Page 9 of Axel

Chaos breaks out on the front lawn, and the trailer windows shatter. A shot rings out, and I hit the floor, covering my head with my hands. More shots are fired, some outside, some inside, while my brothers race around the trailer in search of more weapons.

I crawl on my stomach to my bedroom, making it inside as a scream rends the air and an explosion detonates in the kitchen.Shit, something must have caught fire in the lab…

I don’t have time to think or rationalize, moving on survival instinct. I can’t go back to the living room with the fire raging and gunshots being exchanged. I toss the only things that matter to me, my laptop, recording mic, and headphones, into my backpack and shove my window open.

I peek outside. It seems to be quiet on this side of the trailer. Most of the action is happening in the front and other side of the trailer, giving me the perfect distraction to get the fuck out.

I carefully lower my backpack as far as possible, letting it drop the last foot and a half to the ground. Even though the mic and laptop are in padded cases, I still wince at the sound of the bag hitting gravel. I worked my ass off babysitting, cleaning houses, washing cars, and other odd jobs every spare moment until I earned enough to purchase all the equipment to start my blog and podcast.

None of that matters now, though. I need to survive tonight and figure out my next steps.

I take one last look around my bedroom, knowing I’ll never be back here again. It was never comforting or safe, but it was familiar. In a life wrought with anarchy and turmoil, familiarity is the best you can hope for.

I’ll need to find something else familiar. Maybe this will be my chance to find my true home.

I grip the window ledge and use the nightstand as leverage to hoist myself through. I’ve only used the window to sneak into the house, not out of it. When coming inside, I crash land on my bed. Out here, however, there’s only dirt and gravel. Still better than meth and fire.

Closing my eyes, I shove myself the rest of the way out the window, bracing myself for impact. My back hits the ground, and I exhale sharply as the breath is stolen from my lungs. Bits of gravel bite into my skin, but I ignore the pain, rolling to my side and forcing myself to stand on shaky legs.

I throw my backpack on, take a deep breath, and peer around the corner to see the progress of whatever takedown is happening. My jaw drops open when I see Blade with his hand around my dad’s neck. The rest of the Savage Saints appear to be raiding and dismantling anything that isn’t on fire.

I can’t wrap my head around everything that’s happened this evening. First, the cops show up and want to make a deal with my family to buy meth. Then, the outlaw biker gang comes in swinging, wanting to shut down the operation for good, I assume.

My eyes land on Axel, and everything in me stills, aside from my racing heart. He’s not looking at me, but just knowing he’s here, seeing him pry apart my deepest secret and greatest shame…

I can’t take it. What if he sees me? He’ll know I’m trash. I’m no good. Not worth the help he and his club have so graciously offered me.

As if sensing me, Axel turns, and his far too perceptive blue gaze hones in on mine. I gasp and spin on my heel, sprinting in the opposite direction. My hip is still swollen and bruised from yesterday, and screams at me with each heavy step. My head throbs, and the pain in my left eye and cheek worsens with my increasing heartbeat.

I ignore all of it. The excruciating pain, the sting of the gravel still embedded in my skin, the stitch in my side that makes it hard to breathe. The only way I’ll get through this is to focus on escaping. Axel will forget all about me in the excitement. I’m sure of it.

Too bad I’ll never forget him or how I felt wrapped in his arms.

CHAPTERFIVE

AXEL

Gemma. Thank fuck.

I lost my damn mind when her dumbass brothers lit a firework and shot it off in the wrong direction. I assume they were aiming for us and trying to scare us off, but instead, they shot their own fucking trailer.

And then her father opened fire, escalating the situation. One of my brothers, still not sure who, shot back, right into the trailer. Blade explicitly instructed everyone not to shoot at the trailer until I got Gemma to safety.

Then the fire broke out, and everything went to shit.

I see my girl take off toward the tree line, her red hair catching the light of the flickering flames. As I sprint after her, I’m more determined than ever to protect Gemma and ensure she never runs from me again.

“Gemma!” I call out when I’m about a dozen feet from her.

She looks over her shoulder, a heart-shattering look in her green eyes. She wants to be saved, but she’s so convinced she’s not worth it.

“I can’t,” she says breathlessly, holding back tears. “I’m–”

Gemma stumbles on a rough patch of grass and pitches forward. I reach her as she falls, sliding my arm around her waist and pulling her into my chest.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper, holding her loosely against me. I don’t know where she’s hurt, and it would kill me if I caused her more pain.

It was hard enough leaving her in that filthy trailer once I figured out her family was the new hookup. I couldn’t exactly walk up to the front door and demand Gemma come out. As someone who grew up with plenty of abusive people, I know firsthand that it doesn’t take much to set them off, especially if drugs are involved. I needed the club's backing, but gathering the resources took too damn long.

---