Chapter 2: Blood and Ashes

EMILIA POV

I stared at the phone for a full minute after Marco hung up.

"Who's Axel?" Sofia asked quietly.

My throat felt like tight. "My brother's best friend."

"And?" Sofia prompted, settling back on the couch.

I set the phone down with shaking hands. "And the reason I left home in the first place."

The tequila burned in my empty stomach. I hadn't eaten since the plane landed six hours ago. Six hours ago when my biggest problem was surprising my cheating fiancé.

Now my father was dead. The Iron Serpents were at war. And Axel Cruz was coming for me.

Sofia poured another shot and pushed it toward me. "Start from the beginning."

"I was sixteen," I said, downing the tequila. "He was twenty, two. Marco's best friend and Dad's enforcer."

"Enforcer?" Sofia raised an eyebrow.

"The guy who collects debts and handles problems," I explained. "With his fists usually."

Sofia nodded. "Okay, so older guy, dangerous job. I'm guessing your dad didn't approve?"

I laughed bitterly. "Dad caught us together and threatened to have Axel killed if he ever touched me again."

"Jesus." Sofia whistled low. "So what happened?"

"Axel left that night," I said, my voice getting quieter. "Six years ago. Didn't say goodbye, didn't explain. Just disappeared."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

I shook my head. "Marco said he's been working as a gun, for, hire across the country."

"But now he's back," Sofia said.

"Now he's back." I stood up and started pacing. "And Marco's sending him to get me."

Sofia watched me wear a path in her carpet. "You're scared."

"Terrified," I admitted. "Six years, Sofia. Six years I've spent trying to forget him, and in one phone call, it all comes rushing back."

"What was he like?" Sofia asked softly.

I stopped pacing and closed my eyes. "Dangerous. Beautiful. The kind of man who could make you forget your own name with just a look."

"Sounds like the opposite of David."

"Completely." I opened my eyes. "David was safe. Predictable. Everything Axel wasn't."

"And how did that work out for you?" Sofia asked with a knowing smile.

I groaned and collapsed back on the couch. "Point taken."

My phone buzzed with a text. Unknown number: Pack light. I'll be there in eight hours. ,  A

I showed Sofia the message. "He has my number."

"Of course he does," Sofia said. "Question is, what are you going to do?"

"Go home for the funeral," I said automatically. "Pay my respects to Dad, support Marco, then come back here and figure out my life."

"And Axel?" Sofia asked.

I stared at the text message. "Avoid him as much as possible."

Sofia snorted. "Good luck with that."

"I'm serious. Six years is a long time. People change. I've changed." 

"Have you?" Sofia challenged. 

I didn't have an answer for that.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Sofia helped me pack a bag with clothes suitable for a funeral and a desert town. Black dresses, low heels, and the leather jacket I'd shoved in the back of my closet four years ago.

"You should wear this," Sofia said, holding up the jacket.

"I can't." I took it from her, running my fingers over the worn leather. "This isn't who I am anymore."

"Maybe it's who you need to be," Sofia said gently.

I folded the jacket and placed it at the bottom of my suitcase.

At six AM, Sofia made coffee and we sat in her kitchen, watching the sunrise through the window.

"You know he's going to be different," Sofia said.

I nodded. "Six years of violence changes a person."

"Are you different?" Sofia asked.

I thought about the question. Was I? I'd spent years building walls, creating distance between myself and the girl who'd fallen for a dangerous man. But tonight, when David had insulted my father, the old Emilia had surfaced instantly.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Well, you're about to find out," Sofia said, checking the time. "He should be here soon."

My stomach twisted with nerves. "What if I can't handle seeing him again?"

"Then you deal with it," Sofia said firmly. "You're stronger than you think, Em. You survived losing your first love and built a whole new life. You can survive a few days at home."

"What if" I started.

A knock at the door cut me off. Sofia and I looked at each other.

"That's not the mailman," Sofia whispered.

Another knock, harder this time.

I stood up on shaky legs. "It's him."

"Are you sure?" Sofia asked.

"I'm sure." I'd know that knock anywhere. Axel never asked for entry; he announced his presence and expected the door to open.

I walked to the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. Took a deep breath and opened it.

Axel Cruz stood in the hallway like a nightmare came to life. Taller than I remembered, broader through the shoulders, with new scars mapping his face and hands. His dark hair was shorter now, his green eyes colder. A leather jacket stretched across his chest, and I could see the outline of a gun under his left arm.

But it was still him. Still the man who'd held me in the shadows behind the clubhouse and promised me forever.

"Hello, princess," Axel said, his voice rougher than I remembered.

"Don't call me that," I managed, gripping the doorframe to keep my knees from buckling.

Axel's mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Still got that temper."

"What do you want?" I asked, though I already knew.

"Marco sent me to bring you home," Axel said, his gaze traveling over my silk pajamas and robe. "Are you ready?"

"I need ten minutes," I said, starting to close the door.

Axel's hand shot out, stopping the door. "Five."

The contact sent electricity up my arm. His hand was bigger than I remembered, scarred across the knuckles from years of fighting.

"Ten," I said firmly.

Axel stepped closer, and I caught the scent of leather and motor oil that had haunted my dreams for six years. "Five, or I come in and pack for you."

My breath caught. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Axel said softly.

Sofia appeared behind me. "I will get your bag."

She disappeared, leaving me alone with Axel in the doorway.

"You look different," Axel said, his eyes cataloging the changes in my appearance.

"So do you." I took in the new scars, the harder edges to his face. "Rougher."

"Six years of fighting for money will do that," Axel said casually.

"Is that what you've been doing?" I asked, hating that I cared.

Axel's smile turned sharp. "Among other things."

Sofia returned with my suitcase. "All set."

I took the bag from her, suddenly not wanting to leave. "I will call you," I told Sofia, hugging her goodbye.

"Be careful," Sofia whispered in my ear. "But maybe be a little reckless too."

I pulled back and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Sofia glanced at Axel, then back at me. "You know what I mean."

Axel took my suitcase without asking. "Car's downstairs."

I followed him to the elevator, acutely aware of his presence beside me. He'd always been big, but now he seemed to take up all the available space.

"Nice building," Axel commented as we descended.

"It's temporary," I said automatically.

"Everything's temporary, princess." Axel glanced at me. "Some things just last longer than others."

The elevator doors opened, and he led me to a black motorcycle parked at the curb.

I stopped walking. "We're not taking that."

"We are," Axel said, securing my suitcase to the back of the bike.

"I don't have a helmet." My voice sounded desperate even to my own ears.

Axel pulled a spare helmet from the seat. "Now you do."

"I can't," I said, taking a step back. "I haven't been on a bike in years."

Axel moved toward me slowly, like I was a spooked animal. "It's like riding a bicycle."

"That's not the same thing," I protested.

Axel stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "You afraid of the bike or afraid of me?"

"Both," I admitted.

Something flickered in Axel's eyes. Almost like approval. "At least you're honest."

He held out the helmet. "Your choice, princess. The bike, or I throw you over my shoulder and put you on it anyway."

I stared at him. "You're serious."

"Dead serious," Axel confirmed.

I snatched the helmet from his hands. "I hate you."

"No," Axel said, swinging his leg over the bike. "You don't."