Page 57 of The Vagabond

SAXON

I wake before the sun comes up.

The cabin is quiet — the kind of quiet that makes your skin itch when you’ve lived long enough on the wrong side of survival.

For a moment, I lie there, eyes closed, holding her against me. I could pretend I don’t know what today is. Pretend I won’t have to let go. Pretend I’m not already bleeding inside from the choice I’ve made. But pretending doesn’t change a goddamn thing.

I press a kiss to her hair, breathing her in like it’s the last time — because it is, at least for now. Then I slip out of bed, out from under the warmth of her body, and step into the cold.

The sun’s not up yet, but the sky’s already hinting at dawn, bruised and gray at the edges. I stand at the edge of the porch, hands curled into fists, jaw clenched tight. I know what I have to do. Maxine’s going to hate me for it, but there is no other choice.

She knows I’ll burn my life down for her, walk with her into the fire, no matter the cost. I fucking would. But that’s the problem. Because the Bureau has already painted a target on my back .

My clearance is gone. My name is being whispered in halls I used to command. I’m not just an agent anymore — I’m a liability, a fugitive in the making.

And Maxine? She deserves more than a man who’s about to drown in his own wreckage.

So today, I’m breaking her heart. I’m taking her back. Because I have to clear my name, rebuild my life, and come back to her clean. Come back whole. She deserves that, at the very least.

When I step back inside, she’s stirring — sitting up, blinking blearily, pulling my sweater tight around herself like it can hold her together.

God, she looks small in this light. Small and breakable and perfect.

“Where were you?” she asks softly.

I cross the room, crouch in front of her, brush her hair from her face. Her eyes search mine, wide, anxious. I cup her cheek, thumb sweeping under her eye.

“We’re going home,” I say.

She flinches slightly, confusion flickering across her face.

“What?”

I swallow hard, jaw tight.

“I need to take you back, Max.”

Her breath stutters.

“No. Saxon, I?—”

“I have to.”

I press my forehead to hers, eyes squeezed shut, hands trembling as I hold her face.

“I can’t do this right, not with you here, not when you’re all I see, all I want. I can’t protect you and fix this at the same time. I need to put my shit back together so I can come back to you — the way you deserve.”

She shakes her head, tears glinting in her eyes .

“I don’t care?—”

“I do,” I whisper fiercely. “I care. I need you safe, Maxine. I need you somewhere they can’t reach, somewhere the Bureau can’t use you against me. And I need to know when I come back for you, I’m coming back as a man who can stand by your side. Not a man running for his life.”

Her hands clutch at my arms, voice breaking.

“Saxon, please?—”

“I love you,” I say, cutting through her panic, my voice cracking wide open. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. And I’m doing this because I won’t let you watch me fall apart piece by piece. I will not drag you down with me.”

She crumples into me, shaking, sobbing. I hold her, burying my face in her neck, burning the smell of her skin into memory.

“I’ll come back to you,” I whisper. “But not until this is over. I swear it, Maxine.”

The drive back is quiet, heavy. She sits beside me, staring out the window, fists clenched in her lap, the pain written in every stiff line of her body.

When we pull up to the Gatti estate, I kill the engine, staring straight ahead.

“Your sister’s waiting,” I murmur, voice low, cracked, barely holding.

Maxine turns, slow, deliberate, her hands fisted at her sides, her breath shaking so hard it looks like her body might break under the weight of it.

Her eyes — God, those eyes — lock on mine, shimmering with unshed tears, glassy with heartbreak she’s trying to choke back.

“That’s it?” she whispers, voice sharp, thin, trembling like a blade pressed against my throat. “You’re just going to leave me here? Walk away… again?”

I suck in a breath, chest heaving, fingers curling tight at my sides.

“It’s only for?—”

She cuts me off — a flick of her hand, a shake of her head, her ice-blue gaze slamming into me so hard it shreds something deep in my chest.

“Don’t,” she rasps. “Don’t you dare lie to me right now.”

And fuck — I see it. The devastation. The shatter.

The way her heart is fracturing in real time, piece by piece, sharp edge by sharp edge.

And the worst part? I can’t even say I don’t feel the same.

Because I do. I’m burning alive from the inside out, suffocating on every word I want to say and every word I can’t.

My jaw clenches, my throat tight, my whole body straining like I’m holding back a scream. But I can’t take it back. I won’t take it back. Because walking away is the only move I have left to save her from the wreck I’ve become.

Her breath hitches, a sharp, ragged sound that cuts through the air like a gunshot.

“You said you’d never let me go,” she whispers, voice splintering. “You said you’d always come for me.”

I reach for her — and stop myself. Hand hovering midair. Fingers shaking.

“I will,” I breathe. “I will come back for you, Maxine.”

But her head shakes, her lips tremble, and I see it — the moment she stops believing me. The moment she realizes I’m not just breaking her heart. I’m breaking us .

And God help me — I know I deserve every fucking ounce of her fury.

She stares at me for one more breath — one long, shattering breath — and then she gets out of the car without a second glance.

There’s no goodbye and no soft words. Just the sharp pull of her shoulders, the stiff set of her jaw, the way her fists clench at her sides as she walks away from me, through the Gatti compound gates, toward her sister.

And I sit there. Frozen. Dying inside.

My fists curl so tight my knuckles crack. My chest heaves, my throat burns, and every part of me screams to run after her, to crush her against me, to promise her I’ll never let her go.

But I don’t move. Because this — this is the price. This is the fucking price I have to pay.

I watch her reach the door, watch Mia pull her into her arms, see the way Maxine crumbles against her sister’s chest, shaking, breaking, trying to hold herself together while I sit here like a fucking ghost.

The door closes behind her, and it feels like the world slamming shut in my face.

I drag in a breath, jaw clenched so tight it sends a sharp ache up the side of my skull. My heart thuds a sick, heavy rhythm in my chest, each beat a hammer blow against bone.

I force myself to turn away from the house, from her . To put my foot to the gas, and drive. Down the gravel path. Through the gate. Away from her.

My hands grip the wheel, white-knuckled, shaking, and for one brutal second, I press my forehead to the leather, eyes squeezed shut, and let the silent, gutted roar inside me tear me to pieces.

Because I’m not just leaving her.

I’m leaving the only thing that’s ever made me believe I could be more than the man I’ve become.

I don’t look back. I can’t look back. If I do, I’ll break.

But as the city rises up in the distance, as the lights sharpen and the weight of the world starts crashing down again, one thing burns through the fog in my mind, clear and sharp and absolute: I will fucking fight for the right to stand beside her again.

The only way I can be the man she deserves is if I face the storm alone.

Because everyone has a price to pay. And I’m ready to pay mine. For her. For us. For the future I refuse to give up on.