Page 113 of Axel

Scarlett claimed she had a stomach bug and flying would be a special hell. But really, Ruby confided in me that she thinks Scarlett is pregnant and no one knows yet, not even her husband, Luca.

While Ruby’s been gone, everything and nothing has happened.

Our kittens are cute, but I won’t name them without Ruby. She has to meet them first. The furry little fuckers have distinct personalities, but all love to sleep in my shoes.

Nash will initiate Vale in two days. He finally relented, agreeing to let Jace be Vale’s second king. And Vale passed her queen’s test with orgasmic colors … and a sex swing on the floor.

Of course, I did my part, but I barely touched Vale. I only tested Nash to make sure he’d allow her to be initiated and not murder Jace for it, as I’m sure Nash will also test the hell out of me when it’s Ruby’s turn.

The thought of Ruby’s initiation makes me want to buy a twenty-five-pound bag of salt. For cuts. For bodies. For anyone who touches her.

I can’t think about it without feeling psychopathic. So, I don’t.

I focus on Turner, our escaped sex trafficker. We’ve located his men and hideout. We got that intel from a man who tried to kidnap Vale from my mom’s club. That man cracked easier than an egg, not like this bound fucker with his ass in the air.

After Vale’s initiation, we’ll raid Turner’s hideout, hoping to rescue his next cargo of victims.

But this guy? Watching my mom like a hawk? Like a hard-dicked hawk?

Something about him feels familiar.

But with all he’s a part of? Trafficking women and children? He’ll never make it out of this bunker alive. It’s a bomb shelter in the old naval yard, north of Charleston. I bought it for us to use for weapons storage. For prison and torture. For cornhole on a rainy day.

“If I take her to Chanel,” I’m bugging the shit out of my mom, “what color should I buy her?”

She puffs her cigar, smiling. “What have I always taught you boys?”

“Give a woman whatever she wants.”

“Precisely. Take her shopping and let her pick. It’s not her initiation; I like to buy our queens special gifts for that.” She makes a face. “But I still don’t understand why you want her towatchthis one. It’s not her turn yet. I still need to meet her.”

“I want her to see everything before she agrees.” I shrug. “It’ll be different for her, more dangerous, being my queen, the heir’s queen, and I want her to understand the risks.”

“Ahem.”

The bound man coughs. It’s his first sound since I’ve been here, though he hasn’t seen my face.

He can’t look over his shoulder from where he kneels on the floor to where I stand. He can stare right at his rusty metal, threadbare bed, or he can stare left at my mom’s black, spiked, red-soled Louboutin’s.

All while I have a wincing, clear view of his very groomed asshole.

“He’s someone’s sub,” Vale had guessed in an off-handed statement about him last week. Nash brought her here so she could see the darker part of our world. “He likes bondage and humiliation, and he’s very groomed for it. Physically. Verbally,” she said. “I don’t know who he belongs to, but he serves someone.”

I see what Vale meant.

This captive is way too compliant for a man so tatted and jacked. His body is honed for violence, not his passive pose.

Someone’s trained him.

“Fine.” Mom taps more ashes on his back. “Let your future queen watch an initiation. Yes, you need her full consent. But don’t you dare do any rituals with her until she meets me.”

“Why?” I smirk, leaning against the concrete wall, peeling with decades-old beige paint. “You afraid you won’t like her?”

“No.” Her face softens, answering me, “You love her and I’m afraid I’ll love her, too, and I can’t bear to see you hurt if you lose another queen.”

“Katya never felt like my queen.” I coldly huff, “She felt like my curse.”

“Ahem.”

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