Page 5 of Axel Martin

I stood on the gravel, arms crossed, trying real hard not to notice how she’d already charmed three of the guys into helping her level the trailer.

“You’re enjoying this,” I muttered when she strolled up beside me.

“I am,” she said with a grin. “You’ve got a nice view here. Trees. Mountains. Shirtless elite military men running obstacle drills.”

“You are not filming that.”

“I’m not filming. I’m appreciating.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

She sipped her lemonade—the one she definitely didn’t have ten minutes ago—and shrugged. “Relax, Axel. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

I didn’t believe that for a second.

And yet, when I walked away…

…I didn’t tell her to leave.

6

Lark

Ihadn’t meant to spy.

I really hadn’t.

I was just out for a quiet morning walk, sipping my coffee and soaking in the peace before sunrise when I heard the grunts. Not angry ones—these were focused, controlled. Rhythmic.

Naturally, I followed the sound.

Curiosity’s kind of my thing.

I tiptoed barefoot through the pine trees, careful not to spill my coffee, until I reached a clearing just west of the SEAL training area.

And froze.

Axel was shirtless—tight muscles flexing, moving like coiled steel as he tore through a brutal hand-to-hand routine with another guy. It wasn’t just impressive. It was terrifyingly beautiful. Precision. Power. But under all that control, there was something else—something darker.

Anger.

Not rage. Something deeper. Leashed but dangerous.

Axel always looked like he could talk a wildfire into behaving. But right now, he wasn’t calm. He was storming.

He pivoted and slammed his sparring partner to the mat with a snap, shouting, “Again.”

No jokes. No sarcasm. No grin.

Something was definitely eating at him.

I stayed hidden, heart thudding. But when he ended the set and grabbed a towel, I stepped on a branch. Loudly. Because, of course, I did.

His head whipped up. His eyes locked on mine.

For a second, I braced myself for a scolding.

But he didn’t yell. Didn’t curse. Just started walking toward me, slow and silent.

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