Chapter 2

I woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and dark circles under my eyes. Those sounds from last night kept replaying in my head. Every time I'd started to drift off, I'd hear that agonized groaning again.

Maybe Sofia was right. Maybe I was being paranoid.

But as I brushed my teeth, I kept glancing toward the Carter house through my bathroom window. Everything looked normal in daylight. Just a regular two-story house with a big backyard.

I made coffee and positioned myself at my kitchen window. If I was going to walk into some kind of dangerous situation later, I wanted to know what I was dealing with.

At 7 AM sharp, the back door opened.

A man walked out, and my coffee mug nearly slipped from my hands. He was huge, easily 6'1", with dark hair and the kind of build that screamed fighter. But what made me gasp were the marks all over his arms and face.

Fresh bruises. Scratches. A cut on his eyebrow that looked recent.

Holy shit. This guy looked like he'd been in a war. Or several wars.

He stretched casually, like having a face full of injuries was totally normal, then jogged toward the street. I ducked away from the window, heart pounding.

That had to be Diesel. One of the family members I'd read about in reviews.

The rational part of my brain tried to find innocent explanations. Maybe he's a stunt performer? A professional fighter? But combined with last night's sounds, it painted a pretty dark picture.

I waited until he was completely out of sight, then grabbed my keys. Time for some reconnaissance.

The fence between our properties was low enough that I could see into their backyard. I walked along the edge, pretending to check my mailbox while sneaking glances over.

What I saw made my blood run cold.

Thick ropes hung from tree branches. Heavy chains were coiled on the ground. There were metal contraptions I couldn't identify, but they looked medieval. Torture-device medieval.

What the hell kind of gym was this?

I crept closer to the fence. Near their back patio, I spotted dark stains on the concrete. They looked suspiciously like blood.

My hands started shaking. This wasn't a gym. This was some kind of... fight club? Torture chamber?

But then I remembered Jaxon's message. His perfect smile in those photos. The professional tone of his content.

Could someone who looked that innocent really be involved in something this dark?

I spent the rest of the morning googling everything I could find about the Carter family. The results were frustratingly normal. Rex Carter, former military. Stella Carter, dance instructor. Some mentions of local fitness training, but nothing that screamed "underground violence ring."

By 2 PM, I was seriously considering canceling. I'd drafted the text at least five times: Sorry, something came up.

But every time I tried to send it, I'd think about Jaxon's eyes in those photos. The way he'd reached out to me specifically. The potential for amazing content if this was legitimate.

Plus, what if I was completely wrong? What if they really were just intense trainers and I was ruining a great opportunity because of my overactive imagination?

At 2:45, I changed into my best athletic wear and walked next door.

The house looked even more normal up close. Fresh paint, well-maintained yard, a sign by the door that read "Carter Family Fitness - By Appointment Only."

I knocked, and within seconds, the door opened.

Jesus.

Jaxon Carter was even more gorgeous in person. The photos hadn't captured the way his green eyes lit up when he smiled, or how his t-shirt clung to his chest in all the right places. He had that perfect balance of rugged and approachable that made my knees feel weak.

"Maya! Right on time." His voice was warm honey with just a hint of roughness. "Welcome to our place."

"Thanks for meeting with me," I managed, hoping I sounded more professional than I felt.

"Of course. I've been following your content for a while now. Your approach to fitness is exactly what we're looking for in a partnership."

He'd been following me? That should have felt creepy given my suspicions, but instead, it sent a little thrill through me.

"Come on, let me introduce you to the family."

He led me through a normal-looking living room toward the back of the house. Family photos lined the walls. Everything screamed wholesome American family.

Maybe I really had been overthinking this.

"Dad!" Jaxon called out. "Maya's here!"

A man emerged from what looked like a kitchen, and I immediately recognized the voice from last night. Rex Carter was shorter than his son but built like a tank. Military bearing, serious expression, the kind of presence that commanded respect.

"Nice to meet you, Maya. Jax has told us a lot about your work." His handshake was firm but not crushing.

This was the man who'd been shouting "You're worthless" last night. Up close, he seemed stern but not violent. More drill sergeant than psychopath.

"Mom's in the studio," Jaxon explained, leading me toward a converted garage. "She's prepping for evening classes."

Stella Carter was stretching when we walked in, and she moved with the grace of someone who'd spent decades perfecting her body. She was beautiful in that ageless way dancers often had, with kind eyes and an elegant smile.

"Maya! So lovely to meet you. Jaxon's been excited about this collaboration all week."

Her warmth seemed genuine, but something about her smile made me think she was analyzing me. Like she could see right through my nervous energy.

"And here's my brother Diesel," Jaxon said as footsteps approached.

The man from this morning appeared, and seeing him up close was even more shocking. The bruises were darker than they'd looked from a distance. There was a fresh cut on his jaw that definitely hadn't been there yesterday.

"Hey there. Sorry about the battle damage. Had a particularly intense session last night."

He said it so casually, like showing up covered in injuries was completely normal.

Session. That was an interesting word choice.

"Diesel teaches our more... advanced clients," Jaxon explained. "The ones who really want to push their limits."

Push their limits. The way he said it made my skin crawl.

"Want to see the facilities?" Jaxon asked.

I nodded, though every instinct was screaming at me to run.

The basement was where things got really weird. The walls were lined with equipment I didn't recognize. Heavy bags hung from the ceiling alongside those ropes I'd seen outside. There were contraptions that looked like medieval torture devices but with modern padding.

"This is where the magic happens," Jaxon said proudly.

The walls were covered with before-and-after photos, but they were too far away for me to make out details. In the dim lighting, they looked ominous. Like documentation.

"What's in all these?" I asked, pointing to shelves lined with bottles and containers.

"Supplements, protein powders, recovery drinks. Dad's pretty particular about nutrition."

The bottles had handwritten labels I couldn't read clearly. Some looked pharmaceutical. Others just looked suspicious.

"And this is where you'd be training if you decide to work with us," Jaxon said, gesturing to a cleared area in the center.

Training. Right in the middle of what looked like a torture chamber.

But the way Jaxon talked about everything was so normal. So professional. He explained different pieces of equipment with genuine enthusiasm, demonstrated proper form, discussed training philosophy like any legitimate trainer would.

Was I losing my mind? Was this actually just a really intense family gym?

"So what do you think?" he asked as we finished the tour.

"It's... impressive," I said honestly. The setup was definitely professional, even if it looked terrifying.

We walked back upstairs, and I was starting to feel foolish about my suspicions. Maybe those sounds last night really had been legitimate training. Maybe Diesel's injuries were from competitive fighting. Maybe I'd watched too many true crime documentaries.

Jaxon walked me toward the front door, and I was almost convinced I'd been paranoid about nothing.

Then he turned to me with that perfect smile and said, "Want to try a trial workout? I can give you a personal session right now."

Every alarm bell in my head started ringing again. Right now. Alone. In that basement.

But looking into his green eyes, feeling the warmth radiating from his body, seeing that genuine excitement on his face...

My brain said danger.

My heart said yes.