Chapter 4

4

Axel

"Couldn't have toned it down, eh?"

I hear Luca speak, but can't turn my gaze off her retreating figure. Goddamn it, why did I have to say that? So what if I was feeling aggravated, angry, and wanting to lash out at someone? It just so happened that she was there and she, apparently, cares for me, even if she doesn't know me at all. She thinks she knows me, and that's even worse. I'm nothing like this Xander chap. So what, he was my triplet. We have nothing in common.

He didn't know poverty, or what it felt like to see your mother whore herself out. She wasn't accepted into her own family because of me, and she wasn't very good at fending for herself. When you were a Mafia princess brought up in the lap of luxury, you had no idea how to take care of yourself, let alone your child. Despite her shortcomings, she managed to put a roof over my head and food in my belly. By the time I was sixteen, she was dead. That's when I began to carve out my own empire. Guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree, in that sense.

My mother had never told me about my father's side of the family or the insignificant fact that I was one of triplets. Something she obviously knew, but for whatever reason, she kept hidden from me. All she told me was that she had a falling out with my father, had left him, and her own family hadn't accepted her back. Not after having bedded their enemy and falling pregnant with his child. She refused to go back to them for help, no matter how difficult it was for her. Another reason I was so clear that I was going to make it on my own. Without help from anybody. Definitely not my mother's family. So, if they think I'm going to go all sentimental on them, they're going to be sadly mistaken. All I intend to do is play along until I'm back on my feet and then… Well, I'm going to get out of here.

"Axel, hey, you okay?" Luca calls out.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I growl. "I'm laid up in this bed with you for company. What more could I want?"

"You sent away the only person here who is sympathetic toward you."

And fuck, if I don't hate myself for it. Why is it so difficult for me to accept her concern? Why do I feel threatened by the utter selflessness with which she wants to care for me? Why the hell can't I remember stepping in front of her and taking the bullet as she claims I did? Why would I do that anyway? I've always put my survival ahead of anyone else's… So really, it makes no sense that I would do that.

I rub the back of my head, and my arm trembles.

I hate being so damn weak. The doctor who examined me had told me that it's a miracle I managed to get on my feet and avoid the intruder who had broken in. By all accounts, I shouldn't have been able to move my limbs without assistance, not after being unconscious for more than two weeks. But the adrenaline pouring through my veins propelled me to fight back, and thank fuck I did, else I'd be in a coffin by now. At least, I'd have family at my funeral… My breath catches. The fuck am I thinking? These guys… While they may be blood relations, they're definitely not my family. They are… I'm not sure, exactly, what to call them… Acquaintances, at best. Enemies, at worst. More probably, the latter.

I push myself up to sitting position, then swing my legs over the side of the bed.

"The fuck you up to, brother?" Luca rises to his feet. "What do you think you're doing?"

I place my feet on the ground and push up to standing position. My thighs burn, my calves hurt, and sweat breaks out on my forehead. "Fuck." My knees tremble. Luca closes the distance between us and grabs my shoulder, but I shake it off. "Keep the fuck away from me, asshole."

"Hey"—he holds up his hands—"just trying to help."

"Well, don't." I grab the edge of the bed to steady myself, then holding onto it for support, I take a step forward, then another. My muscles protest, my arm hurts, and my head throbs with such intensity that the edges of my vision begin to darken. I take another step, and my entire body sways.

"You're a stubborn motherfucker," Luca says mildly.

"Didn't get to where I am by being lazy," I say through gritted teeth. I take another step, and my knees give way. I topple forward and hit the floor. "Fuck," I growl. Pain shoots through my chest and arms. My legs feel like they have turned to jelly. I manage to turn over on my back and lay there panting. "The fuck, asshole?" I glare at him. "You could have, at least, stopped me from falling."

"Thought you didn't want my help." He smirks, then holds out his hand.

"Fuck off." I grab the side of the bed, pull, but my muscles refuse to cooperate. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." I grit my teeth, hold onto the side of the bed, and push up, only to fall back panting.

"Come on; don't be an idiot." Luca lowers his arm until his palm is in my line of sight. "Take my hand, asshole," he drawls. "It's not a sign of weakness to take help when you need it most."

I glower at his palm, then raise my hand and manage to grasp his. He pulls me to my feet, and I lean my hip against the bed. He releases me, and I fall back onto the bed and lay there panting. "Fuck, I need to get back on my feet."

"Keep pushing yourself like that, and you'll do more harm than good."

"We'll see about that."

"Do you really think you're going to be back on your feet in two weeks?" He arches an eyebrow.

"That's the plan." I haul myself up the mattress, then collapse with my head on the pillow. Sweat drenches my shoulders, and the hospital gown sticks to my chest.

"Want some more water?" Luca holds out the glass of water with the fucking straw—I hate that straw. When I'm better, I'm going to ensure I'm never near another straw for my entire bloody life. For now, though, I lean forward and take a sip of water, then another, until I have chugged down all of it. He places the empty glass on the bedside table.

"You know, you're as pig-headed as the rest of us."

"Spare me the comparisons," I growl. "I'm not one of you. I'll never be one of you?—"

"Is that why you wanted to kill one of us? Because you hold a grudge against our family?"