Chapter 32
Aro
The next morning, I’m woken by Axel bouncing on the bed.
Some things never change.
“Axel—what the f—”
“Princess!” he grins, way too chipper for this hour. “We’re staging a prison break.”
“A prison… what?” I grumble, not even close to awake enough for this.
“We’re breaking you out of here. Johnny’s… out. Sean gave us the green light. Nik and I are taking you on a field trip.”
That has me flying upright, the blanket pooling in my lap. “Really?”
“Really. Get dressed. We have a busy day planned.”
I squint at him, suspicious. “What kind of busy?”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “The good kind. Coffee, sunlight, maybe some emotional whiplash.”
“Sounds… on brand,” I mutter, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
“You’ll love it,” he promises, already halfway out the door.
That sends a flutter through me I pretend not to notice.
∞∞∞
Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed, hair up, and trying to ignore the fact my heart is thudding too fast.
In the kitchen, Sean hands me a protein bar and a to go mug that smells like hazelnut heaven.
“You’re a saint,” I say, smiling when he places a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“And you’re trouble,” he whispers back, grinning. He cups my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb, before bringing his lips to mine. By the time he pulls away, I’m trembling.
“Have fun,” he tells me with a final peck.
I turn to find Axel and Nik watching us.
They don’t look jealous or putout, just interested, as I approach them with flushed cheeks.
I know I have nothing to be embarrassed about, but we haven’t defined…
any of this. I don’t want to censor my feelings or reactions to any of them.
So, I decide right then, I won’t. They can take me as I am, baggage and Sean and all, or they can leave.
“Don’t break her,” Sean calls over the rim of his mug as I take Axel’s outstretched hand.
“No promises!” Axel yells back, already dragging me toward the elevator.
∞∞∞
They won’t tell me where we’re going. They just keep exchanging smirks and cryptic glances in the front seat while I sit in the back, arms crossed, pretending I’m not dying of curiosity. And maybe nerves.
We pull up to an unmarked brick building just outside Nashville.
“Where are we?” I finally break, full of anticipation.
“Home,” Axel answers casually.
“You brought me to your lair?” I ask as we step out.
He shrugs. “This was Nik’s choice. Call it a tour.”
Inside, the place smells like pine and wood stain. It’s cooler than I expected. Edgier. More like them.
Axel vanishes to raid the kitchen or blast music or do whatever Axel does in his natural habitat. Nik stays close, watching me as I slowly walk the perimeter of the workshop, fingertips skimming shelves, tools, half-finished pieces.
“You did it. You followed your dream,” I say, in awe, taking in the hand crafted, wooden objects. “This is where it all happens, huh?”
He nods once. “Where I come when I can’t breathe anywhere else.”
I turn to him. “Can I ask you something?”
He steps closer. “Anything.”
“Why bring me here?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Because this is where I’m the most myself. The most honest. And I wanted you to see that version of me.”
The air stretches taut between us.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, but this is me.”
I understand what he’s saying. His work is a piece of him that he willing gives to the world. Every time he picks up a knife, he carves a piece of his soul into the wood.
When he reaches for me, slow and certain, I don’t stop him. I lean into it. Because I want to know what it feels like to fall into something real again.
Nik closes the distance until there’s barely space between us. His blue eyes are darker in this light, like something unspoken lives behind them and it’s just now starting to surface.
I should say something. I should ask him what this is, what he wants, but I already know.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, slow and deliberate. His fingers trail down, grazing my jaw, and I shiver.
“I brought you home,” he murmurs, “because you belong here. Because I wanted you to see the parts of me no one else gets to.”
“I think I’ve always seen those parts,” I whisper back.
His hand slips around the back of my neck, drawing me in. “Then tell me you want this.”
“I want this.”
I close the rest of the space and kiss him.
It’s not soft. It’s not tentative. It’s years of silence and longing, compressed into a moment that crackles like a live wire.
He kisses like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s staking a claim and apologizing in the same breath.
One hand fists the back of my shirt like he’s scared I’ll run.
The other cups my cheek with surprising gentleness.
I press closer, gasping when his mouth drags along my neck, heat blooming under my skin. He exhales hard, forcing himself to pull back, both of us trying to slow down and failing.
He retreats just enough to look at me. My hands grip his wrists, not wanting to let him go, but the feel of leather under my fingers draws my gaze.
I gasp. “You still have it?”
“Of course I do,” he says quietly. Almost shyly, which is strange. Nik was never unsure.
On his wrist is the braided leather bracelet I gave him for Christmas all those years ago. It’s faded and a little scuffed, but it’s the same one. The sight of it makes my eyes sting.
“You good?” he asks, voice low and gravel-edged.
I nod, my voice hoarse. “Better than good.”
He smirks, thumb brushing my bottom lip. “Then we should stop before we end up naked on the workshop floor.”
I laugh, breathless. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Nothing about that would be bad,” he says, kissing me again, slower this time. Then, he pulls me against his chest, arms wrapped tight around me.
We stay like that for a minute, letting everything settle.
Axel whistles from the doorway. “Hope I’m not interrupting the foreplay.”
I flush.
Nik doesn’t even spare him a glance. “You are,” he says flatly.
Axel grins, showing off those damn dimples that I used to love. Still love.
“Good. Because we’ve got things to show our girl.”
∞∞∞
The rest of the morning is slower. Easier. Nik shows me around the space properly. Tools, blueprints, and sketches are tacked to the walls. Their apartment above the workshop is quiet and masculine. Clean, but lived in. I can see pieces of both of them here. Nik’s precision. Axel’s chaos.
They take turns telling stories about the places they’ve been, the trouble they’ve caused, and the things they’ve built.
It’s both fascinating and devastating. Hearing about the last eight years and not having been a part of it.
.. it’s impossible not to wonder what might’ve been if I never had to run.
A few hours later, Axel drives us downtown. The energy shifts again, becoming louder and looser as we pull up to a narrow brick storefront with blacked-out windows and glowing neon signage.
He throws an arm around my shoulder. “Welcome to my kingdom.”
I raise a brow. “You’re a tattoo artist now?”
“Damn right I am,” he says proudly.
Nik scoffs. “He doesn’t just work here. He owns the place.”
My head whips toward Axel. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he grins. “Come see what I built.”
The smell of antiseptic, ink, and something faintly citrusy hits me the second we walk in. It’s warm and a little chaotic, but weirdly comforting. People move with purpose. Every wall is lined with art ready to find a permanent home.
Axel’s pride is unmistakable. “Every inch of this place? Mine. Designs, layout, even the playlist—except when Cal hijacks the speaker.”
He fist bumps an older guy who’s mid-tattoo.
This place is clearly his second home. Machines buzz. Someone’s laughing. The whole place pulses with energy. It feels like him. Wild. Loyal. Alive.
We pass more clients and artists before Axel swings open a half-door and leads us behind the counter.
“You ever get ink?” he asks casually, but he tracks my every move.
I nod. “Just one.”
He stops. “Seriously?” He scans my body like he’s trying to find it.
Nik chuckles beside us. “Where?”
My mouth quirks. “I’d have to take my pants off to show you.”
Axel blinks. “Oh.”
He grabs my hand. “Back office. Now.”
I laugh, heat crawling up my neck, but follow. Nik trails behind, quieter, but no less curious.
The office is clean and surprisingly minimal. Sketchbooks are stacked on the shelves, an industrial desk sits in the corner, and a worn leather couch lines the wall that probably has a hundred stories of its own.
Axel leans against the door once it shuts, arms crossed. “Alright, Princess. Drop those pants.”
“What? You’re not gonna buy me dinner first?” I roll my eyes, but my heart is racing.
I toe off my boots, undo my jeans, and slowly shimmy them down to my knees. I turn slightly, lifting the edge of my panties to reveal the ink etched along my outer hip and thigh.
Nik exhales softly.
Axel steps closer, and I swear he stops breathing.
Medusa and her serpents snake around my curves. And not just any Medusa. His Medusa. The one he drew for me in high school. She’s fierce, wild, defiant… with snakes for hair, fangs bared, crown crooked like a queen who earned every scar.
“You recognize her?” I ask.
He nods, voice barely above a whisper. “I drew that.”
“I know.” My voice cracks a little. “I kept it. After everything… I wanted something that reminded me of who I was. Who I wanted to be.”
Axel kneels in front of me, not touching, but just looking, like it’s something sacred. Like I am.
Nik approaches. His fingers graze the unmarked part of my thigh, slow and reverent.
“You wear her well,” he murmurs.
“I needed a permanent memory,” I admit. “When everything else felt fake. I just wanted to remember…us.”
Axel’s hands find my waist. “You were always ours. Even when we were too young to understand it.”