Play with the Phantom: Chapter 15

Ari

The third morning at the house is worse than the first.I wake up groggy, my body too warm, my limbs stiff with a tension I can’t shake.Frustration.I spent last night alone—and I don’t know why that bothers me.It shouldn’t. It should be a relief.I swallow hard, trying to push the thought aside as I throw the covers off my body, but the discomfort lingers, itching beneath my skin.He didn’t come back last night.I tell myself I should be grateful that he didn’t come to my room again. That it means maybe——I can pretend it never happened. Maybe I imagined the way he had held me down, had groaned into my skin like he was worshipping me—like he was starving.maybeI stare up at the ceiling, breathing through the dull, frustrating ache between my legs. He’s screwing with me. Getting inside my head. And it’s working.I grab my laptop off the nightstand and pull up a search engine before I can second-guess myself.Maddox Cross.I hesitate before pressing search, but my finger moves before my mind can stop it.And then⁠—A headline.The blood drains from my face as I skim the first few lines. My pulse jumps, each beat a hammer against my ribs.The unexpected passing of Daniel Whittaker, president of GoldStar Health, has certainly sent shock waves through the corporate community and ignited important conversations. At just 53, his life came to a tragic end in his downtown San Diego penthouse this past Sunday. While there are whispers of foul play, law enforcement is still gathering details.Oh my god.I keep reading, my breath hitching as the words blur together.The investigation took a dramatic turn when Maddox Cross, 25, a former Marine turned security contractor, was arrested on charges of conspiracy and obstruction of justice. Cross allegedly accessed restricted areas of Whittaker’s office building on the night of the president’s death.Prosecutors claimed Cross was linked to an anonymous vigilante group targeting corrupt executives. Though there was insufficient evidence to convict Cross of murder, he was sentenced to 20 years in prison for his involvement in what authorities described as a “coordinated effort to intimidate corporate leaders.”Twenty years.The article is old, but the shock isn’t. I knew Maddox was in prison, knew Asher never spoke about it. But this?I skim the last lines, my hands trembling.While Whittaker’s death remains unsolved, public opinion remains divided. Some view Cross as a dangerous criminal, while others have branded him a modern-day Robin Hood, pointing to his history of aiding veterans and disadvantaged families. People have even given him a nickname:the Phantom.I can’t breathe.I scroll down, my fingers shaking as I click another article, one buried deeper in the search results. This one isn’t about Daniel Whittaker—it’s about Maddox.A brief profile of his life before the arrest.And that’s when I see it—a photo.The article is twenty years old, the quality grainy, but it’s him. A younger Maddox, standing in uniform, holding a little girl.My stomach drops.She can’t be more than two, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck, her head resting against his shoulder. She looks like she’s Lucia’s age. His expression isn’t the one I’ve come to know—the sharp smirks, the taunting grins. He’s softer here. His lips pressed to the little girl’s hair, his eyes closed like he’s breathing her in.Oh, god. The caption hits me like a punch.Maddox Cross, 23, pictured with his late daughter, Lila Cross, 2, during his final deployment.Late.Daughter.A rush of blood roars in my ears.There’s another photo—a woman this time. She’s beautiful. Warm brown eyes, a bright, easy smile. Her hand rests on Maddox’s chest, fingers curling over his heart.Elaine Cross, 23, beloved mother and wife, tragically passed away three weeks after her daughter in 2005.Holy. Fuck.My stomach twists, a painful, disorienting thing. All at once, the things he’s said to me start rearranging themselves in my mind.“You remind me of someone.”I think I’m going to be sick.I type in Elaine Cross, and multiple articles on tabloid websites pop up.Lila Cross. Four years old. Denied treatment by GoldStar Health. Passed away in a pediatric hospice. Elaine Cross. Found dead in her home three weeks later. Ruled a suicide.My vision tunnels.There’s another picture of the three of them, buried beneath a wall of text—an old family photo taken before everything fell apart. Maddox is younger in it, clean-shaven, dressed in his Marine Corps uniform, looking at the camera with the quiet, sure confidence of someone who still had a future. Elaine stands beside him, her arm looped through his. And then there’s Lila.A baby with chubby cheeks and Maddox’s sharp blue eyes.I stare at the screen until my vision blurs.I don’t know how long I sit there, my breaths coming too fast, my chest too tight. Because suddenly, Maddox isn’t just Asher’s dangerous older brother. He isn’t just the criminal, the convicted felon, the man who snuck into my room and ruined me in the dark.He’s a father who lost his daughter. A husband who buried his wife. A man who had everything ripped away from him before being locked in a cage for two decades.My stomach twists violently. I swallow against the lump in my throat, but it doesn’t move.This changes everything.This means I don’t know him at all.And yet a part of me wonders if I ever really knew Asher, either.I force myself to close the laptop, but the damage is done.Because now, when I look at Maddox, I won’t just see the smirking, cocky ex-felon who taunts me with promises he shouldn’t be making.I’ll see the man who buried his whole world.And I don’t know if that makes him more dangerous… or more human.As I shower and get ready, stepping into a yellow linen skirt and shirt combo that’s both elegant and casual, I tell myself that I need to keep the information to myself. Especially as I blow-dry my hair straight and pull it back into a ponytail, I don’t let my eyes skim down the outfit that Maddox chose for me. I don’t let my mind think of the way his eyes drank me in from the moment we met.But knowing this? Knowing what happened…It changes something.After spritzing some perfume on my neck, I wander downstairs. Asher is already at the dining table, half focused on his laptop, half picking at his breakfast.Hannah beams at me when I enter, already sipping her coffee from her usual spot.“Good morning, sweetheart.”I manage a small smile, but something feels off. The dull ache of the newly acquired information hangs heavy in my chest, and for some reason, the quiet normalcy of breakfast only makes it worse.I make my way toward the kitchen, intent on pouring myself some coffee, but freeze when I step through the archway.Maddox is there.He’s shirtless, a damp towel draped over his shoulder, sweat still clinging to his skin from whatever workout he just finished. His tattoos ripple over taut, lean muscle as he moves, stretching his arms overhead before reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water.The sight of him unsettles me.Not because I’m afraid.Because something hot coils in my stomach before I can stop it.My body remembers too easily—how firm he had been beneath my hands, how his breath had felt between my thighs.His sharp blue gaze flicks toward me as he cracks the water bottle open. A slow smirk curves his lips as he catches me staring.“See something you like, angel?”Heat slams into my cheeks, but I lift my chin. “You wish.”Maddox’s smirk is lazy, knowing. He sets the bottle down deliberately, like he has all the time in the world, like he’s already won. Then, he tilts his head just slightly, his voice low, smooth—a quiet threat wrapped in velvet.“Do I?”The words curl through the space between us, sinking into my skin like heat.My stomach drops.I should leave. I should say something cutting, something to shut him up. But my tongue is heavy, my brain useless. Plus, I can’t stop picturing the younger version of him. The happier, more carefree version.As if sensing my struggle, Maddox steps closer. Too close.The scent of him wraps around me—clean sweat, something woody, something distinctly him.I take a step back, he takes another forward.My breath hitches, my pulse unsteady.And then⁠—“Ari?”I jerk at the sound of Asher’s voice from the dining table. Maddox’s lips twitch like he’s amused at how easily I jumped.I clear my throat and step around him, grabbing my coffee without looking at him again.I watch him during breakfast, but Maddox doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t smirk, doesn’t push. But I feel him, the space between us thick with unspoken things.After breakfast, Otto suggests going into town. There’s a nearby overlook with a small marketplace within walking distance, an easy way to kill a few hours. While we walk over, I stay close to Asher—not because I want to, but because Maddox is watching me again. It’s as if he’s messing with me on purpose—ignoring me when I give him my attention, but only watching me when he knows I can’t look back.I’m used to avoiding him now. I did it perfectly yesterday, and he didn’t push. A pang of disappointment clangs through me as we meander through the stalls.It doesn’t matter—I’m not his, despite what he claims.The air is crisp, and the market is lively—vendors selling fresh fruit, handmade jewelry, little souvenirs. The overlook stretches into a breathtaking view of the ocean, the drop-off a sheer cliff.I reach for Asher’s hand, squeezing it three times as we walk to the overlook along the ocean a few hundred feet away. Hannah and Otto are telling me all about the islands visible in the distance, but I’m not really paying attention.The whole time, I can feel Maddox’s eyes on my back—waiting, watching, letting me stew in my own awareness of him. I pull my hand away from Asher and step close to the edge of the cliff. The breeze whips at my skirt, my heart skipping as a gust of wind nearly knocks me over.“Ari,” Asher’s voice cuts in sharply behind me.I glance back, catching his glare. “What?”His jaw tightens. “Be careful.”I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to fall, Asher. I’m just looking.”Turning back to the ocean, I inhale deeply, letting the salty air fill my lungs. The air is heavy with brine and warm sand, and I suddenly feel so relaxed. I’ve always loved the ocean. Not just because it’s beautiful, but because of what it represents. It feels… endless. Uncontrollable. . All things I was never allowed to be. Growing up, I had to be steady for my younger sisters. I had to be reliable. The calm in every storm. There was no room for chaos. No room for mistakes.WildNo room for me to just… be.But the ocean? It doesn’t care about expectations.It crashes. It swells. It devours and gives and takes without asking for permission.Maybe that’s why I always felt drawn to it.Because no matter how much I had to be in control everywhere else, here? Here, I can finally breathe.I open my eyes just as another large gust of wind catches me off guard⁠—And then I slip.The dirt beneath my feet crumbles faster than I can react, my balance vanishing as gravity yanks me forward.I scream, but the fall never comes⁠—Because Maddox grabs me.His hands lock around my waist, yanking me back against his chest with a sharp, commanding strength.My pulse slams against my ribs. My whole body trembles. I suck in an uneven breath, my chest heaving as I cling to his forearms.For a second, neither of us move.Then Maddox exhales, a slow, measured breath against my neck. “You really need to be more careful, angel.”I shudder, and his grip locks around me.Over my shoulder, I hear Asher huff. “Jesus, Ari. Can you not almost kill yourself for one second?”I pull away from Maddox, my breath still shaky as I turn to face Asher. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” I snap.Asher scowls.Maddox just smirks.And as I stand between them, my heart still hammering, I realize it wasn’t Asher who saved me. It wasn’t Asher who reacted first, who moved without thinking, who caught me before I could hit the jagged cliffs below.It was Maddox.Asher was too busy scolding me.Maddox was too busy making sure I was safe.