Chapter 125 – The Blood Doesn't Wash Off
The cold steel corridors of Redhold whispered beneath Axel's boots. Blood had dried against his skin, flaking with each step, a silent reminder of the man he'd just killed. The soldiers that passed him stared — some with awe, others with fear. Not one dared to speak.
He stepped outside, the night air sharp against his skin. The sky was wide and empty above the towering military compound, stars swallowed by clouds. He looked up for a moment, thinking of Maggie, Alexandria, everything he'd left behind. But the ache inside him didn't reach his face.
Not anymore.
He turned back and walked into the belly of Redhold.
Back into its cold heart.
Back into his new hell.
Inside, he found Michael still standing in the corridor, speaking quietly with his officers. Blood hadn't stained his hands. He hadn't thrown a punch. And yet, he pulled the strings with ease.
Axel stopped a few feet away.
"Where's my room, old man?" he asked, his voice dead of emotion.
Michael didn't answer. Instead, he raised his hand and gestured silently.
A soldier stepped forward — young, clean-cut, and clearly terrified. "Sir. Please follow me."
Axel walked without a word.
The soldier led him through a side wing of Redhold, down a long hallway lit by flickering overhead lights. Metal walls. Reinforced doors. Silent cameras watching.
They stopped in front of a simple gray door. The soldier opened it and stood back.
Axel walked in.
It was bare — a cot, a metal desk, a wall locker, a mirror. Spartan.
He dropped his katana onto the bed. The blade echoed as it hit the metal frame. The sound felt louder than it should have.
Axel peeled off his bloody shirt, kicked off his boots, and stepped into the adjacent shower. The water ran cold. He didn't flinch. He stood under the spray and scrubbed the blood away — the man's blood, the memory's blood, his father's blood that had long stained his name.
But no matter how long he stood there, it didn't wash off.
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out, clean but not cleansed. He dried his face, ran his fingers through his wet hair, and leaned on the sink, staring into the mirror.
He didn't recognize the man staring back.
He barely blinked when the knock came.
A voice followed — crisp, official.
"The General wants to see you, sir."
Axel sighed, grabbed a black shirt, and walked out.
---
Michael sat alone in a small room overlooking the training yard — a map spread before him, red markings dotting the landscape like blood spatter. He didn't look up when Axel entered.
"I was starting to think you were ignoring me," Michael said.
"You know better," Axel muttered.
He approached the table and leaned over slightly, eyeing the map. "What is this?"
Michael finally looked at him. "A mission."
Axel raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sending a team to the western ridge," Michael said. "We've got reports of movement. Possibly a scouting party from the Ashen Circle. I want them neutralized."
"Send your team then," Axel replied, already turning. "You've got plenty of loyal dogs. I'm not one of them."
Michael's eyes sharpened. "I want you to lead them."
Axel stopped.
Then turned back slowly.
"No."
Michael folded his arms. "You're not in a position to say no."
"Yes, I am," Axel said coolly. "Here's what's going to happen — you're going to give me the location, the objective, and you're going to stay out of my way. I'll handle it. Alone. No backup. No leash."
Michael studied him, long and hard. Then — in a way that was both infuriating and eerily calm — he smiled.
"You sound like the man I once raised."
Axel's lips curled into a smirk — but it was hollow, joyless.
"Don't flatter yourself, old man."
Michael stepped forward. "I'm not. I'm acknowledging what you've become. You're strong. Controlled. Ruthless."
Axel snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Michael's voice hardened. "I don't sleep. Not until I know the Circle is dead. Every last one. And like it or not, you're part of that war now."
Axel's jaw clenched. "The only war I care about is the one that ends with me getting the hell out of this place and back to my life."
Michael's eyes narrowed.
"Then finish this," he said. "And maybe, maybe, you can."
He slid a folder across the table. "Coordinates. Names. Intel. The Circle has a forward camp about sixty miles west. They're moving civilians. Possibly starting a new recruitment push. If we let them dig in, they'll spread like rot."
Axel picked up the file and flipped through it. Photos. Maps. A list of names, a few crossed out in red.
He looked back at Michael.
"This isn't a mission," Axel said. "It's a message."
Michael nodded. "Exactly."
Axel turned toward the door.
"I'll leave in the morning."
Michael's voice followed him like a cold wind.
"You're not my prisoner, Axel. You're my son. I gave you this life so you'd have a chance to survive in a world that doesn't care if you live or die."
Axel paused.
Then spoke without turning.
"You didn't give me a life. You gave me a weapon and called it a gift. I needed a father and you needed a solder"
And with that, he left the room.
Michael stood alone in silence, eyes still locked on the folder Axel had taken.
His monster was awake again.
But this time…
He wasn't his anymore.
---
.
.
.
You can contact me through my official page on the following Accounts:
telegram:
miraclenarrator
tiktok:
miracle_narrator
instagram:
miracle_narrator