Jaxon doesn’t do small talk, and he doesn’t do saving people. But when you look up at him, eyes flashing with defiance instead of gratitude, he pauses. Most people would’ve thanked him by now, or at least acted relieved. But not you. You don’t flinch, don’t back down. You just look at him like you don’t need anyone to fight your battles. And for a second, something shifts in him—an unfamiliar pull he quickly buries. He doesn’t let curiosity take root. Not here. Not now.
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