Page 31 of Fallen Heir

The face was clean. Calm. Empty.

I didn’t recognize him. But I didn’t need to.

Ben’s next words twisted something in my chest.

“I ran his face through every federal and private database we’ve got access to. Clean as a whistle. It’s like he’s a fuckingghost.”

I stared at the image. Calm eyes. Sharp suit. Empty smile.

“But Savannah knows exactly who he is,” Ben added.

That was all I needed to hear.

“Fuck,” I muttered, the word low and bitter.

Because ifsheknew who he was…Then Bruce would knowwhereshe was. Ben didn’t look away from the photo. “Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right.” He tapped the edge of the print against his palm. “Savannah either knows more than she’s letting on… or she just knows this guy’s bad news.”

I stared at the face again. Calm. Cold. Untouchable.

It wasn’t just bad news. It was the kind that didn’t leave loose ends.

I didn’t sleep that night. I stared at my phone like it owed me answers. Tried to work. Poured a glass of whiskey. Read the same report three times. None of it helped.

The next morning, I gave in and texted her.

Jaxson:

Hey, just checking in.

How are you feeling today?

I stared at the message longer than I should have before hitting send. And then I waited. Minutes. Hours. No response.

By noon, I hadn’t gotten a single thing done. Ben and I spent the entire day tearing through everything we had—re-scanning facial recognition logs, tapping into closed club records,flipping contacts who owed us favors. It wasn’t until late Sunday evening that something finally cracked.

Ben shoved a printout toward me, eyes narrowed. “Got him.”

I grabbed it, eyes scanning the name at the top.

Alex Cox.

“Runs in dirty money circles—offshore holdings, shadow LLCs, high-stakes poker rooms, and God knows what else. But legally?” Ben shook his head. “Clean as a whistle. Background is spotless.”

My jaw clenched.

“He’s got the look,” I said flatly. “Too polished. Too precise.”

Ben nodded. “He’s not a frontman. He’s a closer.”

“And this one?” Ben continued, “He’s not sloppy. Not like Bruce. Bruce leaves crumbs—little mistakes we’ve picked up over time. But this guy? Alex Cox runs something bigger. And he runs it clean.”

“You think he’s got his own operation?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Ben nodded once. “He’s got his own empire, Jax. We’ve just never seen it because he doesn’t flaunt it. No ego. No noise. Just power.”

That made my stomach turn. Because men like Alex didn’t make threats. They made moves.

Ben slammed his hand on the table, sending one of the files skidding. “Goddammit. This is bigger than Bruce. You realize that, right? Bruce was sloppy. Left a trail. But this guy? Alex Cox doesn’t leave anything behind except ghosts. We’ve buried good people chasing men like this, Jax”