Page 68 of Knuckles & Knives
Axel stands there for a moment. Then he wipes his blade clean and sheathes it with practiced efficiency.
“It’s done,” he says to the empty warehouse, his voice carrying years of pain and relief and terrible finality.
That’s when I notice the other figures moving in the shadows—Viktor’s backup, the coordinated team Marcus warned us about. At least four men emerge from concealment with military precision.
“Axel!” I shout, raising my weapon.
But he’s already moving. The first gunman gets off a shot that goes wide as Axel rolls behind a container. The second finds himself facing Dom’s rifle despite the injured man’s position thirty yards away.
What follows is less a firefight than a choreographed dance of violence. Axel flows between shadows like his nickname suggests, appearing and disappearing with deadly efficiency. Dom provides covering fire from his position.The recoil jostles his side, and he grits his teeth hard enough I hear the crack. Still, he lines up the next shot like pain is a problem for later.
Marcus coordinates our movements with tactical precision, his analytical mind turning chaos into strategy.
Kieran and his team breach from the east just as the last mercenary falls, their timing perfect as always.
When the silence finally settles, it’s complete.
I find Axel sitting on the concrete beside Viktor’s body, his head in his hands. Blood from various cuts mingles with sweat, but he’s alive, whole, and victorious.
“Hey,” I say softly, approaching like I would a wounded animal.
He looks up at me, and for a moment, his eyes are completely bare—all the wild energy, all the manic charm, all the protective walls stripped away to reveal the damaged boy underneath.
“It’s over,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s over,” I confirm, sinking down beside him on the cold concrete.
“I thought…” He swallows hard. “I thought if I could kill him, if I could end it, maybe the nightmares would stop. Maybe I could be normal.”
“Axel.” I touch his face gently, making him look at me. “You are normal. For us, for this family, you’re exactly what you need to be.”
“I’m fucked up,brujita. Really, seriously fucked up.”
“So are the rest of us.” I lean closer, letting him see the absolute truth in my eyes. “That’s why we work.”
Dom appears beside us, moving carefully but steadily. “You good, Ghost?”
Axel nods, some of his usual energy returning. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
“Then let’s get out of here before the cops show up.” Dom extends his uninjured hand to help Axel up. “We can debrief at home.”
Home. The word settles something restless in my chest. Not the facility, not a safe house, but home.
Home is wherever the five of us are together.
As we clean up the scene and prepare to leave, Axel catches my hand. “Thank you,” he says quietly.
“For what?”
“For coming even though I told you not to.”
“That’s what family does,” I reply simply. “We show up.”
His smile is brilliant, wild, and completely genuine. “I love this fucked-up family.”
“Good,” Dom says, overhearing. “Because you’re stuck with us.”
The drive back is quiet, the adrenaline slowly wearing off to leave exhaustion and relief in its wake. Axel sits pressed against my side, his usual restless energy subdued but not extinguished. Dom dozes fitfully in the front seat, finally allowing the pain medication to take effect. Marcus handles communications, ensuring our exit was clean and our alibis are solid.
