CHAPTER 6 BROTHERS IN BLOOD
1302 Words
The arena fell into a terrible stillness as Jaxon stared at the man who was supposed to be dead, the man who had once been his shadow, his rival, his twin, his brother.
Rafe Cross.
Alive.
Breathing.
Standing just ten feet away.
But not the Rafe he remembered.
This Rafe’s chest rose and fell with cold control, not emotion. His eyes were blankstorm-gray but lifeless. His arms and shoulders were thicker than before, covered with new scars. The way he moved told Jaxon everything he feared:
Rafe had become a weapon.
Viktor’s weapon.
Jaxon’s throat tightened until he could barely swallow. “Rafe,” he breathed. “It’s me. It’s Jaxon.”
Rafe didn’t react. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.
Lena pressed against her side of the cage. “Jaxon, what is happening?”
Jaxon’s voice cracked. “That’s my brother.”
Lena’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes flooding with tears. The realization hit her like a bladeJaxon had fought this entire time believing he was alone. But the person he loved most, Viktor had stolen him too.
Viktor stood proudly above them, spreading his arms as if introducing a king. “You see, Jaxon, I didn’t just ruin your past. I owned it.”
Jaxon felt heat rising behind his eyes. “You twisted him. You used him.”
Viktor smirked. “He begged to be saved. I merely gave him a new life.”
Jaxon stepped closer to Rafe, ignoring the pain slicing through his ribs. “Brother, I thought you died in that fire. I looked for your body. I”
Rafe moved.
Not a flinch.
Not a breath.
A strike.
He lunged forward with brutal speed, his fist cutting the air toward Jaxon’s head. Jaxon barely ducked, feeling the wind of the punch brush his ear. Rafe followed with a kick to the ribsfast, sharp, perfect form.
Jaxon staggered, groaning as pain flared across his side. The wounds from earlier screamed, but he refused to fall.
“Rafe! Stop!” Jaxon shouted.
Rafe didn’t hear him.
Or if he did, he didn’t care.
He attacked again faster, fiercer. A roundhouse kick. A spinning back fist. An elbow aimed for Jaxon’s temple.
Each hit carried military precision.
Each hit was meant to break him.
Jaxon blocked what he could, deflected what he couldn’t. He refused to attack back, even as Rafe’s blows bruised his bones.
Lena cried out, “Jaxon! You can’t just stand there!”
He growled, “I won’t hurt him.”
Rafe’s knee shot up, slamming into Jaxon’s stomach. Jaxon doubled over, coughing blood onto the sand. Rafe grabbed his head, pulling him into a chokehold, squeezing with terrifying strength.
Jaxon’s vision darkened around the edges.
His body screamed at him to fight back.
But this was Rafe.
His brother.
He clawed at Rafe’s arm, pain exploding in his chest as he gasped for breath.
Around them, the crowd watched in stunned silence no cheers, no chants. Just the heavy sound of struggle and heartbreak.
Viktor’s voice echoed coldly. “Fight or die, Jaxon. That’s what you were born for.”
Jaxon’s knees bent as Rafe forced him down. He dug his fingers into the sand, fighting the urge to blackout. He twisted just enough to rasp out, “Rafe, you’re not my enemy.”
Rafe didn’t loosen his grip.
Jaxon’s lungs screamed for air.
His vision blurred
Until a sound cut through the suffocating haze.
Lena’s voice.
Raw.
Terrified.
Desperate.
“Rafe, stop!”
Shockingly
Rafe paused.
Just for a breath.
Just enough.
Jaxon tore himself free, collapsing onto his hands. He sucked in air like a drowning man.
Rafe stepped back exactly one pace, his face still stone, but something flickered behind his eyes.
Recognition? Memory? Pain?
Jaxon lifted his head slowly. “You remember her voice, don’t you?”
Rafe didn’t answer. His stare was frozen, but not completely empty anymore.
Viktor slammed his fist on the railing above. “Rafe! Destroy him!”
Rafe jerked as if electrocuted. His body snapped back into attack mode. He charged.
Jaxon rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a stomp meant to crush his skull. He pushed to his feet, swaying slightly.
“I’m not fighting you,” Jaxon said, voice trembling. “I’m not losing you twice.”
Rafe spun, throwing a vicious punch. Jaxon caught his brother’s fist mid-air, their forearms locking. For a moment, just a moment the world froze.
Jaxon saw it.
A flicker of memory behind Rafe’s eyes.
A flash of two boys sparring in a dusty backyard.
Laughing.
Bleeding.
Promising to always protect each other.
But the memory slid away.
Rafe twisted Jaxon’s arm, forcing him to the ground. His boot pressed down on Jaxon’s spine.
“Rafe,” Jaxon gasped. “Please.”
Lena screamed again, “Rafe, he’s your brother!”
Rafe hesitated again. His boot lifted slightly.
Jaxon seized the moment, rolling out from under him. He scrambled to his feet, panting, sweat and blood dripping down his face.
He faced Rafe directly. “If Viktor wants a showdown. He can watch me bring you back.”
Rafe lunged.
Jaxon dodged.
He wouldn’t strike him in the face.
Wouldn’t break his ribs.
Wouldn’t aim to kill.
But he would fight to reach him.
Jaxon hit Rafe’s forearm just enough to redirect it. He kicked Rafe’s knee not to injure, but to destabilize. He grabbed Rafe’s wrist, twisting it in a technique they learned as teenagers.
Rafe’s breath hitched his first real reaction.
“You remember this,” Jaxon said urgently.
Another flash in Rafe’s eyes.
Viktor saw it.
And panicked.
“Rafe!” Viktor roared. “End him NOW!”
Rafe’s expression snapped back to dead obedience. He threw punch after punch, each blow trembling harder. His body obeyed Viktor.
But his eyes,
His eyes were fighting.
Lena gripped the bars, shouting, “Rafe! Jaxon never stopped looking for you! He never gave up on you!”
Rafe froze mid-strike.
His hand hovered inches from Jaxon’s face.
His fingers trembled.
His breath quivered.
Jaxon’s voice softened. “Rafe, come back to me.”
Rafe’s lips parted barely. His jaw tightened. The veins in his neck strained like his mind was tearing itself apart.
Then Viktor screamed in fury, “Rafe! If you don’t kill him, I will kill the girl!”
Lena gasped. Her heart hammered. “Jaxon!”
Rafe’s eyes snapped to Viktor, then to Lena.
Something shattered inside him.
A memory exploded across his face a memory Viktor never erased:
Jaxon shields him from their father’s rage.
Jaxon risked punishment for both of them.
Jaxon whispered, “I’ll always protect you, Rafe. Always.”
Rafe staggered backward. His hand shook violently.
“No,” Rafe whispered hoarsely his first spoken word. “No more,”
Jaxon’s heart lurched. “Rafe?”
Rafe clutched his head, screaming as the brainwashing fought back. He dropped to his knees, shaking violently, torn between obedience and identity.
Viktor panicked. “Guards!”
Armed syndicate men stormed toward the cage, weapons raised.
Lena screamed.
The crowd scattered.
Chaos erupted.
Jaxon ran toward Rafe just as bullets slammed into the cage walls.
He grabbed his brother’s shoulders. “Rafe! Listen to me stay with me! Fight it!”
Rafe blinked hard, tears mixing with sweat and blood. “J-Jax,?”
Jaxon choked on relief. “Yeah. I’m here. I’m right here, brother.”
Rafe lifted his head, his eyes, for the first time, truly alive.
Then a gunshot pierced the air.
BANG!
Lena screamed.
Jaxon flinched.
Rafe jerked
And collapsed into Jaxon’s arms.
Blood spread across Rafe’s side where the bullet had hit him.
Jaxon’s scream tore through the arena, raw and broken.
“RAFE!”
The chapter ends with Jaxon holding his bleeding brother as chaos explodes around them.
- Writer
