Page 18

“ W hat the fuck was that, Axel? Have you lost your goddamn mind?!” Griffen’s voice slices through the night as he follows me outside.

The cold air hits my face, a sharp contrast to the inferno raging inside me. I take a deep breath, trying to rein in the need for violence that’s burning through my veins. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles ache.

“Back the fuck off,” I growl, not bothering to look at him.

“No. Fuck you!” he snaps, as he closes in. “You just had me restrain your fucking wife while you branded her!”

“She’s not my wife. And it was necessary.”

“Necessary? Fucking hell.” He shoves me hard, and I stumble back, my shoulder hitting the fence. He’s in my face now, close enough that I can feel the heat of his anger. “Whatever she did, she didn’t deserve that!”

“She disobeyed me. She needed to learn her lesson.”

“That was a fucked-up move. Even for you.”

“You didn’t have a problem holding her down.” I glare at him, knowing damn well he’s just as ruthless as I am.

“Fuck. Off. Axe. I don’t know who the hell you are right now, but that shit was fucked up. That’s not how the Hawthornes handle things. I’ve got no problem putting a bitch in their place, but not like that.”

“What the hell is this? You got something you want to say?” I step closer, our faces inches apart.

“Yeah, I’ve got something to say. That shit back there? That’s not us. This whole fucking arrangement is bullshit, and you know it. Rory isn’t Conrad. He’s a fucking piece of shit, but she’s not. What’s your plan? Lock her up? Beat her every time she defies you? Torture her? What’s next, Axe?”

“Shut the hell up,” I snap, my temper on the verge of exploding.

“No. I’m not shutting up. You need to hear this. This is some fucked-up shit. You’re acting like a fucking lunatic. You’re turning into your goddamn father!” The moment those words leave his mouth, I slam my fist into his jaw, the impact jarring my arm.

“Don’t you ever fucking compare me to him!”

He stumbles back, rubbing his jaw, blood trickling from his split lip. The bastard barely flinches before he lunges at me, and we hit the ground hard, locked in a brutal struggle.

We grapple, punch, kick—each blow feeding the fire inside me. His knuckles connect with my ribs, and the sharp pain is almost welcome, grounding me in the violence. The taste of iron fills my mouth as I land a punch to his gut.

He fights back with everything he’s got, but I don’t give a damn. I need this. I need to feel something other than the fucking rage burning me alive.

We fight all the time, usually over stupid shit, but this? This is different. There’s a viciousness in both of us, a rage that drives us to keep going long after we should’ve stopped. Eventually, the exhaustion sets in, and we collapse, panting, bloodied, and bruised.

I shove him off, spitting blood onto the ground as I sit up, my head pounding and my face on fire. I could kill him right now, but I just crave the violence, the pain.

“Are you finished?” I growl, refusing to look at him. If I do, I know I’ll lose it again, and this time, I won’t stop.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, his breath ragged as he pushes himself to his feet. I follow, my body screaming in protest. “Why are you doing this, Axe? What the hell is all of this about? This can’t just be about revenge. You’ve never given two shits about a woman before, let alone a fucking wife.”

“Drop it, Griff. Just fucking drop it.”

He shakes his head, frustrated. “When she kills herself to get away from you, don’t come crying to me.” He storms off, leaving me alone to lean against the fence, sucking in deep breaths to steady my rage.

His words echo, but I don’t give a fuck.

She’s not escaping—not death, not me, nothing.

I drag the back of my hand across my face, smearing blood over my skin. The cold air bites, but it doesn’t touch the fire burning in my chest. He doesn’t understand. This is how it has to be.

I’ll drag her through hell as many times as it takes.

She’ll learn to submit. I’ll make damn sure of it.

My anger twists into something darker—a thirst for violence, for blood. I need an outlet. Pulling out my phone, I fire off a message to Isaac, demanding the next mission. A list of targets fills my screen—names of men who’ve managed to slip through the Sovereign’s grasp. The fuckups before me couldn’t get it done, but I’ve never failed.

I lock onto the highest-value target—a drug kingpin who’s spent years evading the Sovereign’s attempts to bury him. That ends now. I’ll dismantle his empire and make him choke on the ashes of everything he’s built.

I head straight for the armory in the basement. The room is dim, the air thick with the scent of gun oil and metal. Rifles line the walls, and weapons are meticulously arranged on the shelves. I pack a large black duffel bag with everything I’ll need: knives, guns, ammo, explosives.

Satisfied, I sling the bag over my shoulder and head for the door.

As I pause at the doorway of the room where I’d locked Rory that first night, a memory crashes over me. A memory I’ve spent years trying to bury deep.

“Axel, I’m hungry,” Lucas whispers.

“Shut up. He’ll hear you,” I hiss, curling tighter into myself. The cold floor numbs my bones, but it’s nothing compared to the emptiness gnawing at my stomach. Days without food. Locked in cages like animals.

I glance over at my twin, his ribs sharp against his skin in the cage beside mine. We’re both at his mercy. And he has none.

“Just a little longer. He’ll come back,” I lie, knowing damn well there won’t be mercy when he does.

Hours drag by in darkness. The chains around our necks bite deeper every time we shift. Every hour, the hope drains a little more, replaced by the brutal understanding: this isn’t a punishment. It’s a lesson.

Footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. The door creaks open, spilling light across the floor, and I hear the familiar jingle of keys. My father steps inside, his boots scraping against the concrete. Relief floods my body, but it’s poisoned with dread. The lock clicks.

“Axel.” He unlocks my cage, and I stumble out, the chains dragging along the floor behind me. My skin is raw, burned from the iron, but I keep my head down, swallowing the pain.

“You’ve held out,” he says, his cold eyes assessing me. “That’s what it means to be a Hawthorne. Resilience. Strength. You did well.”

“Thank you, Dad,” I whisper, though my voice cracks.

He turns, walking toward the door. But then I realize something’s wrong. He’s leaving Lucas.

“Dad…Lucas ? —”

“No, Axel. Just you.” His words are sharp, final.

“What? No! You can’t leave him, he’s ? —”

“Silence!” He spins on me, eyes blazing. “You think you can protect him? Save him? Lucas is fucking weak, Axel. Not you. You’re stronger—but not if you cling to that pathetic bond. It’ll break you. It’ll get you killed. He’ll get you killed.”

“Please, Dad,” I beg, tears choking me. “He’s my brother!”

Lucas’s voice is barely a whisper now. “Axel, don’t leave me…”

“And that’s exactly why he’ll be your downfall.” His hand cracks across my face, the sharp sting forcing my head to the side. “Feel that!” he barks. “Pain is all you’re allowed to feel. That’s the only thing that’ll keep you alive.”

He grabs my face, his fingers digging into my jaw, forcing me to meet his furious gaze.

“Listen to me, Axel. Emotions. Attachment. Make you soft. Out there, the moment you hesitate for someone else, you’re fucking dead.”

My chest tightens. I look at Lucas, but I’m frozen.

My father sneers. “Pathetic.” He grabs me by the shirt and flings me back into the cage, slamming the door shut behind me. The lock clicks, a death sentence to any hope I had left.

“Stay here until you learn,” he snarls. “You can rot in this cage if you think giving a damn about anyone but yourself will get you anywhere. You’re no Hawthorne, no Sovereign, if you can’t cut him loose. Strength. Survival. That’s all that matters. Forget him—or die.”

He unlocks Lucas’s cage, pulling him out roughly. Lucas screams my name as our father drags him away. His cries echo down the hall, slowly fading into nothing.

I sit in the dark, alone.

I can’t be weak.

I can’t show emotion.

I have to be strong.

I’m a Hawthorne.