The dim glow of the laptop screen casts long shadows across my room, its light the only thing breaking through the darkness. I sit at my desk, leaned back in my chair, scrolling through page after page of information.
Paige Taylor.
Her face stares back at me from an image on the screen, younger but unmistakably her. In the photo, she’s seated at a long table in a dimly lit room, surrounded by men twice her age. She can’t be more than fifteen, but her posture is rigid, her expression careful–calm, composed, like she already knows the stakes of being there.
In every picture I find, it’s the same. Paige in boardrooms, meeting halls, back–alley gatherings that make the Vipers‘ dealings look like playground scraps. Always outnumbered, always out of place.
But she’s still there.
I scroll further, past the pictures, into the scattered reports and whispers about her father, Marcus Taylor. An important man of the Crimson Circle. Ruthless. Intelligent. Untouchable. He’d used his daughter as a tool, shaping her into a translator, a negotiator, a weapon in her own way.
Fluent in over twenty languages. Able to hold her own in negotiations with gangs twice as large, twice as powerful.
She’s not like the others.
But there’s a line between strength and control, and Marcus blurred it completely. It’s all here, in black and white. Her entire life has been orchestrated, every move dictated by the man who should’ve protected her.
The faint creak of my door opening pulls my attention away, but I don’t close the laptop. I know who it is before he even speaks.
“Man, what’s got you locked away up here?” Silas’s voice is light, almost mocking, as he strolls in. He’s tossing a football in one hand, catching it effortlessly in the other.
I lean back in my chair, glancing at him briefly before returning to the screen. “What do you want, Silas?”
He ignores the question, stepping closer until he can see the laptop. “Oh.” A grin spreads across his face, his tone shifting to something teasing. “You’re reading up on little Miss Taylor, huh?”
“Why do you care?” I ask flatly, not bothering to look at him this time.
“Just curious.” He tosses the ball again, catching it with a soft thud. “You’ve been brooding about her since she got here. It’s weird.”
I scowl, my fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. “I’m not brooding.”
“Sure.” Silas leans against the wall, his grin widening. “So, what are you looking at? Her school grades? Her favorite color? Trying to figure out what makes her tick?”
I ignore him, my eyes scanning the next article.
“Fine, don’t tell me.” He bounces the ball again, letting it hit the wall with a dull thud before catching it. “Anyway, why are you wasting time on her? She’s as good as dead in a week, and you know it.”
Something tightens in my chest, and I push it down, locking it away. “Where’s her mother?” I ask instead, my voice calm, even.
Silas pauses mid–toss, the ball resting in his hand. He blinks at me, caught off guard, before raising an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
I glance at him, my gaze narrowing. “Obviously not.”
A faint chuckle escapes him as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Bro, her dad killed her mom. Like, way back when Paige was just a baby. You really didn’t know that?”
I don’t react, but the words land like a punch. I sit back in my chair, staring at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
Silas shrugs, his tone casual, like he’s talking about the weather. “Apparently, her mom wanted out. She’d had enough of the gang life–wanted to take Paige and disappear. But you know Marcus. He wasn’t about to let his wife–or his kid–walk away.”
“And he killed her for it,” I say, the words flat, emotionless.
“Yep,” Silas says, tossing the ball again, spinning it idly in his hands. “Right in front of a couple of his men. Shot her, dumped the body, and told everyone she betrayed him. Clean, simple, effective.”
The room feels colder, the weight of his words settling over me like a storm cloud.
Silas tilts his head, watching me with that same infuriating grin. “Why so interested in her, lax? You starting to feel bad for the poor little princess? Gonna be her knight in shining
armor?”
I glare at him, my tone sharp. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Chapter 22: Jaxon
“Right.” Silas smirks, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. “Well, don’t lose sleep over her, man. She’s just another piece in the game.”
He disappears down the hall, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.
I sit there for a long moment, staring at the screen, at the pictures of Paige that feel heavier now than they did before.
Just another piece in the game.
If only it were that simple.
I stare at the screen, the image of Paige in that dimly lit meeting room frozen in place. Her face–calm, composed, but so out of place–glares back at me, a reminder of just how deep she’s been in this world for so long.
The pieces are starting to fit together. Marcus Taylor isn’t just ruthless–he’s calculated, the kind of man who’d eliminate his own wife without hesitation to maintain control. A man who’d raise his daughter in blood and betrayal because it benefits him.
It makes me wonder how much Paige knows. How much she’s seen.
I lean back in my chair, letting the weight of it all sink in. Marcus wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to her. He practically said it on the call. He doesn’t care about her–she’s expendable, replaceable, nothing more than a tool to him.
And then there’s my family.
The Black Vipers always said the Crimson Circle was responsible for my parents‘ deaths. Marcus may not have pulled the trigger himself, but if he didn’t, he knows who did. That kind of information doesn’t get lost in a world like this. Men like Marcus keep those kinds of secrets close–leverage, power.
And if Marcus knows, there’s a chance Paige does too.
I stare at her picture, my jaw tightening. She’s been at every meeting. She’s heard every deal, every threat, every confession. She’s seen the faces, learned the names, memorized the details.
If anyone knows what happened that night, it’s her.
The problem is, I don’t know if Paige is an accomplice or just another victim.
Either way, she has answers. And I intend to get them.
One way or another.
