Power of pregnancy

The rain hammered against the window of the dimly lit room, creating a rhythmic drumming that echoed Axel Devereux's restless heartbeat. He stood motionless, his broad shoulders tense, and his hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn leather jacket. The weight of the mission ahead pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. His stormy grey eyes, sharp and unyielding, were fixed on the file spread out across the desk.

The folder contained everything he needed to know about the target-a man who had somehow managed to weave himself into the underbelly of three major cities while maintaining the façade of a respectable businessman. Axel's lips tightened. He'd seen the type before. On paper, they were untouchable; in reality, they were monsters.

He let out a slow breath, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead. The room smelled faintly of rain-soaked concrete and old books. It was his safehouse, the only place he could think clearly. He moved to the desk and flipped through the file again, this time focusing on the photo paperclipped to the top corner. A grainy image of a man with thinning hair and cold eyes stared back at him.

Victor Devereux. His father.

Helena's face flashed through his mind, soft and fragile, with eyes that spoke of a thousand sorrows. She had died when he was barely ten, her body weakened from years of struggle. Her final words still haunted him: *"Survive, Axel. No matter what, survive."*

The creak of the door broke through his thoughts, and his hand instinctively went to the pistol holstered at his side.

"It's me," a calm voice called out before the figure stepped inside.

Elias Remington stood tall and imposing despite his age, his silver hair neatly combed back and his dark eyes sharp as ever. He closed the door behind him and approached Axel with measured steps. "You're distracted," he observed, his voice low and even.

"I'm fine," Axel replied curtly, though his clenched fists betrayed him.

Elias studied him for a moment before gesturing toward the file. "This isn't just another mission, is it?"

Axel hesitated. "It's personal."

"Personal doesn't mix well with the work we do," Elias warned. "It clouds judgment. Makes you vulnerable."

"I don't need a lecture." Axel's tone was sharper than he intended, but he didn't apologize. His grandfather had been the one to pull him out of the chaos of his youth, training him, shaping him into the weapon he had become. Still, there were some wounds even Elias couldn't heal.

The older man sighed and sat down on the worn armchair in the corner of the room. "Then tell me this-what's your plan?"

Axel picked up the photo and held it out. "I'm going to find him. And when I do, he'll answer for everything."

Elias frowned. "Victor doesn't even know you exist. Do you really think confronting him will give you the closure you're looking for?"

"It's not about closure." Axel's voice was cold, calculated. "It's about justice."

Before Elias could respond, the faint buzz of Axel's phone interrupted the conversation. He pulled it from his pocket, his jaw tightening when he saw the name on the screen.

"Celeste," he muttered, swiping to answer.

His half-sister's voice came through, frantic and trembling. "Axel, I need you."

"Where are you?" He was already grabbing his coat, his movements swift and precise.

"I'm at the café near Riverside Park. There's a man... he's been following me."

"Stay where you are. I'm coming."

He ended the call and turned to Elias, who was already on his feet. "Let me guess-Celeste?"

Axel nodded. "She's in trouble."