, it works.

Maybe I don’t have to say goodbye. Maybe there’s a way to have both in my life, even if Gehenna’s world is at a distance.

The noise from inside the bar fades behind me as I step out onto the back deck. The stars are out in full force—clear, sharp, and scattered like someone up there threw a handful of diamonds across the sky. I lean on the railing, beer in hand, letting the cool night wrap around my shoulders.

Footsteps creak behind me.

“I figured I’d find you out here,” Arlo says, settling beside me like we’ve done this a hundred times before. He doesn’t look at me, just follows my gaze up to the sky. “You’ve got that ‘thinking too hard’ face on.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. You get this little crease right here.” He taps between his brows. “Like you’re arguing with yourself.”

I chuckle softly. “Might be.”

He lets the silence settle, comfortable as always, then says, “So? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I exhale, slow and measured. “I’ve been thinking… Maybe I don’t have to walk away from everything.”

He hums, motioning for me to go on.

“I mean, Gehenna’s been my whole life for so long. The deployments, the training, the adrenaline. The sense of purpose. But being home, seeing Jax, making peace with the past… I don’t know. It’s like I remembered there’s a version of me that isn’t always waiting for the next mission.”

Arlo’s quiet, thoughtful. Doesn’t interrupt.

“So what if I stayed on?” I say. “Not in the field. Not training teams. But as a consultant. Updating training manuals and procedures. Helping with transport tactics. Passing down the stuff I’ve learned without being the guy getting shot at.”

Arlo finally turns to face me, his expression unreadable—but something in his eyes shifts. “You’d be damn good at that.”

“I’d still be part of it. Still connected. But I’d have a home base. With Jax. With…something steady.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Arlo’s mouth. “You don’t sound conflicted. You sound ready.”

“I’m tired,” I admit. “Tired of pretending I have to keep proving something out there. Maybe it’s time I started showing up for myself instead.”

Arlo lifts his bottle, clinks it against mine. “To showing up. And to finding a life that fits.”

I clink back. “To both.”

We drink in silence. The stars above us. The noise of laughter drifted from inside. And for once, I’m not stuck between two worlds. I’m standing right in the middle, and it feels like balance.