Baby Giraffe

Axel.

The basement reeked of fear, piss, and the coppery tang of blood. Shadows clung to the corners like cobwebs, thick and oppressive. In the center of the room, Sergey was strapped to a chair, his face a mess of bruises and cuts.

I circled him slowly, the rage inside me a living, breathing thing. The poker in my hand glowed a dull orange, wisps of heat shimmering off the tip.

"I trusted you, Sergei," I said, my voice a low rasp. "And you betrayed me."

Sergey made a noise halfway between a whimper and a groan. "Boss, please... I can explain—"

I backhanded him across the face, splitting his lip. "Explain? What's there to fucking explain? You went behind my back, you piece of shit. Tried to sell me out to the highest bidder."

His eyes widened, bulging slightly. Blood and spittle flew from his mouth as he shook his head frantically. "No, no, it wasn't like that! I swear, I never—"

"Don't fucking lie to me!" I roared. The poker hovered an inch from his face, and the stink of his fear ratcheted up a notch. "You know what the price is for betrayal, Sergey. You knew, and you did it anyway."

He broke then, sobbing and pleading. But I was long past the point of mercy. The animal in me hungered for blood, and it would have it.

I pressed the searing metal to his chest, the sizzle of flesh and his high, agonized scream a twisted kind of music. The shadows in the room deepened, drawn to the violence like moths to a flame.

My men watched in grim silence, their faces carved from stone. They knew not to interfere, not to question. I was judge, jury, and executioner. The only law that mattered.

Until Roman stepped forward, his eyes hard as flint. "You just fucking got out of jail, bratan!" he snapped, ripping the poker from my hand. "Is this really how you want to spend your first day of freedom?"

I rounded on him, seeing red. He was the only one with the balls to challenge me like this, and it was only because of our history that I didn't rip his fucking throat out.

"I'll stop when he's suffered enough," I snarled.

But Roman didn't back down. He knew the darkness in me, had seen it up close too many times to count. And yet here he was, still trying to pull me back from the brink.

He was my opposite: fair to my dark, with pale gray eyes instead of blue. But our bodies were built for battle, covered in tattoos that told our stories. His showed his loyalty and courage to our cause, even when it pushed me to the brink of anger.

"Go after Viktor," he said, his voice hard. "That's where your real anger should be directed."

I took a step toward him, fists bunched. But he didn't back down. He'd been my stand-in for far too long, and he knew me better. In that moment, I realized just how lucky I was to have him by my side. But that thought alone didn't ease the scorching rage in my chest.

"Don't you dare mention that name under my roof again, mudak," I glared at him.

He glared right back, completely uncowed.

"It's not even been twenty-four hours, and you're already at each other's throats," a voice cut through the tension, causing a frown to rest on my face. That voice...

The stocky shape of the third member of our triumvirate emerged through the door that led to the basement. Nikolai Orlov had a frown etched on his face, not one of anger, I knew him well enough to know that was perpetual.

"Don't you start on me too, Nikolai," I growled; it was a clear warning, yet he ignored it.

"I don't know what started this standoff, but listen to Roman, Axel. You know he's the only one of us who ever makes sense."

Nikolai's presence filled the room as he entered it. Hardly surprising; at 6'5", he was a monster of a man. Cold blue eyes stared out from a face that might have been too pretty if it wasn't for the scars that marred it. One of the hazards of his job as an enforcer.

"He's not making sense now," I muttered dryly. Nearby, I could hear Sergey squirming in the bonds, obviously in pain. He was a traitor, after all.

"Roman kept the business afloat for four years." Nikolai didn't need to remind me, but of course, he did anyway. "You don't know how much of a shit show it was when you weren't here—"

"And you think I was sipping wine in jail?" I snapped, not letting him finish. "My father's body had barely begun to grow cold in the grave before my uncle started plotting with my men to take over. I couldn't even grieve properly."

"You shouldn't dwell in the past, Axel," Roman said, and I glared at him again.

"What do you know of grief?" I barked.

"Focus on the good," Roman continued, "you have a roof over your head and a business to call your own. Everything you see here belongs to you now, bought with the profits of your own business. This is your legacy we've been building while you've been away, Axel. Viktor can never have a claim to it."

I stared at him for a moment. "What is this nonsense you're spewing? I have a legacy already, and it was stolen from me. I will not rest till I have reclaimed the entire Yakov fortune from that thieving pig. The entire Chicago underworld is mine; that is my legacy. I will not settle for the fucking crumbs that are left over," I snarled.

Roman shook his head. "The last time Viktor came at us, you ended up in jail, bratok."

"You're not my brother!" I snapped.

"Really?" he asked. "Because Nikolai and I shed blood for you, for your legacy. Took bullets that left scars that will never fade. And that was when Viktor had only a fraction of the backing of the entire Yakov militia. Think about what he'll do with all that power now," Roman said.

Nikolai nodded in agreement. "But enough of this," he added. "You can argue about it later." He motioned for me to follow him. "Roman and I busted our asses to throw you a welcome back party upstairs. I even brought in a pretty blonde to help you break your four-year celibacy streak. She's waiting now with pussy hot and steamy for you." He grimaced. "You don't want to waste all that with this trash."

"I'm busy," I snapped, then stopped short as a loud bang shattered the air.

A sudden force caused Sergey's head to snap back with a loud crack, the impact spattering his skull against the wall behind him. He went completely still, blood dripping from the back of his head onto the floor beneath the chair.

"There. Looks like your schedule just cleared up," Nikolai said, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of what had just happened.

I wanted to argue, to push back against their demands. But I could feel the anger inside me starting to ebb, replaced by a sense of weariness that was all-consuming. It was as if the fight had gone from me, and I was left feeling strangely deflated.

I watched Nikolai and Roman exchange glances, in that moment, all I saw was a shared bond.

"Come, Axel," Roman said, his voice softening. "Let's go upstairs and celebrate your homecoming."

I groaned but did what he said, falling in step with them as we left the basement. I was numb inside, my head reeling from the rush of rage I had just succumbed to.

We moved through the lavish halls of my mansion, and I admired the luxurious decor Roman and Nikolai had set up while I was in jail. Crystal chandeliers reflected a warm light over the room, and paintings and sculptures spoke of my wealth and power. As we navigated the endless rooms and passageways, I was awed by their efforts but remained steadfast in my goal to reclaim what was mine.

The party was in full swing as I stepped through the door of the grand ballroom. Laughter and conversation mixed with the tinkling of glasses and the swish of silk as guests mingled. I was accosted almost immediately.

"Axel Yakov," a woman purred. "You must be so... pent up after all that time locked away. I'd love to help you release that tension." The flirtatious vixen sidled up to me, her fingers trailing like fire along my arm, pushing her huge tits toward my chest.

My body was fucking hungry for touch, for carnal pleasure. Four goddamn years in jail had left me starved and desperate for intimacy, and I couldn't fucking deny that my hormones were in sexual overdrive. But there wasn't a chance in hell I was screwing this woman.

What had gotten into me?

"Go find someone else," I snarled, my words as sharp as frostbite.

She gaped at me, taken aback by my frigid dismissal. Desperate to save face, she forced a smile and sauntered away, setting her sights on some other unsuspecting prey.

The bass thumped through my body as I moved through the party, feeling the eyes of countless women on me. They were drawn to the danger that surrounded me, the hint of violence that lingered in the air. I should have been reveling in the attention, drowning in pussy. Instead, I made my way through the throng, avoiding engagement.

Finally, I stood in a corner, observing the cattle parade. The mansion was filled with the rich and powerful of the city. The glamorous set, the beautiful people... But my attention was drawn to a clumsy waitress who kept stumbling over her own feet.

I coughed out a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Nikolai asked as he joined me.

"Her." I grinned at him, nodding toward the waitress. "That girl over there. She's a walking disaster."

Roman chuckled as he slid up beside us and peered in the direction I'd been staring for the past half hour. "Don't tell me you've found yourself another clumsy bitch."

I shot him a look of warning.

Nikolai shook his head. "You can't deny it, Axel. You've always had a soft spot for the underdogs."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't deny the truth of his words. Maybe it was because I knew what it was like to be underestimated, to be counted out before the game had even begun.

But as I watched the waitress stumble and nearly drop her tray again, I could feel something stirring inside me that went beyond just entertainment. Maybe it was the fact that I'd been locked up for four years with nothing but my own hand for company. I watched her as she made her way around the room, her tray of drinks shaking in her hands.

"She looks like a baby giraffe trying to walk for the first time," I muttered. But there was something alluring about the way she moved, like she was dancing to a song only she could hear.

Roman raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying you have a thing for baby giraffes?"

I ignored him and crossed the room toward the waitress, my eyes roaming over her tight little body. She might be a walking disaster, but I couldn't deny the appeal of those slender legs, that pert ass. Four years in prison had left me hungry for a woman's touch, and she was looking more and more like the perfect appetizer to take the edge off.

Well, well, well. It seemed I had just found the cure for a very dull evening.

***