CHAPTER THREE: WITHERED PETALS.

AXEL’S POV:

Business was good—no, it was flawless. My name alone struck fear wherever it was spoken, and respect was a currency I never ran short of. In every boardroom, back alley, and underground circuit, I was Axel Blackwood: a god among men, ruthless and unyielding. Just the way I liked it.

But there was still an itch I couldn’t scratch. The kind that sank deep, an ache gnawing at my insides every time I closed my eyes. Revenge. I’d returned to finish what had started years ago, blood debts left unpaid. I was patient, though. I’d learned to savor it—blood, sweat, and tears from everyone who’d ever dared to cross me.

Yet, today, the taste of satisfaction had dulled. I’d spent most of my day distracted, my focus slipping. Sea, my six-year-old daughter, had seemed out of sorts, her usual bright chatter dimmed. She’d stood in the doorway of my office, pouting in that way only she could.

“Daddy, you’re always working,” she said, her voice tiny and cracked. “I need someone who can actually be here.”

I’d reached out, pulling her into my lap, smoothing down her tangled hair. “Honey, you have the maids here at all times,” I offered, voice low, as though it might comfort her. But Sea had looked at me with those eyes—the ones she’d inherited from her mother, determined and unyielding.

“It’s not the same,” she’d insisted, crossing her little arms. “The home needs a mummy.”

Sea’s requests were never something I could easily deny. She was the one person in my life I’d never say no to. She was the only reason I hadn’t burned the world down already.

So, if my daughter needed a mother figure, I’d find her one. I didn’t need love or sentiment to complicate things. Just an obedient woman to keep her company, to stand beside me in public, and, possibly, to provide more children for the Blackwood name. Love and affection were weaknesses, things I had no use for. And I already knew exactly who would fit the bill.

I’d had my eyes on her for a while—the broken, battered wife of Chase Grayson. She was exactly what I needed: an obedient toy, someone who’d do what she was told, a plaything in my hands. Nothing more.

As she now stood in my presence, my hands buried in my pockets, I enjoyed the fear my presence brought. She was disoriented like a woman who didn’t know what awaited her. I could see the frailty in her figure, the paleness of her skin against the evening shadows. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders, tangled and messy, her clothes torn and stained. And those eyes—God, those eyes. Haunted and hollow, as if she’d been dragged through hell.

It was perfect.

I ordered Ryan, my most trusted man, to take Sea inside, away from what was about to unfold. My daughter didn’t need to see this side of me, not ever. She was my world. The only sanity to my madness. 

Avery’s gaze darted around, fear and confusion twisting her features. She looked so small, so breakable, and a sick sense of satisfaction churned within me. This was the woman who’d be in my house, serving my needs, keeping Sea company. This was the tool I’d use to turn my plan into reality.

“What’s going on?” Her voice was tiny to my ear, but I saw the defiance in her eyes, almost hidden beneath the exhaustion.

I studied her, taking my time, the silence stretching out until I saw her start to squirm. “Go wash up, Avery. You look dirty.”

Her mouth opened slightly, shock flashing across her face before her expression hardened. “Well, if I hadn’t been forced down here with no warning, maybe I’d have had time for a bubble bath and some makeup.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. She had spirit—perhaps more than I expected. I'd break it in no time. That was what I did best.

I snapped my fingers, and a maid appeared beside me, her movements brisk and obedient. “Take her to the guest suite,” I instructed. “Get her cleaned up. Properly.”

Avery’s lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw clenched. She looked up at me, fiery rebellion in her tired eyes. “I’m not going anywhere until someone has the decency to explain why I’m here.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before I stepped forward, closing the distance between us in one swift move. My hand shot out, wrapping around her neck, holding her in place. She froze, her gaze meeting mine, her breaths coming in shallow, quick bursts.

“Rule one, Avery,” I said, “I. Do. Not. Repeat. Myself.”

Her eyes went wide, fear and fury flashing through them, but she held my gaze. There was a fragility to her, sure, but there was fire too. It intrigued me—she intrigued me. Most people crumbled under my stare, but Avery…she was different.

After a beat, I released her, watching as she stumbled back, rubbing her throat, but she didn’t look away. Her pride was still there, simmering beneath the surface, even as she fought to steady her breathing. This would be fun. I had a new play thing.

The maid moved forward, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. “This way, ma’am,” she murmured.

Avery refused, looking between me and the maid, but eventually, she allowed herself to be led away. I watched her retreating form, my mind turning over the possibilities. I would seriously break her, mold her into what I needed. Her past pain and broken spirit would work to my advantage, ensuring her obedience and submission.

This was just the beginning. She didn’t know it yet, but she was mine now—mine to shape, to control. Every last piece of her would belong to me, and soon enough, she’d understand the rules of this new world she’d entered.

I stood by the door, hands once again buried in my pockets, as I watched the maid lead her up the stairs. Avery’s defiance was something I’d enjoy quashing. After all, I was Axel Blackwood, and no one—no one—challenged me and won.