Marching over to Axel, Warner grabs his shoulder. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us about this? We’re your team. Not Madden.”
Axel shrugs him off. “I didn’t know.”
“Then explain this to me!”
“He got the call from whatever shady fuck he’s bribing, and I offered to come help beat some sense into this lot. Don’t doubt my loyalty.”
“Then you should’ve told us about this.” Warner whirls on Blaine next. “You don’t have our trust in the first place, let alone the right to abuse it.”
“You said it yourself,” Blaine replies steadily. “I don’t have your trust. Why on earth would I divulge my plans to you without it?”
The pained groan spilling from their prisoner interrupts the stare off, forcing all our attention to redirect. Dominic Pit has opened his bruised eyes. As I examine him, something tickles the back of my mind, shrouded in ancient clouds of confusion.
There’s something about his eyes. The palest of greys, an odd hue visible even through the bruises and blood. Over the years, countless foot soldiers passed me, belonging to Gael and the men who would come to conduct business in his estate.
My skull throbs when I try to drag the memory to the forefront, wailing in protest. Much of that time is foggy, particularly the years around my head injury. There was no shortage of scumbags from all over the world visiting Gael in his mansion to strike deals or purchase skin.
“You.” My feet carry me towards the unknown man. “Why do I know you?”
Spitting out a thick globule of blood, Dominic spares me a brief look. “Because I know you, 768. I know what you are.”
His head snaps to the side, bone crunching disgustingly under the force of Axel’s punch.
“Don’t call her that. First and final warning.”
“Ax—”
“No,” he cuts me off. “It’s not your name.”
Barely able to open his eyes through the crimson river spilling from a forehead cut, Dominic spits a curse. My mind pulsates, trying to drag disparate puzzle pieces together.
“I do not know where Luis is,” he chokes out. “And I don’t work for Antonio Gael.”
“You just supply him with product to sell, right?” Axel wipes blood from his knuckledusters.
“N-No!”
“Then who?”
“The European market… it’s f-far more lucrative. Gael is old news to us.”
“Then why are you here?”
When he doesn’t respond, Axel lashes out again, cracking his fist into the bastard’s cheek. His howl plunges me deeper into the shadowy past. Enough to set alight violence in my veins.
“Are you here to source new victims?” Axel shouts between punches. “Who are you selling to?”
Watching him work feels akin to chasing a tornado that’s wreaking havoc on each defenceless town caught in its warpath. Axel isn’t just a thug with a badge; he’s a force of nature. One I’m sure Sabre is glad they have on their side.
Dominic’s face resembles a meaty slab. He’s puffing through each swollen, pulpy inch of battered flesh, somehow still holding onto consciousness. I step forward to rest a hand on Axel’s shoulder.
“May I?” I whisper into his ear.
An enlarged pupil flicks up to me, swallowing the burnt-orange hue all around it.
“Be my guest.”
Axel moves aside to let me take his place in front of Dominic’s sorry state. I don’t look back to see if the others are protesting his decision to let me take over.
