“That’s your problem. Not mine. I didn’t ask him to come.”
“Then what does he want from me?” Axel hisses in anger.
“I’d imagine to add your name to his list.”
“His list?” I parrot.
“The Hunter operates on a strict moral code. Anyone who crosses him soon finds themselves on a list then floating in chunks at the bottom of a ravine.”
In any other circumstance, seeing Axel’s eyes bug out would be amusing. But not while hearing that his bounty hunter, illegal assassin of a brother holds some stupid childhood grudge.
“Wait.” Warner holds up a hand. “Regardless of the infrastructure we failed to dismantle, you don’t have the capital to afford this. How are you paying him?”
“Ah,” Blaine hums. “The catch.”
Coursing with an invisible current of ire, Axel steps closer to Blaine. Each movement shrieks of untapped violence. My eyes flit between them, the lessening distance spelling out danger. It’s like watching two tornados circle each other.
“What did you offer him?” Axel implores, advancing another step.
“I did this for Ember. To end her pain and turmoil.”
“What. Did. You. Offer. Him?”
“Information,” Blaine admits.
“Such as?” Axel specifies.
“He wanted to know all about his lucky twin brother and the life he never got to have. The Hunter wants to hunt you next.”
All hell breaks loose.
Axel pounces on Blaine, the pair coming to blows in a spectacular fashion. I’m lifted from the sofa and shoved backwards by Warner, his yelling going unheeded. Neither man stops trying to batter the other.
They slam into the TV console, sending a priceless vase flying. Crystal smashes against the hardwood floor before Blaine’s dropped onto the shattered fragments. He doesn’t appear to feel it, too busy smashing up Axel’s face like a man possessed.
The sight of spraying blood only cheers Blaine’s viciousness on. He’s a ruthless whirlwind. Axel gives as good as he gets, kneeing him in the dick then clocking his barely healed nose with a powerful right hook.
They twist and roll, slamming backwards into the long wooden unit. It causes the television to waver, almost like it’s listening to Hyland’s warning cry, then the flat screen topples forwards on top of them.
There’s an electric pop as glass and plastic fall apart, burying the two men. But it still isn’t enough to halt them. Axel emerges from beneath the ruined TV first, a hand curled around Blaine’s leg to drag him out too. Only to wallop him straight in the gut.
“They’re going to kill each other!” I tug on Warner’s grip.
“Let them get it out,” he grunts in my ear.
“Forget it!”
“None of us are getting in the middle of that fight. Especially not you.”
“We can’t just watch them!”
“Axel betrayed the trust of our entire team, and Blaine fed private, personal information to his estranged psychopathic twin. I think they’re entitled to beat the shit out of each other.”
“I have a decent view from here,” Hyland calls from the sofa. “The little shit owes me a new flat screen, though. Axel knows we have a no fighting in the penthouse rule.”
“We’ve got to stop this!”
“Stay out of it.” Warner winds two strong arms around my waist. “Violence is the only language these two speak.”
