Chapter 12 Sophie and Jaxon

After the Mayor's final words, the crowd erupted into murmurs. Reporters surged forward, bombarding him with questions. Surrounded by his bouncers, the Mayor stood, descended the short flight of stairs, and exited through a side door.

Across the city, unrest spread like wildfire. Voices clashed in anger, speculation filling the air. In a dimly lit room, Milo and Jaxon watched it all unfold on Milo's tablet. Jaxon's brows furrowed, his fingers pressing against the bridge of his nose.

Milo scoffed. "How the hell could he say something like that?"

Jaxon exhaled sharply. "Just when things were finally looking up, this happens."

"You have to keep going," Milo urged.

Jaxon slowly turned his head, his eyes locking onto Milo's. A beat of silence passed. Then, a smirk ghosted his lips.

"What made you think I'd stop?"

A sharp grin spread across Milo's face.

"How much intel do you have on that Belmont guy?" Jaxon asked.

"Not much. Why?"

Jaxon exhaled, his gaze distant. "I don't know… Something about him feels off. And I have no idea how he's going to respond to this. I don't trust him."

Milo leaned back, arms crossed. "Sorry, but I don't have much on him. He's a pretty decent guy, you know. No real reason to doubt him." He trailed off, his eyes shifting upward as a realization dawned. "But now that I think about it… it is kinda weird. His own unveiling ceremony got attacked, and he hasn't said a word about it? That doesn't make sense."

"Exactly. And I don't think he's the type to just sit back and do nothing. He's up to something," Jaxon said. "But first, I need more intel on him."

Milo scoffed. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

Jaxon turned his head slowly, locking eyes with him. A smirk played on his lips.

Milo frowned, shifting uncomfortably. "What?"

A few moments later…

Sophie stood at her locker, a pink sweater draped around her neck. She balanced a stack of books in her left arm while pulling out the last one. With a gentle push, she shut the locker—only for it to jam.

Her brows furrowed as she tugged at the door, realizing a part of her sweater was caught. She gave it another pull. No luck. Sighing, she rolled her eyes upward in frustration.

"Need some help?"

She jolted slightly at the unexpected voice. Turning, she found Jaxon standing nearby, watching her.

Her gaze locked onto his face, drawn in as if by some unseen force. For a moment, she couldn't look away.

Without a word, Jaxon gripped the locker handle and gave it a firm yank. The door popped open effortlessly. "There," he said, his eyes meeting hers.

Sophie quickly averted her gaze. "Thanks," she muttered, already stepping away.

"Wait."

She hesitated, then slowly turned back. "What?"

Jaxon shifted slightly. "About last time… I was staring at you too much. You were right. I'm sorry."

Sophie studied him, her eyes scanning his face, searching for anything insincere—but there was nothing. Just honesty.

"It's okay," she said at last. "I probably shouldn't have spoken to you that way either. I'm sorry too."

Jaxon gave a small nod. "Cool. I'm Jaxon, by the way." He extended his hand.

Sophie regarded him for a moment before finally shaking it. "Sophie."

Her fingers, smooth and delicate, curled around his rougher, calloused palm—a stark contrast, yet oddly fitting.

Their grips released but their eyes still locked. 

"I should probably get going now."

Jaxon smiled. "Yeah. See you around Sophie."

****

Jaxon entered the classroom, his presence blending into the background as the usual chatter continued. He made his way to the back, sliding into his seat beside Milo.

Milo immediately turned to him, eyes filled with curiosity. "So? How did it go?"

Jaxon let out a small breath—not one of frustration, but something else. "Let's just say… it's a work in progress. Did you take care of it?"

Milo smirked. "Wasn't exactly easy, but yeah, I handled it."

Jaxon nodded. "Good. Now, we wait."

Just then, the teacher walked in, her sharp presence silencing the room. A young woman with neatly cropped hair, she wasted no time getting to the point.

"For this next assignment, you'll be working in pairs on a group project. You'll choose one of the five topics I'm about to display, and whether you like your partner or not, you'll be stuck with them until it's finished. The deadline is in three days."

A murmur spread through the class as the teacher began listing names.

"Eli Vance and Celeste Monroe…"

Jaxon and Milo barely listened, their attention locked onto the moment they'd been waiting for.

"And last but not least… Sophie and Jaxon."

Sophie's eyes widened. Slowly, she turned her head back toward Jaxon, disbelief clear on her face.

Jaxon met her gaze with a cool smirk.

Sophie huffed and faced forward, exhaling a deep sigh of frustration.

****

A town near Gotham.

The room reeked of blood and gunpowder. Wooden floors, wooden walls—once sturdy, now stained with fresh carnage. A pool table stood in the corner, its surface cluttered with junk, discarded weapons, and bullet casings. Bodies—ten, maybe eleven—lay sprawled across the floor, blood seeping from lifeless forms.

Jack stood amidst the wreckage, one hand braced against the pool table, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Behind him, a lone survivor staggered to his feet, moving with painful slowness, a knife glinting in his trembling hand.

Shffft!

A thin red line carved across his throat—then, in a blink, his head popped free. Jack rematerialized before the falling corpse, his sword already mid-swing. A crimson spray burst forth, warm droplets speckling his face.

Thud.

The body collapsed, dead before it even hit the floor. Jack remained stil

l, his breaths ragged, jaw clenched tight with fury.

"Not here either," he muttered, voice laced with frustration.