"Axel—"
"I know." He withdrew his fingers, and then he was there—the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance. "Ready?"
"Yes—"
He thrust in hard. I cried out, fisting the sheets, overwhelmed by the stretch and the fullness and the sheerpresenceof him. He didn't give me time to adjust—just started moving, deep, long powerful strokes that punched the air from my lungs.
"You're mine," he snarled, one hand gripping the back of my neck hard enough to bruise. "Say it."
"Yours—"
"She doesn't get to have you. No one does." He yanked my head back by the hair, exposed my throat, bit down on the tender skin. "Only me."
"Only you—fuck, Axel,please?—"
He pounded me like he was trying to drive out every fear, every doubt, every cold word Chen had whispered. I took everything he gave me—the force, the possession, the desperate need underneath the violence. This wasn't just sex. It was exorcism.
His hand snaked around to grip my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming—pleasure and pressure building to a breaking point.
"Come for me," he ordered. "Now."
I shattered. The orgasm ripped through me, white-hot and devastating, my release spilling over his hand. He followed seconds later, his hands holding a strong grip on my cheeks, burying himself to the hilt and groaning my name as he pulsed inside me.
We collapsed together, breathing ragged, sweat-slicked and trembling.
"I love you," he said into my hair. "Nothing she says changes that."
"I know." I turned in his arms, pressed my face to his chest. "I love you too."
We lay tangled together, letting our heartbeats slow. The rage had burned out, leaving something cleaner in its place.Resolve. Determination. The knowledge that whatever came next, we'd face it together.
"We should shower," I murmured eventually.
"Should." He made no move to get up. "Will in a minute."
"You said that twenty minutes ago."
"Shh." He pulled me closer, and I let myself sink into his warmth.
Outside, the sun was setting. Inside, covered in safety and love, I let myself drift.
The gunshots tore me out of my sleep.
For a moment, I was disoriented—dark room, warm body beside me, the lingering haze of deep sleep. Then the sounds resolved into clarity.
Gunfire. Explosions. Screaming. The unmistakable chaos of war. Axel was already moving, out of bed, pulling on jeans, grabbing his gun from the nightstand.
"Stay here," he ordered.
"Like hell?—"
The window shattered. Glass exploded inward, and I threw myself to the floor on instinct. More gunfire—closer now, inside the clubhouse. Shouts, screams, the thunder of boots on stairs. Axel hauled me up, shoved me toward the bathroom. "Get in the tub. Don't move until I come for you."
"I'm not hiding while people die?—"
"You're not fucking dying either." He kissed me—hard, desperate, tasting like goodbye. "Please, Kai. I can't fight if I'm worried about you." More explosions rocked the building. Someone was screaming Jake's name.
"I love you," I said.
