CHAPTER 142: FIX THINGS WITH HER

~AXEL~

Less than an hour ago...

Layla’s door slammed upstairs, and I flinched. The sound echoed through the house like a gunshot, each echo in my head hammering home just how badly I’d fucked up.

I’d meant to protect her. Instead, I’d shattered us.

Her hurt expression, those tears she’d tried to hide... they haunted me. I should’ve told her about Erica weeks ago. But Tye’s call to bring Erica to court had blindsided me, forcing my hand before I was ready.

Sighing, I pulled out my phone and dialed him. I paced the living room as it rang once, twice, three times before he answered.

"Heard it worked out," Tye said smugly before I could even get a word in. "Erica’s testimony saved your ass."

"Thanks to your unasked-for stunt," I snapped in sarcasm.

"How did she take it?"

"How’d she take it, you ask?" I let out a harsh laugh before sighing. "She’ll be fine, I guess."

Tye laughed, dramatic as always. "You’re welcome, by the way."

"Where are you? We need to talk. Now."

There was a pause, then he sent me an address. Some dive bar on the east side.

I showered quickly, changed into jeans and a black shirt, and drove across town. The bar was dim, private, the kind of place where people minded their own business. Perfect for what I had in mind.

Tye sat at the counter, nursing a whiskey like he didn’t have a care in the world.

I didn’t give him any warning. I just walked up and punched him hard in the jaw. His head snapped to the side, and I saw blood on his lip.

His guards moved instantly, but Tye held up his hands, stopping them.

"Fuck!" He cursed bitterly, then started to laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Should’ve seen that coming. Still got that punch, though."

"You’re lucky I held back," I growled, flexing my knuckles.

"Guessing Layla didn’t take it well."

"She’s pissed. She took it better than expected, which is still a disaster. And it’s because you didn’t ask me first." I leaned in close. "You went behind my back."

"Don’t blame it all on me. You didn’t tell her the whole truth at first, either."

"You don’t get to make calls that break my marriage."

"Marriage?" Tye smirked, touching his jaw gingerly. "Thought it was a contract."

"It was. It’s not anymore." The words came out harder than I intended. "Not that you’d understand."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you don’t get to give me relationship advice when your last one ended so well." I grabbed the whiskey glass in front of him and took a long drink. "What was it again? Oh right, she sold you out to the Volkov family, and you escaped with a bullet to the chest that barely missed your heart. Real romantic stuff."

Tye’s expression darkened. "Low blow, man."

"Truth hurts, doesn’t it? So spare me the lecture about my marriage."

"I don’t do love," Tye said quietly, his voice losing its usual cockiness. "But I do results. And Erica’s testimony won your case. Cassandra’s going down for a long, long time. You can thank me later."

I exhaled, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. He wasn’t wrong. As much as I wanted to stay angry, Erica’s testimony had helped our case.

I grabbed a fresh glass from the bartender and poured myself a generous amount of whiskey, downing it in one go.

"What’s the situation with the mafia?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Quiet so far. Those forged documents are circulating in their network, but no hits yet. They’re buying it, but stay sharp. Could blow up anytime."

"How long do we have?"

"Hard to say. Week, maybe two. Depends on when they decide to verify things."

"Great. Just what I need right now."

"You’ll handle it. You always do." Tye gestured to the bartender for another round. "But seriously, fix things with Layla. You love her, right?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Then stop being an idiot and tell her everything. No more secrets, no more protection bullshit. Just honesty."

"Since when did you become Dr. Phil?"

"Since I watched my best friend punch me in the face over a woman. Must be serious." He grinned, then winced as it pulled at his split lip. "You planning to apologise properly?"

"Working on it."

"Work faster. She’s not going to wait around forever."

I nodded, knowing he was right. I needed to fix this, needed to show Layla that I could be the partner she deserved. Not the one who made decisions for her, but the one who made them with her.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found Helena’s number, which I collected since I assigned her to Latyla, but I’ve never had a reason to use it. I dialled and waited.

"Hello, who’s this?" she answered.

"Axel."

"Boss!" There was a stammer, surprise clear in her tone. "Is everything okay sir? Do you need something sir?"

"Relax, Helena. I need your help with something tomorrow. Can you meet me early? Say, eight o’clock?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

"I’ll explain tomorrow. Just bring your creative expertise."

"Okay, boss."

I hung up and looked at Tye, who was watching me with an amused expression.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just nice to see you actually trying. Most guys would’ve given up by now."

"Layla’s not most women."

"No, she’s not." He raised his glass. "To not fucking it up completely."

"To fixing what I broke," I countered, clinking my glass against his.

We drank in silence for a moment.

"You know," Tye said eventually, "when this is all over and the mafia thing is handled, maybe we should take a vacation. Somewhere tropical. With good whiskey."

"If I’m still married by then, I’ll consider it."

"You will be. You’re too stubborn to let her go."

"Damn right I am."

I finished my drink and stood, tossing some bills on the counter. "Thanks for the talk. And the face you let me punch."

"Anytime. That’s what friends are for."

"Next time, ask before you make moves that affect my life."

"No promises," Tye said with a grin.

I shook my head and headed for the door. My mind was already racing with plans for tomorrow, ways to show Layla that I was serious about making this right. That I could be the man she needed me to be.