CHAPTER 10

The Extent of My Worthless Anger

W e practiced the defense moves for hours after lunch. We only stopped to eat some dinner—which consisted of mac 'n' cheese—then we trained for another two hours. I bet I can do those moves in my sleep.

I offered to turn on some Downton Abbey, but Henry wasn't in the mood. He slinked off to his bedroom a little while ago, leaving me to my own devices. Naturally I started reading some fanfiction while listening to Justin Bieber's Believe album. "As Long As You Love Me" is playing, a personal favorite of mine, and I mouth along to the words as I read.

I'm something of a fanfiction aficionado. I wrote fanfics as a teenager and retired when I joined the CIA because I had zero spare time. But in the rare moments I do have a moment to myself, I open up AO3 and go to town on some 1D fanfics. Right now I'm reading one where Harry Styles is a vampire.

Feeling the need to set the proper mood, I go back to my Spotify and change it from JB to 1D, picking "Take Me Home" to listen to. "She's Not Afraid" starts playing, and I forgo with mouthing along to the words.

"She's not afraid of all the attention! She's not afraid of running wild! How come she's so afraid of falling in loooooooove?"

I continue to shout the lyrics to my heart's content as I read Vampire Harry sucking the blood of YN, and I am so engrossed in the fun that I don't notice Henry standing in the doorway until the song ends.

"You're so loud I could hear you through concrete," he grumbles, leaning his shoulder against the frame.

I shrug, not embarrassed in the slightest. "It's One Direction."

"That boy band from the UK? Is that who was all over your apartment bedroom walls?" He asks this as if he doesn't know. He literally got me 1D décor.

I roll my eyes, indignant to this overgeneralization. "There was also Justin Bieber, the Jonas Brothers, and an Avril Lavigne poster."

He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement makes me notice his wardrobe: black sweatpants and a Navy SEALs shirt. "Isn't that music for kids?"

I slap a hand to my chest, truly offended. "They are not kid bands! I'll have you know, all of these singers manage to convey complex emotions like love, heartbreak, grief, and hope in a way that is both moving and fun."

He looks like he's trying hard not to smile. "I never knew you felt so strongly about this," he sarcastically remarks.

"I knew you'd be a dick and make fun of me," I respond, burrowing under the blanket I have wrapped around my body.

After a short sigh, he glances at my laptop. "Do you have a favorite?"

"One Direction, easily."

"Why?"

Why indeed? "Because they all originally were solo artists, but through the magic of reality TV, they were brought together and created dozens of beautiful songs. They became brothers by chance. I lost my parents, I wasn't really close with my grandparents, and school was always a nightmare for me…Music was my escape from all of that. I guess the idea of a family you choose was intriguing to fourteen-year-old me."

I can see the understanding in H's eyes, and all humor vanishes. "Do you have a favorite song of theirs?"

I nod, clicking to their album Made in the A.M ., pressing play on "Olivia." H sits down on the end of my bed and listens to the song along with me, his expression its usual stone-cold mask.

About midway, he grunts.

"It's good," he admits begrudgingly.

I give a little victorious cheer inside my head. "I agree…Do you have a favorite band or singer?"

He shakes his head. "I haven't really listened to music outside of the radio for a long time."

"What about before your mom—when you were a kid. What did you listen to?"

He thinks on it for a moment, then he answers, "My mother loved old Hollywood movies because of its music and dancing. She and I would listen to the soundtracks to those movies all the time."

"What movies?"

"Dozens, but Breakfast at Tiffany's and Funny Face were probably her favorites."

I smile at that. "She like Audrey Hepburn?"

"Loved her. Her name was Audrey, and despite what anyone said to the contrary, she claimed she was named after Audrey Hepburn."

I think this is the most he's ever told me about his mom. I didn't even know her name. "Did you like those movies?"

"I liked them because she liked them." His eyes glaze over as he falls back in time through his memories. "To me they were kind of boring, and Breakfast at Tiffany's was really racist. But Mom loved Audrey Hepburn, so we watched them together. She would actually fast-forward through any part of the movie that didn't have her in it for many years. I didn't watch those movies all the way through until I was probably eight. And during any song, she would force me to dance with her in our living room. She let me stand on her feet until I got too heavy."

The image of a smaller, innocent version of Henry dancing to musicals with his mom makes my eyes burn. "Did she have a favorite song to dance to?"

He nods. "‘On How To Be Lovely' from Funny Face . She learned the choreography and would perform the scene seamlessly every time."

I type the name of the song into YouTube and pull up a clip from the movie. The scene shows Audrey Hepburn and another older actress dancing on a stage of some kind. They're wearing a matching outfit that consists of a white dress shirt, black pants, a blue skirt, and a scarf wrapped around their heads. I can see why Henry's mom loved this song; it's catchy as hell, and the choreography is simple and full of energy—a perfect song to dance to.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Henry smile at the screen, but pain is palpable in his gaze. The sight makes my heart clench.

"You know, I've never seen this movie before," I comment as the song comes to a close.

I fully expect him to decline my subtle invitation, but after a moment, he gives me a small smile. "I'd be more than happy to watch it with you."

I give H the task of making snacks while I pirate the movie online. By the time I'm done linking my laptop to the living room TV, Henry comes in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn bigger than my head. He and I assume our usual positions on the couch, with me using him as a pillow, and then we start munching on the mountain of popcorn he made as the opening credits roll.

"H?" I murmur, keeping my eyes glued to the screen.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for sharing a piece of her with me."

His body stiffens a bit under mine, but then he wraps an arm around my shoulders, holding me tightly.

I never liked this house. When Jake started making bank as a lawyer, he insisted we get a place to live that exudes wealth and power, something we never had growing up. Even when I pushed back on this idea, he insisted. He said that the world was ours for the taking, and for a long time, I believed him. I believed we were untouchable, I believed we would take the world and build whatever we wanted on top of the society that betrayed us and left us behind to die.

But now I'm sitting in this gaudy mansion by myself, nursing a bottle of whisky, mourning the dream Jake and I were making a reality.

The coroner prepared his body for burial here in the house. I didn't want to go to a hospital or funeral home where questions could arise. I sat there, staring at his still form for what must have been hours while Jake was embalmed and touched up. By the end, he looked like he was sleeping. I kept expecting his chest to rise, for him to soon wake from his deep slumber. But his chest is hollow, his heart silent. My remaining teammates helped me bury him in the backyard. I took a rock and a Sharpie, making a gravestone to mark his final resting place.

Jacob Harrington

Beloved Brother

Once I was left alone, I knelt to the ground in front of the mound of dirt, and sobbed.

My twin is gone, my other half, the only person I could ever truly trust or depend on. Despite all the precautions we'd taken to ensure his safety, he was taken from me by a hired hitman and his blonde bimbo assistant.

They took the only person I've ever loved, the center of my world, right from under my nose, and now they're hiding out somewhere like the cowards they are.

But I will find them. I will not rest, I will not eat, I will not sleep, I will not surrender. Even if it kills me, I will bring the two of them down. Whatever it takes.