41. Forty

The autumn sun stabbed at heavy gray clouds as I guided my SUV down the curvy state route toward Boone's Junkyard. Barren trees reached skeletal fingers towards a sky made of lead, the last leaves stubbornly clinging to death and hoping for life. Frost rimed the dead grass and crept across the cracked asphalt, turning the world into a monochromatic wasteland. It was going to snow soon, maybe even before Thanksgiving.

I parked the car at the entrance to the junkyard. The rusted husks of long-abandoned vehicles piled up in heaps everywhere, strangely resembling how I’d always imagined an elephant graveyard might look. In the distance, I could see the doublewide trailer where Boone lived with Xion.

Xion, who was supposed to be his captive, or at best, his ward. Instead, I had the sneaking suspicion Boone was developing a thing for my brother. I’d felt it on my last visit, the attraction building up between them like static in the air. It was the worst possible thing that could happen. If Xion got Boone wrapped around his little finger, Boone would never hand him over to Algerone, not for all the money in the world.

I slammed the car door shut with more force than necessary, the metal frame shuddering beneath my hands. The cold bit at my exposed skin as I strode towards the doublewide, purpose quickening my steps. Dead leaves crunched under my boots, disintegrating into icy shards.

Rescuing Dani consumed my thoughts these days. Those zealot bastards had stolen her away to Malaysia, far beyond my reach. I needed more than my skills and resources to bring her home. As much as it pained me, I had to consider working with others. Mercenaries. Criminals. Anyone who could help.

Boone's crew had potential. Six highly trained soldiers of fortune could accomplish a lot. But Malaysia was a world away. They lacked the funds, gear, and connections for an op of this magnitude. It would be a suicide mission. I'd be leading lambs to the slaughter and losing my best chance at recovering Xion in the process.

No, I needed someone with deep pockets and international pull. Someone like Algerone.

So why wasn’t I knocking on his door right now, cutting a deal to hand over my wayward brother in exchange for my sister? It wasn’t as if Xion and I were close. He’d spent the last five years institutionalized and hated me for not rescuing him. Actually, he hated all of us Laskins for not being there for him, and who could blame him? The family hadn’t reacted the best at the time.

But how was a family supposed to react when one brother has a schizophrenic break and attacks another? How did a family torn apart by violence find a way back to being a family again?

One thing was for certain. Selling Xion to Algerone wasn’t the way. Maybe there was no way back, though. Perhaps I was wasting my time here, and I should cut my losses, make the trade.

Or maybe it was time for me to accept that Dani was gone and embrace the family I had left.

Boone greeted me at the door with a grunt, stepping aside so I could enter. His two mutts were in their cages, but they went wild as soon as I walked in, slobbering and barking like maniacs. I growled at them and the dogs immediately fell silent.

“Christ, Shepherd,” Boone mumbled.

I stalked into the doublewide, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. The interior reeked of cigarette smoke, stale beer, and dog. Dishes were piled in the sink and empty pizza boxes littered the counter. Boone had never been much for housekeeping.

“Where's Xion?” I asked gruffly, not in the mood for small talk.

Boone jerked his head towards the back. “In his room. Been real quiet today.”

I grunted and made my way down the narrow hall. The floorboards creaked under my weight. I paused outside the door at the end, listening intently, but heard only silence. Taking a deep breath, I turned the handle and entered.

Xion sat hunched on the unmade bed, staring blankly at the wall. He didn't acknowledge my presence. The room was a disaster—clothes strewn everywhere, books scattered across the floor, the acrid stench of cigarette smoke clinging to everything. A full ashtray teetered on the nightstand.

I sighed heavily and moved to open the small window, letting in a gust of frigid air. Xion finally stirred at that, glancing up at me with dull, lifeless eyes. It pained me to see him like this, a mere husk of his former self, but controlling his outbursts had proven more difficult than I expected. I wasn’t experienced enough in this area to be treating him, and my personal stake in his health complicated things. He needed another doctor. A better doctor.

I stepped further into the room, my boots crunching on discarded chip bags and soda cans. The squalor turned my stomach. How could anyone live like this, let alone recover in such filth? I made a mental note to have a stern discussion with Boone about cleanliness and its impact on mental health.

“Xion,” I said gently, perching myself on the edge of the sagging mattress. “How are you doing?”

Slowly, Xion lifted his gaze to meet mine. In the pale light filtering through the grimy window, his eyes were the color of ashes, devoid of their usual glimmer. Dark circles bruised the delicate skin beneath, stark against his pallid complexion. He looked like a ghost, wasting away in this dilapidated trailer.

“I'm surviving,” he rasped, voice rough from disuse. “Same as always.”

I nodded, unsurprised by his bleak assessment. Surviving was the best most could hope for in his condition. Thriving remained a distant dream.

“And the hallucinations? The delusions? Have the meds been helping at all?” I pressed.

Xion huffed a bitter laugh, thin shoulders twitching beneath his stained t-shirt. “The meds. Right. Because pumping me full of chemicals is going to magically make my brain normal again.”

I exhaled slowly, tamping down my frustration. Xion's attitude towards treatment had always been a challenge, but I couldn't let it deter me. His recovery depended on finding the right combination of therapy and medication. If he wouldn't advocate for himself, then I had to do it for him.

“The chemicals, as you put it, are intended to correct the imbalances in your brain chemistry,” I explained patiently, as if to a petulant child. “With time and adjustments, we can alleviate your symptoms and improve your quality of life. But it requires cooperation on your part.”

Xion scoffed and looked away, picking at a loose thread on his ratty jeans. “Quality of life," he muttered. “What a joke. You think being doped up and locked away in this shithole is living? You think I enjoy being babysat by Boone?”

His words dripped with venom, but I sensed the undercurrent of pain beneath the vitriol. Xion was hurting, feeling abandoned and betrayed by the family that was supposed to protect him. I couldn't fault him for his anger, but I also couldn't let it consume him.

“This is temporary,” I assured him, injecting a note of steel into my tone. “A means to an end. We're working on getting you the help you need, somewhere better equipped to handle your condition. Somewhere you can heal.”

Xion's lips twisted into a sneer and his hand shot forward. Nicotine-stained fingers curled around my collar. “Get me the fuck out of here, Shepherd, or I swear to God I’m going to fucking lose my shit and kill somebody.”

I held Xion's wild-eyed gaze, unflinching even as his fingers dug into my flesh. Desperation rolled off him in waves, his body trembling with barely contained rage. I knew that feeling all too well—the helplessness, the frustration, the sense that the world was closing in. But I also knew that giving in to those emotions would only lead to ruin.

“I understand your anger,” I said calmly, reaching up to pry his hand from my collar. “But threats and violence will not serve you here. We're on your side, Xion. We want to help you.”

Something flickered in his ashen eyes then, a glimmer of vulnerability quickly swallowed by the madness. He released his grip and slumped back against the wall, suddenly seeming small and frail.

“I don’t care whose side anyone is on,” he whispered, voice cracking. “No one is on my side. I want to get out of this place.”

I sighed, staring down at my hands. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time. “I’ll see what I can do, Xion. In the meantime, I’m going to adjust your meds again. I need you to keep taking them as prescribed.” I stood from the bed, adjusting my collar. “And clean this mess up. You’d be surprised how much better you’ll feel in a cleaner environment.”

Xion snorted at that and reached for his cigarettes. Giving those up would help him too, but I didn’t push the issue. Better the cigarettes than another bloody attack.

I left Xion to his cigarettes and squalor, my boots thudding heavily on the warped floorboards as I made my way back to the living room. Boone was sprawled on the sagging couch, a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He glanced up as I entered, his expression unreadable.

“We need to talk,” I said brusquely, not waiting for an invitation before settling into the armchair across from him. The upholstery was threadbare and stained, smelling faintly of mildew. I ignored it, fixing Boone with a piercing stare.

He shifted uncomfortably, setting his beer on the cluttered coffee table with a hollow thunk. “About what?”

“About Xion. It's time to transfer his care to someone else. Someone better equipped to handle his needs than you.”

Boone frowned, his brow furrowing. “I can handle the pup just fine.”

I leaned forward, elbows braced on my knees. “You understand this was only supposed to be temporary, Boone? Our agreement was that you would hold on to him—”

“Until he was stable,” Boone finished. “He ain’t stable, so he ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

I ground my teeth, frustration simmering in my veins. Boone was playing a dangerous game here, one he couldn't hope to win. Did he think he could go back on our deal without consequences? I was a Laskin. We always collected our debts, one way or another.

“Don't mistake my patience for weakness, Boone,” I said slowly. “We had an agreement. You've been well compensated for your services. Going back on your word to me would be…unwise.”

Boone's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath the scruff of his beard. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm stickin' to the agreement just fine. Kid ain't stable, so he stays with me. Ain't my fault you didn't put a time limit on this arrangement.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Careful, Boone. You're treading on thin ice. I'd hate for you to fall through.”

We stared each other down, the tension crackling like electricity in the air. The dogs began to whine, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Finally, Boone looked away, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly.

“I'm just tryin' to do right by the pup,” he muttered. “The agreement is still in force.”

I stared hard at Boone, my jaw clenching. The man had a point. Xion was far from stable. But that didn't change the fact that Boone was getting too attached, too protective. It would only make things more difficult in the end.

I exhaled through my nose, a muscle ticking in my cheek. Arguing with Boone was like talking to a brick wall. The man was stubborn, immovable, and utterly infuriating. But I knew when I was beaten, at least for the moment. Pushing harder now would only make him dig in his heels further.

“Fine,” I bit out, rising to my feet. “But don't get too comfortable with this arrangement. It's not permanent, and it would behoove you to remember that.”

I scribbled down a few new prescriptions for Xion, gathered my things and left the trailer, more certain about my choice than before.

The bitter wind bit at my exposed skin as I stalked away from the doublewide, gravel crunching beneath my boots. Gray skies pressed down from above, heavy with the promise of snow. I yanked open the door to my SUV and slid inside, slamming it shut behind me with more force than necessary. The vehicle rocked on its suspension, groaning in protest.

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles whitened, staring out the frosted windshield without seeing. Frustration simmered in my veins. Boone's obstinance grated on my nerves like sandpaper. The man was a damn fool, letting his emotions cloud his judgment.

I huffed out a breath, fogging the chilled air. Boone was a simple man, driven by base instincts and misplaced loyalty. He didn't understand the intricate web of obligations and debts that bound the Laskin family. He couldn't comprehend the sacrifices that had to be made for the greater good.

But I understood. I understood all too well.

Jaw clenched, I fished my phone out of my pocket and punched in the digits Algerone had given me. It rang twice before a cultured voice answered, smooth as aged whiskey. “Shepherd Laskin. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I want to know what you plan to do with Xion once you have him,” I said bluntly, in no mood for pleasantries.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, broken only by the faint crackle of static. Finally, he sighed, a soft exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of the world. “Xion is my son, Shepherd. My flesh and blood. All I want is to be a father to my sons. Is that so difficult to fathom?”

I pressed my lips into a thin line, Algerone's words settling like lead in my gut. Could it be that simple? That all this powerful, dangerous man wanted was a chance to be a father to his wayward sons? It seemed too good to be true, a pretty lie wrapped in silk and shadows.

And yet, a traitorous part of me wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that there was still some shred of humanity left in Algerone Caisse-Etremont, buried beneath the layers of cold calculation and ruthless ambition. That maybe he did care for Xion in his own twisted way.

I exhaled slowly, my breath fogging the chilled air inside the SUV. “All right,” I said finally, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. “I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, for now. But I need more time with Xion. The new meds I've prescribed should help stabilize him, make him more... amenable to a transfer of care.”

“Of course,” Algerone purred, his tone dripping with false sincerity. “I defer to your expertise in these matters, Shepherd. You are, after all, the esteemed psychiatrist. Take the time you need. But do keep in mind that my patience, while vast, is not infinite.”

The underlying threat in his words was clear as cut glass. I had bought myself a reprieve, but it was temporary at best.

“And once the transfer is complete…Your offer to help me free Dani from the cult is still good?” I tried not to sound desperate, but it was difficult. Algerone’s people were my only viable hope of ever seeing her again.

“I am a man of my word,” he confirmed. “Once Xion is safely in my care, you will have the full might of my resources at your disposal to rescue your dear sister. You can count on that.”

I closed my eyes, equal parts relieved and repulsed by the bargain I was striking with this devil. “Understood. I'll be in touch.”

With that, I hung up, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat and I pulled out of the junkyard with a hope and a plan.