Chapter 25

25

Eli

No matter what Abel says, he’s too stuck in his beliefs to let something as complicated as the truth derail him. When I stood in the ashes of his home, I knew that there was no going back. It doesn’t matter how large or small a role I played; I was partly responsible for that massacre. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I had to move forward in order to ensure that sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.

If he’d asked me this yesterday, I would have told him to fuck off or said something designed to provoke him. But now?

Last night shouldn’t have changed things. Sex never changes things, not in any permanent way. Even knowing that, I can’t deny that I’m conflicted for the first time since I dedicated myself to the path that ended with me leading this faction.

And then there’s Harlow.

I can still taste her on my lips, feel the slide of her skin against mine, see the sadness in her eyes as she mourns the future we could have had. I don’t know if she’s right. Abel’s been gone a long time, and he reminds me of his father more than ever now. Or he did when he first appeared. Now I’m not so sure. There are cracks, and through those cracks I can see the shadow of the man he used to be. The one that I once dreamed of partnering with to bring this faction into a new future.

I take a tiny drink of my coffee and set it aside. “Your father was a monster. Under his rule, the people of this faction were suffering, were dying, because he was too busying chasing his fights and his glorious victories.”

“You don’t have to tell me what my father was like. I know as well as anyone. We talked about it after he hit Cohen, after I stepped in. You knew what I planned on doing.” There’s no heat in his tone, but he watches me carefully. “Your father planned the coup before I had a chance to.”

“Yes.” It’s tempting to pick up the coffee mug, to keep something in my hands, but I’ve trained myself too well to fidget. “I knew he was going after your father and I didn’t tell you.” This part’s harder. Harder to say, harder still to believe. “I thought if we could get Bauer out of the way, we could undermine my father as well. He wasn’t as bad as Bauer, but he wasn’t a saint, either.”

“Why not come to me with that plan? You know how I felt about my father. You knew there was only one endgame for me, and it resulted in my father six feet under.”

Yeah, I knew that. It’s why I did what I did. I take a slow breath, shoving down the past. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. He was your father, Abel. No matter how fucked your relationship, how much you hated him at the end, I couldn’t let you bear the burden of his death.”

His face goes slack with shock for half a second before he recovers. “You’re shitting me. Are you seriously trying to tell me that you did this so I wouldn’t have to kill Bauer myself?”

I’ve gone this far. I might as well finish it. I never considered myself naïve, but it’s impossible to paint me as anything else for believing things would work out that night. That it would end in anything other than disaster. “You’re able to push through a whole hell of a lot when you’re furious, but cold-blooded murder? That was a stretch, let alone planning patricide.”

“I don’t blink at murder any longer,” he says softly.

Maybe not, but if there’s one thing I don’t regret, it’s that he wasn’t the one who ended his father’s life. I spared him that much, at least. It doesn’t make up for the rest, but it’s a small consolation. “I didn’t realize my father had brought in the Mystics and the Amazons. Not until I smelled the smoke.”

I’d been down the street, on my way to tell Abel that he was finally free of his father. I still remember the way my stomach dropped out at the sight of the flames against the night sky. I’d stood there for hours as firefighters showed up to ensure the flames didn’t jump to nearby buildings, as the neighborhood came outside to bear silent witness, as the flames finally burned away to nothing, leaving only ash and death in their wake.

My stomach churns at the memory. I’d thought Abel was in that fire. That, in implementing the action that would set us free, I’d inadvertently caused the death of my best friend. Of the man I loved. Realizing that he survived, that he got all his brothers out… It only made that feeling worse.

Because I knew what he’d believe. That I was behind all of it. That I’d committed a betrayal there was no coming back from.

That everyone would believe it.

I clear my throat. “By the time they realized you and your brothers weren’t among the bodies in the house, you were gone. I knew looking for you was an invitation for them to finish what they started, so I disrupted the hunts as best I could.” It wasn’t enough. Not even close. Every time one of the people my father sent returned a failure, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Until I was able to kill my father and end the hunts once and for all.

Unlike Abel, I have no problem making the cold, unforgivable decision when it means the greater good.

Abel studies me over the rim of his coffee cup. “If that’s the truth, why didn’t you come after me? The transfer of power wouldn’t have been easy, even if Old Town got behind him. The two of us could have done what we’d planned.”

I swallow hard. “What would you have done if I’d shown up in the first year? In the second? Third?”

“Put a bullet between your eyes.” He says it without blinking.

“That’s why I didn’t. There’s a chance that if I found you, my father would finish what he started. But more than that, I couldn’t do it to the faction.” I laugh bitterly. “Forty innocent people died, Abel. I couldn’t let it be for nothing. I couldn’t let him rule for years and do even more damage to the people in Raider faction.”

He’s still watching me with that unreadable expression on his face. “You let your father live for three years past that night.”

I grimace. “He was a canny old bastard and paranoid as hell. I had to let things stabilize, but more than that, I had to wait for him to let down his guard. He died in his sleep.” With a pillow shoved over his face, and my weight holding it in place. The death wasn’t anything closed to the misery he deserved, but if there’s a hell, he’s suffering plenty in it right now.

Eventually I’ll join him, as payment for my sins.

“He died in his sleep.” Abel snorts. “I’ll just bet he did.”

“I’ll do anything for the good of this faction. Anything.”

Abel stares for a long moment and then shakes his head. “You and Harlow are quite the pair, aren’t you? Both such noble martyrs. It’d be sickening if it weren’t so goddamn cute.”

He drinks his coffee, still watching me. “Let’s say I’m in the believing sort of mood. You’ve done this much for the faction. Can’t imagine you like the idea of handing over all that power just because I’m back.”

I don’t, but it’s more than that. I can’t let the faction go back to where it was before we killed Abel’s father. Too many people suffered during those days, and I’ll commit further unforgivable acts to ensure they don’t suffer again. My father? Abel’s father? They saw the throne as power that was their due. Neither of them felt the weight of ruling, the sheer responsibility for every life within the faction.

Not like I do.

“That depends on what your plans are.”

His smile is knife-sharp. “Yeah, that’s not an answer. You planning on pulling a repeat of eight years ago, Eli?”

It’s the only way to ensure the faction’s safety. No matter what cracks Abel has shown me, the truth is that he’s a stranger to me now. I can’t guarantee that he’s not an even worse version of his father. Waiting to see is just paving the way for him to hurt those who can least afford the harm. It won’t be me or Harlow or even Old Town that bears the brunt of his ruthlessness. It will be kids like Harlow was all those years ago. I couldn’t save her then. I can save those nameless kids now, though.

I lift my mug and let the warmth of the coffee seep into my hands. “It would be the smart play to make. You’re an unknown quantity.”

“Oh, I think you know me pretty well by now.”

That surprises a chuckle out of me. “Fucking is different, and you know it.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” He drains the rest of his mug and sets it on the counter. What little joking there was in his expression bleeds away. “I’ll think about what you said, Eli. I’ve had eight years thinking you betrayed me, and I think you’ll understand that I’m not all that willing to pull a one-eighty just because you say so.”

I expected nothing else. Honestly, I didn’t expect a single thing. I wouldn’t have broached this conversation if he didn’t push it, if Harlow didn’t push it. I’m not sure what she’s trying to accomplish, but it aches to talk about this shit. That night is a wound that never quite healed right, and I suspect it’s the same for Abel. We’ve had too long to move through the world with those wounds; they’ve shaped us into the men we are now.

We were friends all those years ago. We might have been more if either of us ever made a move. None of that matters now. The only thing that does is what we do next.

My coffee tastes bitter on my tongue. “Believe what you want, Abel. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness for what I’ve done, but I’ll do worse to keep the people of Raider faction safe.”

He stalks to me, crowding me back against the counter with his bigger body. His proximity goes through me like a bolt of pure lust, and it’s everything I can do not to respond physically. I hold perfectly still. Fuck, I even hold my breath.

He reaches out and loosely brackets my throat with his calloused hand, his expression contemplative. “Come to bed with us again tonight.”

I swallow hard. I want to say yes more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time. “Doesn’t seem wise to go without sleep for too many nights in a row.”

Abel gives me a slow smile that has my cock twitching despite my best efforts. “No one’s getting sleep tonight, and I think you know it.” He squeezes lightly then steps back. “Your choice.”

I watch him walk away, my chest too tight. Yeah, I want to climb back into bed with him and Harlow—the sooner, the better—but there’s no avoiding the meeting with Marie tonight. She’s already pushing against my orders; I can’t afford for her to act on her own because I’m otherwise occupied. She’s never had a problem following orders before, but we’re in uncharted territory in a number ways at the moment.

It’s not until I’m walking the halls, heading for my room, when I realize that Abel didn’t react at all like I expected him to. No instant denial. No telling me that it didn’t fucking matter. Just a mild comment that he’d think about my version of events. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.

I open my door and step into my room. What if—I can barely let myself contemplate it, but—What if Abel believes me? What if he simply lets go of the version of that night he’s believed for so long? What if the future we always dreamed of isn’t actually ash?

I can’t afford to hope, can’t let that desire cloud my decisions and my vision. But I’m only human, and I’ve spent so long mourning the loss of him that the fact that he’s here, that he’s still himself—at least in part—is fucking with me.

For the first time in a very long time, I don’t know what the right path forward is.