Chapter Seventy-Eight: What He Took, What He Claimed
615 Words
-----Axton's POV-----
She walked away.
Helen. His Helen. And this time… he didn’t stop her.
Because if he had, she would’ve screamed. Not in fear. Not in hate. In heartbreak. And that? That would’ve destroyed him more than any bullet ever could.
He stood alone in the corridor, the cold air prickling down his neck, blood still drying on his skin, and the image of her eyes—broken and betrayed—looped in his mind like a punishment.
She knew now.
And now she doubted everything.
Not just what he’d done.
But who he was.
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The cleanup was clinical.
Efficient. Methodical.
And utterly pointless.
Because no matter how much blood they wiped from the floor or how many bodies they zipped into black bags, none of it would clean the taste of her absence from his mouth.
She’d looked at him like she didn’t recognize him.
He hated that.
He hated himself.
He hated the part of him that hadn’t lied—because the lies would’ve been easier. The truth? The truth cut her. And now he was bleeding from it too.
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Price approached as he scrubbed dried blood from the hilt of his blade.
“You all right?”
Axton didn’t look up.
“No.”
Price exhaled slowly. “She’ll come around.”
“Not if she’s smart.”
That earned a grunt.
“You regret it?” Price asked.
Axton didn’t answer.
Not at first.
Then, finally:
“I regret she had to find out that way.”
Price nodded.
Axton looked up.
“But I don’t regret watching her. Not once. Not for a second. I watched her because the first time I saw her, I felt alive.”
“Not creepy at all,” Price muttered.
Axton smiled bitterly.
“I knew she was too good. Too soft. I wasn’t ready to be seen. So I hid in the shadows and learned her instead. Every smile. Every sigh. Every tear she wiped away when Jason made her feel like she didn’t matter.”
He stood, rolled his shoulders.
“I let him stay in the picture long enough to make her walk away. Because she had to choose it. It had to be her choice. And when she did? I finished it.”
Price leaned against the table.
“And now?”
“She’s pregnant.”
“I figured.”
Axton’s voice dropped.
“She’s carrying my child. She has my daughters.”
“She’s not yours if she doesn’t come back.”
“She will.”
“That confident?”
Axton nodded.
“She’s the mother of my children now. Not just the one she’s carrying—all three. Lily and Emma? They’re mine. Jason’s blood means nothing. They’re mine now.”
“You gonna tell her that?”
“She knows. She’ll see it. When she breathes again. When her head clears.”
“You really think she can forgive you?”
Axton stared at the floor.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“But I’d kill again if I had to. I’d do everything I did again.”
He looked at Price then, voice hollow but steady.
“She made me feel like I wasn’t a monster. And if I have to drag her back into my arms to remind her what she is to me? I will.”
Price didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
He just handed Axton a rag to clean his blade.
And Axton stared down at the reflection in the steel.
Not a man.
Not a hero.
A predator who fell in love with the light.
And now? Now he had to find his way back to her.
- Writer
