Two armed robbers approached Marcus with tactical precision, their weapons gleaming under fluorescent light.

“Time for your interview,” one announced, reaching for Marcus’s arm.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Marcus declared, backing against his security station.

The rifle butt connected with his stomach with brutal efficiency. Marcus doubled over, gasping for air as pain exploded through his core.

“Move,” the robber commanded, dragging Marcus toward the loan office as he writhed in agony.

Addison guided Jaxon away from the violence, her gentle touch leading him to the marble wall where corporate luxury met cold reality. Jaxon slumped to the floor, his executive dignity abandoned as exhaustion claimed his bruised frame.

Blood trickled from his split lip, painting his chin with evidence of territorial warfare. Purple shadows bloomed across his cheekbone where Wyatt’s military training had overwhelmed corporate fitness.

“Jaxon,” she whispered, settling beside him on cold marble.

Silence stretched between them like a battlefield after an explosion. Jaxon stared at the office door where Marcus had disappeared, processing revelations that threatened everything he’d built.

Addison tore silk from her dress hem, the fabric yielding to desperate need for tenderness amid chaos. She pressed the makeshift bandage to his bleeding mouth with careful precision.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, studying wounds that marked her failure to choose between impossible loyalties. “This is my fault.”

“Don’t,” Jaxon said quietly, his voice muffled by swollen lips.

“You’re hurt because of me—”

“I’m hurt because I fought for you,” he corrected with steel threading his voice. “I’d do it again.”

She dabbed blood from his cheek, her fingers tracing damage that would scar his executive perfection. Each mark was evidence of love transformed into violence.

“I should have told you about him,” she continued with a voice breaking under accumulated guilt. “About what we had. I’m ashamed of how I feel—”

“Stop,” Jaxon interrupted with gentle authority that cut through her confession. “I love you.”

The declaration struck like lightning in the charged atmosphere.

“I remember your story,” Jaxon continued with tender recognition. “The months it took before you could smile without pain. It was like part of your soul had been torn away.”

His hand found hers with warmth that anchored her against an emotional storm.

“But you learned to love me,” he said with quiet conviction. “I feel it in my heart. In how you respond to my touch. In how you chose to carry my child.”

His palm moved to her stomach with reverent gentleness that made tears stream down her cheeks.

“I understand your confusion,” Jaxon whispered with compassion that blazed through his bruised features. “He was your first love. But I’m your future. Me and this baby—we’re your real family.”

Addison couldn’t form words around the emotion crushing her chest. She collapsed against him, sobbing with relief and terror intertwined.

“I want to believe you,” she whispered against his shoulder. “But if what he says is true—”

“It’s not true,” Jaxon declared with fierce conviction. “Whatever evidence he thinks he has, whatever accusations he’s making—I’m not a killer.”

Rose approached with supplies balanced carefully, her tactical awareness evident in how she assessed their emotional state.

“You need hydration,” she announced, placing water bottles and crackers within reach. “Both of you should rest while you can.”

“My turn,” Sarah said with resignation as robbers approached for her interrogation.

Time crawled through parental testimonies. Civilian conversation created islands of normalcy where love for children transcended everything else.

“Ms. Blackhawk.”

Brick’s massive frame loomed over their makeshift family gathering, his voice carrying official authority that shattered their protective bubble.

“Boss wants to see you.”

“Absolutely not,” Jaxon declared immediately, his territorial instincts exploding into protective fury. “She’s pregnant. She doesn’t get interrogated by that psychopath.”

“She goes willingly or we drag her,” Brick replied with mechanical precision.

“Jaxon, it’s okay,” Addison said softly, her hand finding his bruised cheek. “He won’t hurt me. I promise.”

“You don’t know what he wants—”

“I know I’ll be safe,” she repeated with quiet certainty that carried weight Jaxon couldn’t understand. “Trust me. I’ll be back soon.”

“Addison—”

“Watch over everyone,” she requested, pressing her lips to his forehead with tender reassurance. “I’ll be careful.”

She rose from the marble sanctuary, following Brick toward the office where Wyatt waited. Behind her, Jaxon watched with territorial fury and helpless recognition that she was walking toward the man who might steal everything he’d built with love, devotion, and three years of proving not every man abandoned what he claimed to treasure.

The loan office door closed with decisive finality, trapping her alone with ghosts from her past who still commanded dangerous pieces of her fractured heart.