blood trail

—he had mounted his bike, about to head back home after he had helped put the twins to bed; he liked doing that, despite his daughter’s regular bedtime tantrums— when Axel’s text came through. right, so this is one of those kind of nights. something had to have ticked the other hitman the fuck off and he was slightly concerned. having known the younger man for a long time now, he knew very well that they were much alike in some aspects; though generally prone to aggression (much like him), Axel was also downright scary when pissed off. a fucking train going off the rails. a hurricane; manic, devouring. unstoppable. but it wasn’t often he had come to witness that side of him —not as off late.

Who do we need to take care of? Just the question caused Axel's anger to spike. He gripped the empty glass in his hand -- his knuckles turning white. "I don't know yet." He said through gritted teeth. He needed more alcohol. He needed something that would, at the very least, calm his nerves. "Unfortunately, I don't have a fucking name."

Axel hadn't wanted to bombard Izara with too many questions while he saw her. He hadn't wanted to overwhelm her, as she clearly went through something horrific. But he needed to know who it was that hurt her. It was something he felt so strong that he felt it in his bones. "She almost died." His voice cracked slightly. "And I wasn't there. She was hurt and I couldn't help her."

"You're awake — " happy eyes on a pale face — ghost like, as if he'd been through the worst night of his life, becase in a way — it was just that. The worst night of his life. Worst than when he broke his arm. Worst than that night Max was shaking and crying in his bed, with withdrawels. Worst than —

His eyes only saddened, when they traced over her frame. Weak, and fragile beneath the white sheet. Broken, bruised —

Where would you be when she's dead? The only thought in his mind for the last eighteen hours.

Who's going to love you, when she's dead?

The man next to her be damned, Luis didn't even bother to glance up at him. If his legs didn't feel like jelly, he might have been by her side quicker. Yet, he moved slow and reached for her hand even slower. "I'm sorry, I — " he swallowed hard the lump in his throat, eyes pooling with tears he did not let roll down his face. She did not need a mess of a friend — but someone she could rely on.

"How are you feeling?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, as he glanced for a moment at the other man — features familiar, yet not enough for a name to resurface in his mind.

She doesn't protest the water either, sipping through the straw. Exhaling when she needs to catch her breath. "Can I get sick from water...?" She croaked, finding it difficult to make a dumb remark when she saw flashes of the garage, of the man with the devil's smile.

He'd smiled. She could have sworn it was glee. He left me there, again and again —

Her breaths rose, eyes flying to the door, as if she expected him the be standing there. Waiting, and waiting til she believed she was safe. Izara didn't want to do that to herself, she knows better now. No more monsters — so many monsters, New York's a beast cradling them all. Involuntary, she lets the trembling words fall: "Thank you, Ax—"

Luis' voice draws her back, and the hand she almost lifted to squeeze Axel's arm stops, falling back to the bed. She isn't sure if he looks as shit as she feels. Both of them, here...

Dread fills the tiniest of openings beside fear, and agony. Spills into the cracks, and has her realising that her worlds are colliding. An old one, and a new one. Shaking her head against the pillow, "Don't apologise, please, no. Not you."

Kit isn't sure she could have broken any more, but the sight of the pair of them, standing — watching over her with those glazed gazes has her exposed; she's being ripped open all over again.

She's not okay. And she doesn't know how to answer Lu's question. She doesn't know how she's feeling. Nothing other than: "It hurts." swallowing, she has Harry in the back of her mind — the impending fear of what is left of her leg, the extent of her injuries. She doesn't want cops either — not yet. Not yet. Please. Luis, tell them not yet. Eyes find their way back to her ex (as they often do), and she implies in her quiet tone: "They called you?" a beat, a moment to realise: "And you came."

Axel had been so consumed by thoughts of Izara, running all the way to the hospital, and seeing her in the hospital bed, that he hadn't even realized someone else was already in the room. Someone he didn't recognize.

Does she have a new boyfriend? He wondered as he stared at the man who was now reaching for her hand. Holding her hand. Jealousy flared in Axel's chest, his eyes hardening the longer he watched the other. It doesn't matter to him how they know each other. Not now. What mattered was Izara.

But then the man asked one of the most stupid questions he could. "How do you think she feels? She's clearly hurting. So maybe assume, not well?" Axel was trying to keep his emotions in check -- he was -- but it was growing harder each second that passed. He wanted to kill whoever did this to Izara. He wanted to break every bone in their body, hear their screams and then cut their tongue out. He wanted to watch them bleed out, slowly, knowing there was nothing they could do to stop him.

Her eyes on him, and her words, distracted him enough from his thoughts. "They did." He nodded. "I'm glad you kept me as your emergency contact." Axel admitted as his eyes found hers. "Of course I came. I--" His eyes shifted to the stranger and then back down to his ex. "I'm not going to leave. I'm here." What he meant to say was that he wouldn't leave again. That leaving in the first place -- he realized -- had been a massive mistake. And he might have said that, had they been alone.

It's a groggy awakening, something between the bliss of numbness and a sharp jagged pain that crawled up her body in vicious intervals. There's a constant beeping, and the blurry sight of a white room. Izara's memories sideswipe her and panic begins to take root where the pain is. Eyes look to the blue and white covers over her body, IV wires slap on the metal frame of the bed as jerking movements try to establish what — where exactly she's hurt —

There's a cast tightly wound around one leg, and a string of cuts that look bandaged or taped on her arms. There's voices outside the room — a face or two as she blinks to her senses.

She's not alone, but it feels that way. Just for a moment.

Before seeing her.

But what he didn't know was that all of the negative emotions he was experiencing, they would vanish the moment he saw the state of his ex girlfriend. When his eyes landed on her body, all he felt was anguish. Who did this to her? Why? I should have been there to protect her. I should have--

"No." Axel swallowed the lump in his throat as he approached her. "No, it's Axel." Why is she expecting Harry? Axel only knew of the man because he kept some tabs on Izara and her life, like who she worked with. He immediately moved towards her and poured her a glass of water, with a straw. Axel held it in front of her face, maneuvering the straw until it was in front of her lips. "Don't drink too fast. You might get sick."

⏤ She chuckled at his teases. ❛ You know me so well, don't ya? ❜ She teases him back. Watching him rubbing gently her wrist to smooth his roughness, then she sat by his side taking her wrist from his hand. And she set the bags between her legs on the floor. ❛ Ah… This? ❜ Her gaze dropped to the fabrics, mostly of the color of pink. ❛ I sew. I saw a dress so I'll copy the design. Sometimes I do my dresses. ❜ She admitted a hobby she does when she feels a tad… Inspired.

"Incredibly well. Some might say the most out of all the others." Another tease. He genuinely didn't know a whole lot about Lux but he hadn't needed to. Just like she didn't need to know him beyond what he enjoyed in bed. Surface level, that's all he had wanted when they slept together. No deep shit. No complicated conversations. No strings attached. That was, until he had decided that he wanted a break from it all.

The two of them hadn't been together in a long while, now.

It'd been too long — he'd made a choice. And whatever he'd gone desperately retreating to, she didn't want to know anything about it. Are you happy, Ax? It weighed on her, putting heavier hooks inside her heart, puncturing her arteries until they spilled out all over her insides. She's choking — struggling to breathe.

Her chest rises and falls shakily where she stands. Iz tries to paly it off as the cold; the wind causing goosebumps to rise on her arms.

This isn't a nightmare. But it could have been; memories of a man emptying lead all over the shop, leaving bigger, less repairable holes and wounds that had nothing on Axel's bloodied hands.

He'd ripped her apart, and now he still believed he could lie to her, and have her worry about all the red slicking his face, and hands.

Is he one of the monsters that her parents had warned her about as a child? The ones who look like man, but behave like —

"You've made it mine by letting me see you." How did he expect her to just walk by a bloodied figuration; a hollow shell of something she once knew perhaps. But whilst he'd become a phantom that haunted her, she still cared. Even if the idea killed her. "Can we go inside somewhere, I'm just down in Harlem." a beat, because she hadn't entirely meant to make it an open offer. "Let me dress those at the shop, then you can run off again, it's fine."

She didn't know that, though. Izara didn't know about the real life he led. He'd been able to hide it for a while, until he felt like it was getting too close to her. Too close to the only person he truly cared about and loved.

Axel pressed his lips together into a thin line. He knew he should have said no. Tell Izara that he could take care of himself and that he wasn't going to follow her to her shop. But the ache in his chest pleaded otherwise. "Alright." He said as he motioned towards the direction she had been walking. "Lead the way, Iz."