Chapter 18
AXEL
My knuckles tighten around my glass as I watch Whit lean against the bar, acting like he owns the place.
My patience is already running thin, the tension humming under my skin like a live wire.
I’ve been keeping an eye on him ever since Emily ran out, but it’s getting harder and harder not to march over and knock that smug look off his face.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I push off the stool and stride toward him, feeling the heat of everyone’s eyes following me, but I don’t care. This guy has caused enough trouble, and someone needs to put him in his place.
“You need to back the hell off. You’ve got no business messing with Emily.”
He turns slowly, a sneer pulling at his lips. “And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” he spits, his eyes narrowing as he looks me up and down, sizing me up. “What does she even mean to you?”
The question sends a spike of fury through me. I step closer, getting right in his face. “More than she ever meant to you.”
Whit laughs. “You just met her? And now suddenly she’s your everything?”
“Fuck you.”
Whit smirks, his eyes gleaming with something ugly. “Oh, I see. Big tough guy playing hero for the damsel, huh?” His voice drips with mockery, and he leans in, deliberately trying to provoke me. “You think she’s gonna fall into your arms just because you chase away her ex?”
My fists clench at my sides, every muscle coiled tight. I’m so close to losing it, to decking him right here and now, but I force myself to hold back. Barely. “You don’t get to talk about her like that.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” He laughs, low and taunting, and something snaps. Before I can react, he shoves me hard, his face twisted in anger.
The bar around us seems to go silent, like everyone’s holding their breath.
“Come on, big guy,” Whit snarls, stepping forward, shoving me again, his voice rising. “You want a piece of me? What does she mean to you, huh? You think you’re something special?”
His words are barely out when he swings, his fist crashing into the side of my jaw. Pain explodes through my head, and I stumble back a step, tasting blood. The bar erupts around us, shouts and gasps filling the air, but I don’t register any of it. All I see is red.
Without thinking, I lunge forward, my fist connecting with his face in a powerful, satisfying crack. Whit staggers, blood pouring from his nose as he curses and rushes me again. We collide, his fists swinging wildly, and I barely feel the punches as adrenaline floods my veins.
“You piece of shit!” I roar, grabbing his shirt and shoving him back against the bar, knocking over glasses and sending bottles crashing to the floor. He claws at me, trying to get a grip, and lands another punch to my ribs that sends a sharp jolt of pain through me.
But I don’t back down. I swing again, my fist slamming into his jaw, and he goes down, hitting the floor hard. I’m on him in a second, grabbing him by the collar, ready to hit him again—
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, yanking me back. “Axel, stop!” Tanner’s voice is in my ear, his grip tight as he pulls me off Whit. “Enough, man!”
But the rage is still there, white-hot and seething. I struggle against Tanner’s hold, my fists still clenched.
“You want more, huh?” Whit spits, his face a bloody mess, his eyes wild. “I’m not done with you!”
“Stay down, you asshole!” Tanner growls.
“I’m going to kill that piece of shit,” I say. Whit pales, his bravado fading.
“Knock it off!” Tanner warns, still holding me back, his voice low and fierce. “You’re going to get us all thrown out!”
I’m breathing hard, the taste of blood in my mouth, but I force myself to take a step back, glaring at Whit as he struggles to his feet, wiping blood from his split lip.
“Get the hell out of here, Whit,” I say, my voice deadly calm. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”
He glares at me, his chest heaving, and for a second, I think he’s going to charge again. But then he spits on the floor, his eyes burning with fury. “This isn’t over,” he snarls, backing away slowly.
“Yeah, it is,” I snap, my gaze locked on him as he stumbles toward the door, still shooting me murderous looks over his shoulder. But I don’t move, don’t breathe, until he’s out of sight.
Only then do I relax slightly, my hands still shaking, every muscle still thrumming with leftover adrenaline.
“You okay?” Tanner asks quietly, finally letting go of me.
I nod, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Tanner steps in front of me, his brow furrowed as he squints at my jaw. He leans closer, concern creasing his face. “Shit, you’re bleeding,” he mutters, reaching up instinctively like he’s about to touch the cut, but I jerk back.
“I’m fine,” I growl, wiping the blood away with the back of my hand. The sting barely registers compared to the rage I feel for Whit.
“You look like hell,” Tanner says, shaking his head. “This is way above my paygrade. Where the hell is Ben when we need him?”
That’s when it hits me—Ben’s not here. I glance around the bar, still buzzing with the aftermath of the fight. The bartender is eyeing us warily. A few patrons sit around whispering and throwing us sideways glances, but there’s no sign of Ben. Or Jace.
A sinking feeling settles in my gut. They were both here a few minutes ago, keeping an eye on Whit just like the rest of us. I remember Ben’s eyes glued to Emily as she ran out, the tension in his shoulders as he watched her leave…and now they’re both missing.
Tanner’s already pulling out his phone, dialing Ben’s number. He holds it up to his ear, tapping his foot impatiently as he waits for the call to connect.
“Pick up, pick up…” he mutters under his breath, glancing at me. “You think they went after her?”
“Where else would they be?” I snap.
“Hey!” Tanner’s voice breaks through my thoughts. He’s finally got Ben on the line, and I can hear his voice on the other end, muffled but urgent.
“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Tanner’s saying, his expression shifting from relief to something sharper. “Whit’s gone, but Axel’s bleeding, and I’m here stuck playing nurse while you’re off—” He pauses, listening intently. “Wait. What? Where the hell are you?”
He waits, listening to something on the other end. “Okay, come soon,” Tanner says, pocketing his phone.
“Where is he?”
“Didn’t say,” Tanner says.
“Where the hell are they?”
“No clue,” Tanner says.
“We’d better get up there and figure it out ourselves.”
But before I can respond, the bar door swings open, and Ben strides in. My gaze zeroes in on him immediately. He looks a little disheveled, but mostly unscathed—unlike me. There’s an odd look in his eyes, something I can’t quite read, and it sets me on edge.
“Shit, what happened to your face?” Ben blurts out the second he sees me, his gaze dropping to my jaw.
I scoff, tossing the bloodied napkin onto the counter. “Whit happened. That asshole landed one good punch before I put him on his ass.”
Ben’s lips quirk up in a half-smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s gone now, right?”
“Not gone enough,” I grumble, flexing my jaw. “But never mind that—where were you?”
“With Emily…we were just talking,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes.
“Okay sure,” I say, though I don’t really believe him.
Ben pulls out a clean cloth and presses it gently against my jaw, his touch cautious, but I can’t seem to care about the sting. My thoughts are all over the place, and every time I look at him, the anger just builds.
“Hold still,” Ben murmurs, wiping away the dried blood. “You’re gonna reopen it if you keep clenching like that.”
I glare at him, my jaw tight. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, you’re bleeding,” he shoots back, his voice calm but his eyes narrowed with frustration. He dabs at the cut again, his movements precise, careful. Almost too careful.
“Just wrap it up and get it over with,” I snap, shrugging him off. I’m wound too tight, every nerve buzzing.
Ben’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but whatever it is, it’s making my skin crawl.
“You’re in a great mood,” he mutters, “I’m just trying to help.”
I can’t help the sharp laugh that escapes me. “Help, huh? Like you ‘helped’ by running off back there?”
Ben’s hands still for a fraction of a second—so quick I almost miss it—but then he forces a casual shrug, his expression carefully neutral. “I told you that I was checking on Emily.”
“Yeah, I got that part,” I say.
Ben opens his mouth to respond, but a familiar voice cuts through the air before he can say anything.
“Jesus, what happened in here?” Collie’s voice is a mix of shock and disbelief as she strides into the bar, her eyes wide as she takes in the mess—broken glass scattered across the floor, toppled chairs, and the lingering tension in the air.
She stops dead in front of us, hands on her hips. “Looks like a damn tornado hit. Was this your doing?” Her gaze zeroes in on me, and I see the exact moment she notices the cut on my face, her expression shifting from disbelief to concern. “And you’re bleeding, for God’s sake!”
I shrug, trying to keep my irritation in check. “Just a minor disagreement.”
“Minor?” she echoes, her eyebrows shooting up. “You’re sitting there looking like you went ten rounds with a grizzly, and there’s blood all over the floor. I’d hate to see what you’d call serious.”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine,” she repeats, shaking her head in exasperation, “boys and your damn testosterone.” She crosses her arms, surveying the room like she’s assessing the damage. “Well, someone’s cleaning this up, and it’s not going to be me.”
“I’ll handle it,” Ben says quickly, his voice a little too eager.
“I expect this place to be spotless before morning. I’m not explaining this disaster to management.”
With that, she spins on her heel and marches out, muttering something under her breath about men and their idiocy.
Ben turns back to me, pressing the cloth against my jaw again, but I grab his wrist, holding him in place.