Page 40 of Double Standards
“Didn’t think so,” he mutters.
We walk a few more steps in silence before I finally speak, my voice low but firm. “Where were you the night the Mayor was killed?”
He stops, barely noticeably, but I feel it in the sudden tension of his hand, still cradling mine loosely. His breath catches. For a second, he doesn’t answer, doesn’t move—just stares ahead like the question cracked something open inside him.
“Is that why you came on this walk?” he finally asks, tone rough and sharp. “To squeeze the truth out of me with a gentle touch and soft eyes?”
“No,” I blurt. “But I need to know.”
He turns slowly, eyes meeting mine with something dark and searching. “You don’t trust me.”
“I’m your lawyer, Axel. It’s my job to know what I’m walking into.”
His eyes narrow—not in anger, but in that way he does when he’s trying to decide whether I’ve earned the next layer of him. He studies me for a long beat, and then, finally, he exhales a laugh—bitter and hollow.
“I told you I was out of the country,” he sighs.
“That’s not enough, Axel, and you know it.” My tone cuts sharper now. “You disappearing right before the mayor’s death doesn’t scream innocence. For all the city knows, you could’ve ordered a hit.”
His eyes darken. The air shifts.
“I was in Sicily,” he growls, “cutting a deal that kept our entire east line from collapsing. Trigger and Max were with me the whole damn time—we didn’t take a piss without each other knowing about it. You want alibis? They’ve got timestamps, receipts, fuckin' blood on their boots from the job. But I can’t tell that to the damn court!”
“But that still doesn’t remove you as a suspect.”
“The Mayor was leverage. He was workingforme. So whoever wanted him dead, it was because of that.”
My breath hitches as he steps closer, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Don’t stand there and act like I’d torch everything I built to do somethingthatstupid. If I wanted someone dead, they wouldn’t hear it coming—and no one would know about it.”
The words land between us like a confession and a dare. Pushing me to make the choice to believe him. And I think I do. Or at least this version of the truth.
“Believe what you want, Cassie.” He shrugs, pulling his hand from mine. But the tremor in his voice betrays him. And somehow, that tells me more than any alibi ever could. He might act like a ruthless mobster, but Axel still has a heart. He has feelings—even if they’re smothered in layers of violence.
“I believe you, Axel.” The words fall as a whisper, but it’s enough for Axel to relax.
He nods silently, and then we step out of the park, to the path that leads back to my apartment building. I bite my lip, nervous at how much Axel has shifted—from danger to something almost tender in less than two seconds.
Crossing the street, he guides me with his hand resting at the small of my back, heat radiating up my spine. He makes no move to pull me closer, just frames my waist with a sturdy arm.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
His eyes watch me closely—the darkness replaced by something softer.
“What made you want to join The Five?”
He shakes his head like I’ve asked something ridiculous. “I didn’t.”
My brows connect. “But I read you took over from your father?”
We both know how quickly the tone has shifted, how our dynamic is changing.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read,” he accuses with a chuckle, tipping his chin as we near my apartment. “I took over from my uncle.”
“What about your parents?”
I can’t stop asking. The story’s unraveling, and I want every thread. I want to know more about the dark and enigmatic Axel Bonanno.
