Chapter 5 Breach - 5

• Chapter Five: What We Never Said
• Cain didn’t answer.
• He squeezed the tube of ointment instead, focusing on the wound, not the man.
• “You disappeared the night before my engagement,” Saxon continued. “Didn’t call. Didn’t warn me. I waited for you. And you didn’t show.”
• “I had to go,” Cain said.
• “No, you chose to go.”
• Cain leaned back on his heels, jaw locked. “I was ordered to leave. By your father.”
• Saxon’s eyes darkened. “He hated you.”
• “He was right to.”
• Saxon sat up—wincing slightly, but defiant.
• “No,” he said. “He hated that I loved you.”
• Cain’s hand froze mid-air.
• Those words… landed like gunfire. Deep. Clean. Devastating.
• “You were the only real thing in my life,” Saxon said, voice quieter now. “And you let him scare you off.”
• Cain’s mouth opened.
• Then closed.
• He stood, walked to the window, shoved a hand through his hair.
• “I didn’t want you dead,” he said finally.
• Saxon blinked. “What?”
• Cain turned, voice hoarse. “He told me if I didn’t leave, he’d make you disappear. He already had a plan in motion. An overdose. A setup. Something clean.”
• Saxon swallowed.
• “He threatened to kill me?”
• Cain nodded once.
• “I made a deal. I vanished, and you lived.”
• Saxon stood slowly, blood draining from his face. “And you didn’t think I deserved to know?”
• “I thought disappearing would hurt less than watching them put you in the ground.”
• A long silence stretched between them.
• Then Saxon crossed the room, fists clenched at his sides.
• “Do you know what it did to me?” he asked, voice breaking. “Do you know how fucked up I got trying to find you? How many people I threatened—how many times I almost blew my own brains out because I thought I’d hallucinated all of it?”
• Cain’s throat tightened. “I thought I was saving you.”
• “You destroyed me.”
• The words hit harder than any blade ever had.
• Cain’s hands shook.
• “I’m sorry,” he said.
• Saxon blinked.
• And for the first time—really looked at him.
• Cain wasn’t the hardened machine he pretended to be. Not now. Not here.
• He was a man coming apart.
• And Saxon? He’d been shattered for years.
• They were both ghosts in each other’s chests.
• Saxon stepped forward, stopped right in front of him, and touched his wrist.
• “Take me apart again,” he whispered. “But don’t leave this time.”
• Cain’s eyes burned.
• And then—
• He kissed him.
• Slow. Devastating. Tender.
• Saxon responded with the same broken desperation—lips soft, hands firm, clinging. There was no dominance here. No punishment. Just want.
• Cain cupped his jaw, kissed him deeper, hands mapping every bruise he’d left behind.
• They moved to the bed slowly—carefully.
• Saxon climbed into his lap, straddling him, breath warm against Cain’s neck.
• “Make me feel real,” he whispered.
• Cain nodded, voice rough. “I will.”
• He undressed him slowly this time. Reverently. Like Saxon was something to be rediscovered. Memorized. Worshipped.
• Cain’s hands ran down his thighs, up his chest, over his ribs—pausing on the scar he’d left years ago with a single rough night and too much whiskey.
• Saxon’s eyes fluttered shut. “You ruined me.”
• Cain kissed the scar. “You ruined me first.”
• He kissed him again.
• And then he pushed inside—slowly, carefully, with the kind of control that felt like breaking glass.
• Saxon wrapped his arms around Cain’s shoulders and whispered his name like it was a confession.
• Cain rocked into him, over and over, watching his face change with each thrust—pain, relief, surrender, love.
• Saxon cried out once—raw, soft.
• Cain kissed him through it.
• Their foreheads pressed. Their breath mingled. The rhythm built—sweet. Filthy. Deep.
• Saxon moaned, “Don’t stop—please, Cain—don’t ever stop—”
• Cain didn’t.
• Not until they both came, trembling in each other’s arms, shaking from more than just orgasm.
• They stayed like that for a long time.
• Wrapped in warmth. In silence. In everything they never said.
• ⸻
• 04:20 A.M.
• Saxon stirred beneath the sheets, cheek resting on Cain’s chest.
• “Do you still love me?” he asked softly.
• Cain didn’t hesitate.
• “Yes.”
• Saxon exhaled, like he hadn’t breathed in years.
• Cain kissed his forehead.
• And for once, they both fell asleep.
• Together.
• ⸻
• Somewhere else…
• The man on the phone listened carefully.
• “They’re together now,” the voice said. “More than before.”
• There was a pause, then—
• “Good,” said the other. “Let him get attached. We’ll take him when it hurts the most.”
• ⸻
• 11:33 A.M.
• Cain was halfway through his routine perimeter check when the security feed flickered—then flashed to camera 14.
• East garden.
• And there he was.
• Saxon.
• Leaning too damn close to Luca—the pretty, ex-marine with soft hands and a jawline that looked like it was sculpted for sin. Luca was holding a tablet. Saxon was laughing.
• Then he touched his forearm.
• Lingering. Smiling.
• Cain’s vision blurred red.
• He stormed out of the surveillance room and didn’t stop walking until he hit the glass doors leading to the garden.
• His boots hit the stone path like thunder.
• ⸻
• 11:38 A.M.
• Saxon looked up at the sound of his name.
• “Cain—”
• “Inside,” Cain snapped. His voice held no space for argument.
• Saxon raised an eyebrow. “I’m not done here.”
• Cain’s jaw ticked. “Now.”
• Luca cleared his throat, awkwardly stepping back. “Uh, I should—”
• “You should shut the fuck up and go back to post,” Cain said without turning.
• Luca froze.
• Saxon’s gaze narrowed. “He didn’t do anything.”
• “He breathed too close to you.”
• Cain stepped forward, grabbed Saxon by the wrist—not enough to hurt, just enough to command—and pulled him toward the house.
• ⸻
• 11:42 A.M.
• Cain’s private quarters.
• The door slammed shut.
• Saxon spun to face him, chest rising. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
• Cain’s voice was a growl. “What the fuck were you doing with him?”
• Saxon scoffed. “You told me to act normal. That was me acting normal.”
• “You touched him.”
• “So?” Saxon snapped. “You touch me harder.”
• Cain stepped closer. “You were flirting.”
• “I was testing you.”
• Cain froze.
• Saxon’s eyes flared with heat. “And guess what, soldier? You failed.”
• Cain’s breath caught.
• Then he grabbed Saxon by the throat and slammed him up against the wall.
• Not to hurt. To hold.
• To show him who he fucking belonged to.
• “You like playing games?” Cain hissed.
• Saxon smirked. “I like when you lose.”
• Cain’s hand dropped to Saxon’s belt.
• “Then you’re about to fucking win.”