"I can't afford to be real. I have to be perfect. For Poppy." The pressure behind my eyes builds, tears threatening.
"Perfect is bullshit," Axel says bluntly. "Perfect is what Elliot demanded, right? Perfect obedience. Perfect wife. Perfect silence."
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"Fuck perfect." He leans closer, his eyes locked on mine.
"Be real instead. Be the mother who fought like hell to protect her daughter. Who ran when she had to. Who's brave enough to come back and face her worst fear. That's who the judge needs to see."
One tear slips before I can catch it. I move to swipe it away, but Axel is faster, his thumb capturing it with rough tenderness. His gaze pins me in place, unyielding. “You don’t get to fall apart alone, Sadie. Not while I’m here. I won't let you break," he says, and there’s something in his voice, a certainty, a promise, that reaches past all my defenses. "But if you do, I'll be right there to hold the pieces until you can put them back together."
The dam breaks then. Silent tears stream down my face, years of fear and loneliness and desperate courage finally finding release. I expect to feel ashamed, exposed. Instead, there's a strange relief in letting Axel see me like this, completely unguarded, completely real.
He doesn't try to stop my tears or offer empty platitudes. He simply holds my hand, his grip steady and warm, an anchorin the storm. When the flight attendant starts to approach, he shakes his head slightly, and she retreats, leaving us in our private bubble of grief and comfort.
"I'm sorry," I finally manage, wiping furiously at my tears.
"Don't apologize," Axel says, passing me a tissue from a hidden compartment in the armrest. "You've been holding it together for way too long."
I nod, unable to find words as I dry my face. The release of tension has left me strangely hollow, like a vessel emptied of everything but pure, distilled fear.
The captain's voice crackles over the intercom, announcing our approach into Portland. The descent makes my stomach lurch, the physical sensation matching my spiraling emotions.
"Almost there," Axel says, checking that Poppy's car seat is secure. She's awake now, watching the clouds outside the window with wide-eyed fascination.
I force myself to breathe, to focus on the practicalities. Coat. Bags. Diaper change before we land. The familiar routine of motherhood steadies me slightly.
The plane banks left, and suddenly the landscape below is visible: dense evergreen forests, the glint of the Columbia River, and beyond that, the city where everything fell apart. My city, once. My prison, later.
"It's beautiful," Axel says, following my gaze.
"It's a lie," I whisper. "Everything here is."
The plane descends rapidly now, the ground rushing up to meet us. I grip the armrests, my knuckles white. Not from fear of flying, but fear of landing. Of setting foot on Oregon soil again.
The wheels hit the runway with a jolt. The engines reverse thrust, pressing me back into my seat as we decelerate. Through the window, I see the private hangar approaching, nondescript, gray, with a black SUV waiting on the tarmac.
"Ready?" Axel asks as the plane taxis to a stop.
I'm not. I'll never be ready for this. But I nod anyway, unbuckling my seat belt with trembling fingers.
The cabin door opens, and immediately I'm hit with the smell: pine, damp earth, that distinctive Oregon petrichor that's embedded in my memory. The air is cooler than Colorado, heavier with moisture. The light is different too, softer, filtered through permanent cloud cover.
"I've got the bags," Axel says, gesturing for me to take Poppy.
I lift her from the car seat, holding her close as I approach the door. The security team descends first, scanning the area before signaling it's safe. One of them waits at the bottom of the stairs, eyes constantly moving, hand inside his jacket where I know a weapon rests.
Each step down feels like walking to my own execution. My legs move automatically, muscle memory taking over while my mind screams to turn back, to run, to hide. But there's nowhere to hide anymore. This ends here, one way or another.
Poppy squirms in my arms, uncomfortable with my tension. I force myself to loosen my grip, to breathe normally for her sake.
The tarmac is wet from recent rain, puddles reflecting the gray sky. Two men in airport uniforms watch from a distance, their expressions professional but curious. Not Elliot's people, Axel's security has confirmed that, just regular staff wondering about the private jet and its passengers.
Axel stays close behind me, his presence a solid wall of protection at my back. He doesn't touch me, doesn't crowd me, just remains within reach. Somehow, he knows exactly what I need without my having to say it.
The SUV waits, engine running, windows tinted black. The driver opens the rear door as we approach, revealing a car seat already installed for Poppy.
"Everything's secure," he says to Axel. "Route's been confirmed clear."
