Page 31 of Double Standards

“Keep it quiet. All of you,” I snap, letting the weight in my voice do the work of a warning. “Until the trial’s over, we stay low. No noise. No fuckups. You breathe wrong, and the D.A. will spin it into evidence.”

A chorus of reluctant nods follows, none of them meeting my eyes for long. Good. Let them stew in it.

“You should let Cassie do her job, Ax. You can’t control everything,” Trigger warns, eyes steady.

I meet his stare. He means well, but he doesn’t understand. Control isn’t a habit. It’s how I survived. It’s all I’ve got left.

Hunter takes the hint and leaves.

I turn to Max and slide him a photo. “Follow him. Discreetly.”

Max doesn’t ask questions. He never has—that’s what makes him dangerous. He takes the picture from my hand, gives it one hard look, and nods once.

Then he’s gone, slipping out of the room without a sound. Most people take one look at Max and assume he’s the muscle—and to be fair, he is. Built like a damn freight train, tall and broad with a face that looks carved from concrete, he doesn’t need to say much to make a point. But that silence hides more than brute force.

Max runs his own crew—tight, efficient, lethal. We’ve been partners for years, each holding a fifth of the empire. He doesn’t posture, doesn’t play games, just gets shit done. And beneath the heavy frame and the dead-eyed stare is a mind sharp enough to make computers beg. Coding, tracking, surveillance—he’s a fucking menace behind a screen.

Now he’s got the photo. And if there’s anything to find, Max will dig it up, gut it, and deliver it on a silver platter—no questions asked.

“Anything else?” Trigger asks.

“Yeah. Keep your head down. We can’t afford another name on a docket.”

He stretches, then grins like a devil.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” I warn. I know Trigger well, too well. He sees a challenge like a meal. He’ll eat it up just for the pure satisfaction. But his situation skates too close to what’s already going on. “Be careful, brother.”

“Always.”

Chapter Eleven

It’s been a week since I last saw Axel. My challenge must’ve hit a nerve because he hasn’t spoken to me since. Maybe he’s just waiting to play his next move, figuring me out like a predator watching prey exhaust itself. Still, some part of me feels victorious. Colombo was right. Axel won’t hurt me. Not in the way I feared. If anything, he seemed amused by my little show of bravado—intrigued, even. But it doesn’t stop the unease that creeps in after five full days without a visit. Not even Colombo has shown up.

Now, with one week to go until Axel’s arraignment, I’m chewing my nails down to the quick. I thought he’d swagger in by now, gloating like the smug bastard he is. But I’ve heard nothing. Not a word. Not a whisper.

The only option I can think of is heading back to the gallery or his place, but I’m not even sure I remember the way. The thought makes me restless.

“You’ve got a visitor,” Jada calls through the telecom.

“Thanks,” I say, straightening my jacket and heading to the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but something in my gut twists. Like I already know.

I reach for the handle. The door flies inward and everything happens fast.

My face smashes into the glass with bone-rattling force. Stars explode behind my eyes. Then pain radiates, hot and sudden. I stumble, hands flying to my nose, and before I hit the floor, arms clamp around my waist.

“Shit. You good?” His voice is like rough velvet caressing my skin.

My blurry eyes meet his dark ones as Axel spins me to face him.

“I—I think so,” I manage, rubbing my nose and checking for blood.

The heat of his palm against my cheek makes it hard to breathe. He’s too close. His body heat rolls off him in waves, suffocating and magnetic. I feel pinned even though he isn’t holding me anymore.

“What the fuck were you doing behind the door?” His tone switches to irritated, but it’s laced with something gentler that makes it all the more confusing.

“I wasaboutto open it,” I deadpan. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Why the fuck would I knock?” he scoffs, stepping back just enough to give me space, but not enough to feel safe.