Page 33 of Shadows of Obsession

I nodded, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his words. I knew all too well the shadow of fear, the constant vigilance.

"I know what that feels like," I said softly, memories of my own past surfacing. "To always be looking over your shoulder. Waiting for the next attack."

My voice wavered, a tremor I couldn't quite conceal.

Our eyes met, a silent understanding passing between us. In that moment, the walls we'd built seemed to crumble, offering a rare glimpse of shared pain and resilience. It was fleeting, but it was real.

But just as quickly, Jaxon looked away, his expression shuttered once more. The walls snapped back into place.

"It's not something I like to talk about," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

I reached out, my hand hovering just above his arm. I paused, thinking better of it, and let my hand fall back to my side.

"I get it," I said, my voice steady but filled with compassion. "But I need you to know something, Jaxon. This tension between us, this constant push and pull, it can't go on. We're both friends with Connor, and like it or not, we're going to be around each other a lot. I think it's time we called a truce."

Jaxon's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion etched into his features.

"A truce?" he echoed, slowly repeating the word like it was foreign.

I nodded, lifting my chin and meeting his gaze head-on.

"Yes, a truce. I'm not asking for us to be best friends. But I am asking for us to be civil. To treat each other with respect and understanding, even when we don't see eye to eye."

The silence that followed felt endless. My heart pounded as I waited for his response. Jaxon's expression was unreadable. His eyes fixed on me with a mix of skepticism and something else I couldn't quite define.

Then, finally, he gave a slight nod.

"Alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his tone. "A truce it is."

Relief washed over me, a weight lifting from my shoulders. I allowed myself a small smile, cautious but genuine.

"Thank you," I said softly, gratitude filling my voice.

Jaxon shrugged, his gaze dropping back to his coffee. His shoulders, however, seemed to relax slightly, as if he'd been holding something too tightly. I noticed the subtle shift and felt encouraged by it. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

We sat for a long while, sipping coffee in a companionable silence. The afternoon light shifted, casting warm golden rays through the windows. I felt a flicker of hope, a whisper of possibility that maybe we could move forward together.

The peaceful moment shattered with a sudden commotion outside—a loud whinny, the sound of hooves, something crashing. My head snapped up, eyes wide with alarm as I glanced at Jaxon.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, my voice tight with concern. My heart hammered in my chest.

Jaxon nodded, his brow furrowed as he set his coffee mug down with a soft clink.

"It sounded like it came from out front," he said, rising from his stool and moving toward the door, his movements swift and purposeful.

I followed close behind, adrenaline pumping as we stepped out onto the porch. The sight that greeted us sent a jolt of fear through my veins, cold dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

Choco wasgone. The lead that had tethered him to the tree lay in a coiled heap on the ground. A silent, ominous testament to his absence.

"No," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "Choco!"

The name fell from my lips like a prayer—a desperate plea. My mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

I started toward the woods, my focus narrowing to one thought: Find him. But before I could take more than a step, Jaxon's hand shot out, grabbing my arm in a firm, not painful grasp.

"Anna, wait," Jaxon said, his voice low and urgent. His grip held me in place, grounding me. The look in his eyes was intense—a clear, silent warning.

I felt a wave of confusion mixed with fear.