Page 63 of Savage Loyalty

Axel stared at me for a long moment, his face a mask of frustration and something that almost looked like regret. Then, without a word, he turned and strode toward the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “You’re playing with fire, Delilah. Don’t expect not to get burned.”

The front door swung open, and Ryder stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a storm. His sharp gaze locked on Axel immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Ryder’s voice was a low growl, the kind that promised nothing good.

Axel’s lips curled into a smirk, the cigarette still dangling from his fingers. “Should’ve known you’d show up. Always sniffing around where you don’t belong.”

Ryder took a step closer, his fists already clenched. “This is her house. You don’t belong here.”

“Her house, huh?” Axel shot back, standing his ground. “Funny, considering she’s my sister. You don’t get to waltz in here and play the hero, Reaper.”

The tension in the room crackled like live wires. I stepped between them, my heart racing. “Both of you, stop! This isn’t the time or place for this.”

Neither of them listened. Ryder’s jaw tightened as he pointed a finger at Axel. “You don’t get to come into here and start throwing accusations. You’re nothing but a piece of shit who’s always looking for a way to control everything."

“And you,” Axel shot back, his voice rising, “you think you’re better? You dragged her into this mess, and now she’s stuck. What’s worse, you’ve got her pregnant, tying her to your war. Dad would be disgusted.”

Ryder snapped. He lunged at Axel, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him against the wall. The force of the impact rattled the photo frames on the mantel.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Axel snarled, swinging a fist that connected with Ryder’s side.

I screamed, trying to push between them, but they were too far gone. Ryder retaliated, his fist slamming into Axel’s jaw, sending him staggering back. The coffee table tipped over, crashing to the floor as the fight intensified.

“Stop it!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “You’re going to tear this place apart!”

Neither man paid me any attention. Axel tackled Ryder, the two of them crashing into the recliner. My heart pounded as I moved closer, desperate to stop them before someone got seriously hurt.

But before I could, Axel swung wildly, his arm colliding with me. The force knocked me off balance, and I stumbled backward, landing hard on the floor. Pain shot through my back, and my hands instinctively went to my stomach.

“Delilah!” Ryder’s voice cut through the chaos, panic laced in his tone. He pushed Axel off him and rushed to my side, his eyes wide as he knelt beside me. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Axel stood frozen, his expression shifting from anger to guilt. “Delilah… I didn’t mean…”

I glared at both of them, my voice trembling with rage. “Get out. Both of you. Now.”

Ryder’s hand reached for mine, but I pulled away. “I’m fine. Just go. Leave me alone.”

Axel hesitated, his gaze darting between me and Ryder. Finally, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Ryder lingered, his jaw tight as he struggled to find the right words.

“Delilah…”

“I said go,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “I can’t do this right now.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes dark with worry and frustration. Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the wreckage of the living room. Tears burned in my eyes as I pressed my hand to my stomach, whispering a silent promise to my baby.

“I’ll keep you safe. No matter what.”

And then he was gone, leaving me alone in the house that suddenly felt too big and too small all at once. I sank against the worn couch, my hand resting on my stomach as I tried to steady my breathing. The silence pressed down on me, but it wasn’t the comforting kind I’d hoped for. It was heavy, suffocating.

I glanced around the room, my gaze landing on the framed photo of my father on the mantel. His stern eyes stared back at me, a silent reminder of the life I’d left behind and the one I was trying to navigate now.

“I’ll figure this out,” I whispered, more to myself than to anyone else. “I have to.”

The sound of the door closing took me back to when I was eight years old. I was sitting on the staircase where I thought no one could see me. My mother’s voice carried through the house,sharp and cutting, filled with the kind of anger I didn’t yet understand.

"You think I didn’t see you?" she shouted, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You think I don’t know what you’re doing?"

Dad stood in the middle of the living room, his face a mask of irritation. "It’s not what you think," he said, his tone dismissive. "You’re making a scene over nothing."

"Nothing?" Mom’s voice cracked, her frustration spilling over. "I saw you with her, Javier. One of your little club girls, hanging all over you like she owns you. You think that’s nothing?"

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