Page 89 of Axel

Without a word, Jace drops a black hood over the other man’s face and covers his mouth, muffling his shouts.

I look behind them, through the ivy-laced gate, to see if there are witnesses, but it’s a quiet side street. I’m the only one watching as Axel muscles his way toward John, backing him into the deep shadows of the church, and Jace follows with his captive.

“Fun with her?” Axel snarls. “You dare to touchmyqueen? To even fuckingspeakto her?”

He pulls out a black tactical knife from his right front pocket, its automatic blade snapping with a razor-sharp reveal.

“Scream, and you die. Let me have a littlefunwith you, and you live.” Axel trails the dagger’s tip across John’s neck, drawing a trickle of blood. “What’s it going to be, Calloway?”

“Cameras.” John glances around. “You can’t do this. There are cameras everywhere.”

“Not here, princess,” Jace mocks. “This ain’t our first knife party.”

“But… but…” John trembles, “But I didn’t even touch her.”

“Oh, but youdid.” Axel towers over him. “And then youshamed her for doing exactly whatyoudid. For wanting whatyouwanted. For being curious likeyouwere. You know, for such a wealthy man, you can’t afford that double standard.” He presses the dagger’s tip to John’s cheek under his shaking eye. “And you were about to assault her just now. That’s not a double standard, Johnny-boy, that’s deadly in my book.”

In a slow, calculated cut, Axel pierces John’s flesh, dragging the blade down his cheek while John whimpers, and I stand, shocked. Not horrified. Shocked at how I’m not appalled by what I see.

No, I want to applaud.

Maybe I’m not civilized. Maybe I’m too country. Maybe the only justice poor people like me get is vigilante justice, and it feels good.

In seconds, Axel leaves a weeping gash down John’s face. It’ll leave a scar. A permanent warning.

From his left pocket, Axel reveals a small, white paper packet. When I read the label, I see the beast Axel warned me about.

But unlike the nights with my stepfather, I don’t want to run from Axel. I want to stay, right here, admiring him.

“You know the saying ‘salt in a wound,’ Johnny-boy?” Axel even sounds evil. “We say it now as an idiom for excruciating pain. And it is. Trust me, my father taught me well.”

Blood drips down John’s cheek, staining the blue cardigan draped over his shoulders. I glance down and note the wet stain on his Madras shorts, too.

Axel’s made him piss his pants.

“But it originated as a medicinal practice,” Axel keeps lecturing, and it’s the first one I’ve ever enjoyed. “It cleanses a wound.” He tsks, “But, oh, Johnny-boy, let me tell you. It burns like the fire of hell. It’s a helluva price to pay for healing. So tell me…”

With his teeth, Axel rips the salt packet open. “Howmany girls and women have you hurt? Other thanmine, how many?”

“I… I…” Blood pools at the corner of John’s blubbering mouth. “I haven’t ever?—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Axel fumes. “Predators are made, not born. You were raised entitled. You were taught women are objects you can use and abuse. You became delusional about their desire. You think theywantyou when they actually fuckinghateyou. I was born to a man like you, so fucking say it.How? Many?”

Tears well in my eyes. Not for John’s temporary suffering. But for Axel’s. For his life.

To be born to a monster. Raised by a monster. Abused by a monster. And to be half a monster.

But Axel has a heart. The purest heart and mine breaks at the pain he’s endured. His mother and brothers, too.

“I don’t know,” John quavers. “Only one. Maybe two. But she wanted it and?—”

“That equates to eight, maybe ten.” Axel pours the salt into John’s gaping wound before slamming his palm against John’s bloody mouth, stifling his scream. “And they didn’twantit,” Axel snarls. “They didn’t wantyou. Because a real man knows. He waits. He asks. He gives, and he never takes. He doesn’t hurt a woman, you fucking pathetic piece of shit. Stare in the mirror and know that’s what you are.”

John’s screams turn into snotty tears.

And still, I’m not appalled.

The only regret I feel is for his victims. I guess I was lucky. If I had said no to him that afternoon, would my choice have been taken by the crime, too?

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