Page 9 of Heir of Broken Souls

With tears streaming down his cheeks, and an almost empty bottle of amber liquid in his hands, stands Axel, swaying in the threshold of Ace’s bedroom door.

Chapter3

Knox

Ishould go after her, yet something keeps my feet rooted to the spot. Keeps my eyes averted from the staircase she climbed.

Just keep going.

I let the memory of her voice float through my mind. The only thing that keeps me breathing. Without Delilah, I wouldn’t be able to survive my own thoughts.

I’m worthless.

I’m a fool.

I’m a failure of a king.

I cannot keep my people from harm.

I cannot stop the rising death toll.

My chest constricts with panic. Delilah thinks she knows what goes on inside my mind, but I don’t wish to scare her with the truth. All she sees are the emotions I cannot stop from leaking down our bridge.

I shake away the unending sadness. I refuse to allow myself to sink any further into my depression, fearful that once I let go, I will never come back.

Rolling back my shoulders, I send a mental message to Nolan and Lenox, summoning their presence as I stride into my study—and do everything within my power not to reach for the liquor I so desperately want to drown in.

Chapter4

Delilah

Axel doesn’t flinch nor so much as blink as I gently wrap my fingers around the glass bottle in his hand. Prying the amber liquor from him once he reaches this state is easy.

It’s what comes next that’s hard.

I set the liquor down in the hall and take a steadying breath to steel myself. Yet as I round to stand before him, I still flinch.

Axel’s fighting leathers are in tatters, covered in mud and blood—a mix of black and crimson. I no doubt look similar from the hounds, but when I lift my eyes to his face, that is where the differences between us lie.

It takes every ounce of strength within me to not allow the tidal wave of emotions to rise at the sight of him.

Tears run freely down his cheeks, agony swirling in his forest green depths. His face is etched with pure misery.

The last we saw Axel was thirteen days ago. It’s not the longest he’s been gone, but by the looks of it, this will be the most destructive one to his soul.

Most days, we fret over Axel’s return but dread it all the same. Because for once in Axel’s life, he cannot maintain his carefully curated mask. That shattered the day his twin’s neck was slit before his very eyes.

But what makes me flinch is the fact that Axel, as different as he was from Ace—the yin to his yang—is still his twin.

Something within me suspects that’s why he doesn’t come home, why he doesn’t shave anymore. Sometimes, it’s just hard to look at him.

A lump wells in my throat over the bleary, bloodshot gaze that lifts to mine. I will my tears to subside and cough to cover the sob. Standing before Axel when he’s in this state is the only time I ever truly struggle to shove my emotions away.

Clearing my throat, I wrap my hand gently in his and tug him away from Ace’s room, averting my eyes. I still haven’t looked inside since that night. “Come on, Axel.”

“But I feel him,” he slurs. “He’ll come back here.”

I offer him a sad smile. I don’t disagree, not with the way his words are a jumbled, drunk gargle. I’ve learned from past experiences that it’s best not to try and talk sense into him. All he’ll do is take off for another stretch of time again.