Chapter 12: The Choice Before Fire
Axel crouched near the edge of the camp, hidden behind thick bushes and the breath of the night.
His eyes scanned the area like a wolf circling prey.
Then—he saw them.
Wire. Nails. Salt. Batteries.
A box of rusted tools lay carelessly near a broken crate.
To anyone else, it was junk.
To Axel—it was potential.
It was a weapon.
He looked at the camp again.
Fifteen men. Most of them drunk. Some asleep. The leader too busy with Rachel in his lap to notice the world turning against him.
Axel smiled softly.
He took what he needed—silent hands, quiet steps. No one noticed. No one ever did until it was too late.
Then, without a sound, he vanished back into the woods.
---
He returned to camp just after midnight.
The fire was low. The group was quiet—waiting.
Axel dropped the wires, salt, and batteries beside his bag and lit a cigarette.
He inhaled once, exhaled slow.
Then he spoke. Calm. Cold. Focused.
"Rachel's a traitor," he said.
The group froze.
"She's working with another camp. Fifteen men. Armed. Organized. Slavers."
Jason clenched his fists. Emily looked like her breath had stopped. Hank's eyes narrowed, unsurprised.
"They don't know where we are," Axel continued, "but they will. Rachel's already made her move. We've got two choices."
He held up two fingers.
"One. We take the fight to them tonight. Hit them hard. Take over. Food. Water. Shelter. Maybe even more people to save."
He paused.
"Two. We run. Keep hiding. Wait for the day they come for us, and hope we survive."
He didn't try to convince them. No begging. No promises.
"I'm not forcing anyone," Axel said, turning back to the bomb pieces. "You've got half an hour. Decide."
Then he sat, legs crossed, and started assembling.
His fingers worked in rhythm. Nails for shrapnel. Salt for the burn. Wires for connection. The batteries were old, but he knew how to make them bite.
He built death with the same calm he lit his cigarette.
Behind him, the group whispered.
Argued.
Doubted.
And Axel said nothing.
Because if they chose to run, he'd go alone.
But if they chose to fight—he would teach them how to win.
---
Thirty minutes passed in silence.
No one approached Axel. No one dared speak to him as he worked.
The bomb sat ready at his side now—small, ugly, deadly.
Axel lit another cigarette and waited, his eyes cold embers in the firelight.
Hank stood first.
"I've seen worse men than you. But not many better when it comes to surviving," he said, stepping forward. "I'm in."
Axel didn't nod. Didn't smile. He only flicked ash onto the dirt.
Jason hesitated. His jaw clenched. His eyes were full of doubt, but also something else—resolve.
"I think you're crazy," he muttered. "But Rachel's worse. I'm not gonna let her get away with what she did. I'm in too."
Then came Mary. She looked pale, tired, but strong.
"Those men had women chained. Like animals. If we can stop that…" Her voice shook, but her spine stayed straight. "I'm in."
Emily was last. Her eyes were locked on Axel like she was still trying to figure him out.
"I don't like you," she said. "You scare me."
Axel said nothing.
"But I trust you more than I ever trusted Rachel. Count me in."
Axel crushed the cigarette under his boot.
"Good," he said simply.
He stood and looked at each of them in turn. "You made your choice. No turning back."
Hank nodded.
Mary tightened the straps of her bag.
Jason grabbed his baseball bat
Emily didn't flinch.
Axel walked past them, slow and silent.
"Tonight, we don't run," he said. "Tonight… we hunt."
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