35. Willow
35
WILLOW
M y feet ache with each step through the dense forest. The moon hangs high above us, casting eerie shadows through the trees. I hadn’t expected the journey to take this long—my work shoes weren’t made for wilderness treks.
“Just a bit further.” Axel’s hand is steady on my lower back. Tommy trails behind us, his labored breathing the only sound besides our footsteps on fallen leaves.
My thighs burn from climbing over fallen logs and navigating steep inclines. The forest seems endless, each tree identical to the last. I stumble on a root, but Axel catches me before I fall.
“There.” Axel points to a dark shape ahead. As we draw closer, I make out the silhouette of a cabin, its windows dark and empty. The wooden structure leans slightly to one side, moss creeping up its weathered walls.
Axel takes point, circling the perimeter while Tommy and I wait in the shadows. The door hangs loose on its hinges. Inside, dust covers every surface. A moth-eaten couch sits beneath a cracked window, and a rustic fireplace dominates one wall.
“It’s clear,” Axel says, ushering us inside. “Tommy, check the back room.”
I sink onto the couch, ignoring the musty smell. A bone-deep weariness settles in as the adrenaline recedes. Axel kneels before me, examining my feet where blisters have formed.
“You should have told me you were struggling,” he says, his touch gentle as he removes my shoes.
“We couldn’t stop.” I wince as he peels off my socks. “Not with them behind us.”
Tommy returns from his sweep. “Place is secure. Found some old blankets in a chest.”
I push myself off the couch despite my aching feet. “Let me look at your arm, Tommy.”
Axel steps between us. “He’s fine. You need to rest.”
“I’m a doctor, Axel. Even if it’s not my specialty, I had basic medical training.” I meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “Tommy helped us escape. We owe him.”
Tommy slumps against the wall, his face pale with pain. Axel’s jaw tightens, but he moves aside.
“Thank you,” I say, approaching Tommy. “Can you show me where it hurts?”
Tommy gestures to his right arm, which hangs at an awkward angle.
I carefully examine the shoulder, noting the deformity and how he guards it. “It’s dislocated. I can reset it, but it’s going to hurt.”
Tommy’s eyes widen. “You can do that?”
“I had emergency medical training in school,” I explain, assessing the joint. “Axel, I need your help.”
Axel moves behind Tommy without question. “What do you need me to do?”
“Hold him steady. This is going to be painful.” I position myself in front of Tommy. “I need you to relax as much as possible,” I tell him. “The more tense you are, the harder this will be.”
Tommy nods nervously, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Axel, keep him from moving.” I meet Tommy’s eyes. “Take a deep breath. On three.”
I count but move on two—a trick I learned to catch patients off guard. With practiced movements, I rotate the arm outward and guide the humeral head back into the socket with a sickening pop.
Tommy’s scream is muffled against Axel’s arm, his body jerking with the sudden pain.
“It’s done,” I say, immediately checking the joint. “We still need to immobilize it.”
Scanning the cabin, I spot some blankets. “Axel, tear one of those into strips. We need to make a sling.”
Axel complies without argument, ripping the fabric while I help Tommy breathe through the residual pain.
“The good news is you won’t need a hospital,” I tell Tommy as I create a makeshift sling. “But you’ll need to keep it immobilized for a few weeks. The ligaments need time to heal.”
“There,” I say, tying off the last knot. “It’s back in place but will be sore for a while. Try not to move it too much.”
Tommy flexes his fingers experimentally. “It feels better already. Thanks.”
I squeeze his good shoulder. “Try not to move it too much.”
I can’t believe how wrong everything’s gone. This wasn’t the plan—it was supposed to be just Axel and me disappearing into the night. Instead, we’re stuck in this decrepit cabin with Tommy nursing a dislocated arm. Rico’s dead and a complete asshole for ratting us out.
I run my fingers through my tangled hair. Axel’s decision to bring his crew along has put everything at risk. We could’ve been halfway to the border, just the two of us. Instead, we’re playing nursemaid to a wounded hacker while police helicopters circle the area.
The main room feels suffocating. I spot a doorway leading to what looks like a bedroom and slip away from the others. A rusty bed frame holds a bare mattress, springs poking through in places. At this point, I don’t care - my body aches too much to be picky.
I lie down, the mattress creaking under my weight. Water stains spread like dark continents across the ceiling above me.
Heavy footsteps approach. Axel fills the doorway, his expression unreadable.
“You should’ve told me about bringing them,” I say before he can speak.
“I needed them.”
“No, you didn’t. You needed me and my plans. Now we’re exposed, vulnerable?—”
“They were loyal to me inside. I owed them.”
I sit up, anger flaring. “Loyal?” I laugh bitterly, pushing myself up from the mattress. “Rico sold us out to Marcus. He’s the reason we almost died back there.”
Axel’s face darkens at the mention of Rico’s name. His fingers flex at his sides—a tell I’ve learned means he’s fighting for control.
“You think I don’t know that? Rico made his choice, and he paid for it.”
“And now we’re paying for your choice to bring them.” I get off the bed, refusing to back down. “The cops aren’t our only problem anymore. Marcus’s got people on the outside with resources. They’ll be hunting us.”
A branch snaps outside. Axel’s head whips toward the sound, his entire body tensing. Shadows move in the darkness through the grimy window.
“Get down,” Axel hisses, shoving me behind the bed.
The door splinters inward. Three of Marcus’s men burst through, their boots thundering on the wooden floor. My lungs work overtime.
Axel moves like a coiled serpent striking. His fist connects with the first man’s throat before they can even raise their weapons. The crack of cartilage makes me flinch. The man drops, clutching his crushed windpipe.
The second attacker swings a knife. Axel catches his wrist, twisting until bones snap. The knife clatters to the floor. Axel’s elbow smashes into the man’s face, sending teeth flying.
The third man gets his arms around Axel from behind. Blood sprays as Axel slams his head back, crushing the man’s nose. He breaks free and whirls, grabbing the man’s head between his hands. The sickening crack of a broken neck echoes through the cabin.
Two more men burst in through the back. Tommy scrambles away, cradling his broken arm. One of them raises a gun.
Axel moves faster than I thought possible. He snatches up the fallen knife and hurls it. The blade embeds in the gunman’s eye. Before his partner can react, Axel is on him. His hands lock around the man’s jaw, muscles straining as he literally tears it from the man’s face.
The violence is horrific and primitive. Yet I can’t look away. This is Axel’s purest form of lethal grace, raw power, and absolute brutality. The monster everyone warned me about.
The last man tries to run. Axel catches him by the hair, dragging him back.
“Please...” the man sobs.
Axel’s response is to slam his head repeatedly into the wall until there’s nothing left but pulp and bone fragments.
The cabin falls silent except for Axel’s heavy breathing. He stands among the carnage, covered in blood and gore, his eyes wild with bloodlust. When he looks at me, I see the madness inside him, and I’m not afraid.