HAZEL
Axel opened his eyes slowly.
When he looked at me again, whatever had been burning there before was colder now, controlled, deliberate. That was worse. I’d already learned that when Axel went quiet, someone paid for it.
“You’re done speaking,” he said.
I didn’t reply. I refused to give him that satisfaction.
He turned slightly, resting one hand on the edge of his desk, fingers curling against the wood. “You want to know what your purpose is in this house?” he continued. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”
Remo shifted on the sofa but stayed silent.
“Your purpose,” Axel said evenly, “is not to disrupt the order I built. This house doesn’t revolve around how you feel, Hazel. It survives because everyone knows their place.”
“There it is,” I muttered. “My place.”
His jaw tightened, but he di
