Page 122 of Double Standards

Figures. Typical Trigger. Always deflecting, always full of shit.

“What are you doing here, Trigger?” I snap, swinging my bag up and over my shoulder. The feigned irritation slips out sharp, but we both know I’m more pissed about what his presence means than the visit itself.

“Axel wants to see you.”

“No, he doesn’t.” I fold my arms across my chest, mirroring him. “I went before. He didn’t want to see me then.”

“Look, between me and you,” he says, stepping forward, his voice low, eyes flicking sideways like the shadows might be listening, “Axel is a fucking mess. He’s not thinking straight. Drinking himself stupid. He’s shutting us all out and I don’t know what to do.”

His words hit harder than I’m willing to admit. It cuts me hearing Trigger sound this helpless, like someone who’s running out of road.

“If you’re defending him for my sake, I don’t?—”

“I’m not,” he interrupts, hard and certain, shaking his head. “It’s the truth.”

“Then tell him to come see me himself,” I bite. “Instead of sending his lap dogs to do the work for him. You all follow his orders like gospel.”

The insult hangs there, sharp and sour. I expect a snapback. Something venomous. But Trigger just stands there, jaw set. Silent.

I turn to walk, tired of playing games, but his hand clamps around my elbow. It’s not rough, not controlling. Just… pleading.

“He hasn’t left the house since the hospital, Cassie.” He lets go just as fast. “I’m not gonna lie. I’m worried about him.”

There’s something raw in his voice. Not the usual bravado. Not the barking commands or thinly veiled threats. Just a man who doesn’t know what the hell to do with another man’s unraveling.

“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

Trigger shakes his head, mouth twitching. “Smart girl.”

“No, you’re just so transparent,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

“So what do you say?”

He shifts his weight like he’s nervous, which is rare. I’ve never seen him this… open. The fact he’s here at all says Axel must be worse than I imagined. And Trigger, stubborn bastard that he is, is swallowing his pride to ask me for help. That alone twists something deep in my gut.

I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to help Axel, but because I do. And that’s the real problem.

“Fine,” I sigh. “But you’re taking me home afterward.”

Trigger doesn’t argue. Just nods once and opens the door like a goddamn gentleman. He even lets me ride up front this time. No silent treatment. No tension. Just the hum of traffic and the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on both of us as he pulls away from the curb and into the chaos of rush hour.

While horns blare and traffic grinds on in fits and starts, Trigger drums his fingers against the steering wheel, keeping time with the low hum of whatever track’s playing through the speakers. I sit back, trying to brace myself for whatever version of Axel I’m about to walk into. Physically, he’s probably fine. But if Trigger’s telling the truth—and this isn’t just some orchestrated manipulation—then Axel’s not coping. Not even close.

“Why do you all do what Axel says?” I ask, breaking the silence as we hit our third red light in under five minutes.

“You think that’s what this is?” Trigger scoffs, cutting me a sideways glance.

“Isn’t it?” My voice is steady, but my thoughts loop. Every interaction I’ve had with The Five replays like fragments of an unfinished puzzle.

The press paint them as five separate empires, always on the edge of war. But they don’t act like that. They move like a single machine—with Axel at the center. The others might wear different names, different histories, but they work together. Without question.

Trigger laughs, loud, sharp and full of disbelief.

What is it with these men laughing at my questions like I’m a kid playing make-believe?

“You really don’t understand how we work, do you?” he says, grabbing his coffee cup and taking a slow sip.

“Enlighten me.” I turn my face toward the window, watching as New York smears past in streaks of yellow cabs and impatient brake lights. We’re crawling toward the Williamsburg Bridge. Red. Green. Red. Start. Stop. Repeat.