They both staggered to their feet, and the attacker managed to swing at Axel with a heavy book. Axel did a high kick that pushed him back, crashing him into the wire tree. The man stood up with a roar, the bent frame still stuck to his muscular arm. He was still fighting to get that off when Axel hit him with our quartz table lamp.
Somehow the guy managed to duck out of the way and plow into Axel. They both landed on our craft assembly line in an explosion of partially decorated felt balls, sparkles and faux fur.
The man tried to wrap one of the glue gun cords around Axel’s neck, but Axel threw him backward against the table end and the massive lamp that sat on top of it. Everything shattered and flew under his weight.
Outside, Bandit was barking like his life depended on it.
I scrambled around them, trying to stay out of the way.
Axel climbed on top of the intruder and started swinging.
The heavy thuds of his fist connecting with the man’s face reverberated in the suddenly quiet room.
I turned away, my hands over my mouth. Something moved in my peripheral.
“What the hell is going on in here?” My uncle’s voice boomed across the room.
Grisha and Lena were standing in the doorway of the living room.
Axel stopped swinging.
I stood there in shock, and my stomach immediately dropped. What are they doing here?
“My god, what a disaster this place is,” my Aunt Lena exclaimed, looking around my freshly ruined front room.
The big mirror was shattered, and the front of the gas fireplace was cracked. The floor was littered with glass and craft supplies. Three plants were spilled, and furniture was splintered.
The wire tree was bent in half and mangled beyond shape. How many tree decorating hours had we lost in this fight?
Everything was ruined. Only the antique drink cart had miraculously escaped the carnage.
Axel, breathing hard, stood up and stepped away from the man’s horizontal form on the floor. “Grisha.”
“Get on your goddamned feet,” my uncle snarled at the guy.
Axel looked steaming mad. His cheek was cut and bleeding, and he was covered in sprinkles and bits of faux fur.
The guy struggled to get to his feet. He was also bleeding from multiple places on his face, including his ear. He smiled at me wide, showing me a mouthful of blood. He must have rolled on the snowman balls that Anton had been gluing, because he was starting to look like an ugly Christmas sweater. He was something straight out of a Christmas horror.
“Don’t look at her,” Axel warned him.
The guy shrugged at my uncle and spoke in Russian. “She was grabbing my dick like a little slut, and that’s the moment he walked in. Wasn’t my fault she’s as horny as the town whore.”
“Shut your mouth.” Axel’s voice cracked like a whip.
“Make me.” His smile, with his red bloody teeth, gave him a ghoulish look.
I walked over to the middle of the living room as glass and broken Styrofoam crunched beneath my slippers. I bent and picked up the forgotten police Taser.
“You look at her again and it’ll be the last thing you do.”
“Big words for such a little man,” the man taunted. “Maybe your wife wants to know what a real dick feels like.”
“That’s enough,” my uncle said, with little effect. “Are you part of the Volkov family?”
“This is only the start of payback for the little stunt your man pulled at the bar. We’ve got a lot more things coming your way.”
“You come at me again, and I won’t restrain myself,” Axel warned coldly.
