4. Micah

Ientered the crypt surrounded by skeletons, entrenched within the tombs of the dead. They'll keep our secrets buried amongst their graves.

Our prisoner's naked body sagged from his elevated wrists, bare and blistered from the rusted chains. The Ludus Maximus tattoo proudly gleamed on his chest, mocking me with its reflection from the cheap lamps sporadically spaced on the cold stone floor.

Emerson stood in the centre, saturated in blood, a pair of pliers clutched in her delicate hand. She turned at my arrival, hawk eyes zeroing in on my injured face. "What the hell happened?"

I waved her off, not wanting to stain my suit. Blood was a bitch to wash out. "A slight hiccup."

"I hope he came away worse than you?"

A flash of reminiscence blinked before my eyes: the exact moment I was pinned against the wall. Everything careened downhill from there.

I initially removed my coat to gain a thorough reading of his aura (outside of my siblings, my ability made close proximity uncomfortable, and physical contact virtually abhorrent).

Frighteningly, Psycho's touch wreaked havoc on my Variant in ways I'd never experienced.

Seeing his vivid blood stain my blade, tracking down his tattooed, pulsing neck…the call was inevitable, the demand so primal I couldn't resist a taste—even if I was fully aware of the decision.

In spite of my foolishness, I didn't regret the act, his dumbfounded shock enough to override my reservations. Involuntarily, my mouth lifted into a smirk at the memory.

Emerson groaned. "Forget it. I don't want to know." Turning back to her test subject, she continued her questioning. "Titus, tell us everything you know about Amp and the Ludus' role in its distribution."

With a cocky reply, he spat at her feet. I snickered. Despite his mangled flesh and marred frame, Titus had some massive balls—literally and figuratively. Yuck.

Due to his insolence, Emerson's last remaining thread of restraint irrevocably snapped.

I shook my head at his idiocy as she rose to the challenge. He soon released a sharp grunt, before another tooth was wrenched from his witty mouth, the chains groaning from the added weight of his limp form. A thick layer of drying blood was all that remained from the gaping holes that were now his toothless gums.

Titus was no innocent, and certainly not someone that would be mourned. For all the people he had betrayed and hurt throughout his lifetime, this was a mere pittance.

There is no escape. Not for him. Nor for us.

I circled the room, cutting directly behind him, and spared Emerson a quick nod for the finale. A sly smirk pulled from her lips before she opened the iron door at her back. It jolted with an audible wheeze to display a weeping woman cowering on the floor, her high-pitched whine grating against my heightened senses.

Emerson latched her blood-stained fingers into the woman's brown hair, dragging and depositing her at the feet of her wretched lover.

"No, please," Titus said, words muffled, his false bravado crumbling. "She has nothing to do with the Ludus." My tattoos prickled from the fear permeating his voice, infused in his very breath. This was the first time he'd used the word ‘please'. I quite liked the sound coming out of his mutilated mouth.

"If you don't provide any valuable information, she will be punished."

"Leave her be," Titus hung his head in defeat. "Maximus told no one about the drug trade."

"You are a high-ranking official in the Ludus Maximus, and one of his closest confidants."

"That means fucking nothing! I may have been a close friend in the past, but he's become senile in his old age."

Emerson strolled to the table of assorted torture weapons and scanned a loose hand over the display. "That isn't good enough." Her voice was so sweet, it was almost sickly.

"I swear. He doesn't trust me—or anyone—anymore. Not after Psycho." Titus hesitated, his gaze resting on the blatant view of his woman gagged and chained. A stark reminder of his vulnerability if he didn't keep talking. "Psycho. The champion of the Caverns, and undefeated gladiator of the arena. Kid climbed the ranks fast and was the shining glory of the Ludus. Maximus treated him like a long-lost son. Until ten months ago, when he was sentenced to life at Oakview Asylum."

"Why?" I whispered onto the nape of his neck, sending tremors over his scarred skin.

"No one knows. One day he was an integral part of the Ludus, the next he was locked up in high-security. Maximus has been paranoid ever since." His gaze bounced between my sister and I, awaiting judgement. "That's all I have. There is no one besides Maximus himself who can give you what you want." He knew full well we couldn't reach him ourselves.

Emerson narrowed her eyes in concentration, monitoring his pulse for any falsehood. Her features cleared, resolute and hard, before giving the iron door a sharp rap with her fist.

Titus tracked the opening and Emerson leant against the torture table.

A broad shadow fell over the room when Tanner shouldered through the archway, his smoky brown eyes quickly assessing the scenario before him. He was tall, Emerson reaching his mid-chest, dark skin and brown wavy hair distinguished against her pale complexion and blonde locks.

Tanner's usually-casual persona was nowhere to be seen, instead leaving a haunting presence in his wake, poetically accompanied by the blank void where our Variants went to wallow and disappear.

Titus could sense it too. He didn't quite understand, though his face paled and panic lit the depths of his orbs as he tracked Tanner, who stalked closer.

"I cooperated! You said you'd let her go."

Tanner stood behind the woman's kneeled form and wrenched her head back with a rough hand. Her blue eyes bled into her lover's face with desperation, silently begging for his protection.

Too late.

Titus fell speechless as her mask transitioned before us. Mousy brown locks converted into copper red strands, and blue irises sharpened into vibrant, forest green. A serpentine smile slid over her lips as she slapped Tanner's hand loose and stood upright, rolling her shoulders back in a stretch.

"Bastard," she whined. "You didn't have to pull my hair so hard."

As she massaged her scalp, Tanner winked in return. "I only wanted to play my part. You were playing yours so well."

"Beth?" Titus asked Spencer, in a last-ditch effort to appeal to his transitioned lover-turned-stranger.

Spencer returned his call with a wide, malevolent grin, her white canines shining like she was ready to feast on his flesh (which, in all honesty, wouldn't be far from the truth).

Titus paled further, realising his protection was unwarranted and entirely unnecessary. "I can help! I can help!"

Spencer tilted her head as a flash of silver glimmered between her fingers. "We don't need your help." Her hand darted forward, the knife sinking into his flesh, form steady and sure as she flayed the prized Ludus tattoo from his skin.

The last remaining dregs of Titus' screams echoed through the endless catacombs. His dying lament welcomed our return, initiating the beginning of our long-awaited revenge.

Spencer cleaned her knife with a spare rag. "What a waste of time."

I sighed, eyeing the stray red droplet that landed on my expensive jacket. "I wouldn't say that. I took your advice and planted my staff card on Psycho. So if he wants to leave, now is the opportunity."

"You think he'll take the bait?" Tanner asked.

"If he does, then he will lead us straight to Maximus. If he remains, then they have leverage on him. Why else would he stay in a place like that?"

We all sataround the kitchen island, a full roast and condiments dominating the bench. We'd cleaned and cooked, now ready to eat together as a family.

Tanner honed into his food, Emerson sipped on a glass of whiskey and Spencer balanced back on two legs of her stool, blowing a bubble of her favourite pink gum, the casual action in disparity with her extravagant black gown.

Spencer's gaze roamed over my healed injuries. "Ah, that's better. I wouldn't have been able to stomach my meal if I had to stare at your battered face the whole time."

I rolled my eyes and tipped my chin at her getup. "Where are you off to tonight?"

"Do you like it? Looks much better on me than the mannequin in the window. These are real gems stitched into the fabric."

Emerson chuckled. "Did you take it straight off the dummy, or pay this time?"

"The mannequin looked about my size. Plus, the shop assistant was rude. Serves her right." Spencer poked out her tongue. "I wouldn't worry, she'll be searching for a long-haired blonde with striking blue eyes, wearing an oversized leather jacket riding a motorbike."

Emerson's chuckle cut short, those same blue eyes now narrowed on the redhead. "You better be joking, Spence. I'm at Hangman's Clinic tomorrow. I don't want to worry about cops breathing down my ass."

"Oh, hush Meek. Believe it or not, I don't actually want to look like you." Spencer's gaze then flicked to me. "You either."

My head fell back and a laugh escaped my throat. Emerson smiled into her glass.

Tanner ignored our bickering, continuing with his meal. We were grateful to have him back after the long week, his guidance and support a significant part of our family dynamic.

"How's your father?" I asked.

He finished his mouthful and chased the food down with Emerson's whiskey. "He's having difficulties with the new recruits. They're not as resilient as they used to be." His smoky brown eyes lit with amusement as they bounced between us.

Emerson refilled his glass. "To compare is unfair. We had prior training…and we were more than motivated after Chase."

Spencer sniggered. "Speak for yourself. I was the best, and Uncle is just now realising."

"Best at what?" I baited. "Meek beat you for the assessment in combat, and I beat you in weapons."

Spencer's cheeks blazed red, her fingers twitching around her knife. "No one can school me on infiltration and undercover jobs."

"It's kind of forfeit when your Variant lets you change appearance, Spence. Of course you're not going to get caught," Emerson droned sarcastically.

And that's all she needed.

Spencer bolted from her chair straight over the cluttered bench, dishes and food flying in all directions.

Tanner wrapped a muscular arm around her waist as his other hand continued to shovel food into his mouth. I shook my head and continued my meal.

"It doesn't matter. I beat you in everything," he said, wrestling Spencer back into her seat. "All of you rely too heavily on your Variants. Apparently, I need to humble the three of you."

I groaned in unison with my sisters at his usual speech. Spencer finally gave up the struggle, not a hair out of place, her make up as immaculate as when I first walked in. If I hadn't seen her turn savage right in front of me, I never would have believed she was capable of it.

"Try to heal without your Variant now, Miss Righteous," Spencer said, grinning at the small scratch under Emerson's chin, who didn't escape completely unscathed.

Emerson double-checked the time. "I have to go, or I'll be late for the race. Update me tomorrow?" she asked Tanner. He spared a nod and she pressed a quick kiss to his hair. "Happy to have you back, bro. Someone has to control this demon."

We all chuckled except the demon herself, who narrowed her penetrating green eyes.

Emerson shrugged an oversized leather jacket over her biker gear, flipped her golden hair into a high ponytail and evaded Spencer's swipe as she danced around the scattered mess over the floor.

Spencer pushed back. "I better get going as well."

"Uh-uh, demon lady," I said. "Get your ass back here and clean this shit up."

"And ruin my dress?" she asked, pinching at her gemmed gown.

Emerson giggled from the door. "Should have thought about that before you went all savage. I cooked the damn thing, the least you could do is eat properly."

Spencer pinned a loose potato at her head, Emerson conveniently slipping through the exit at the last second.

We all watched the buttered potato slide down the wall in slow motion as a blonde head popped back through the door. "Yeah, clean that shit up."

"Meeeeek!" Spencer shrieked.

Warmth radiated through my chest and a genuine smile curved my face. My gaze caught on Tanner's, his signature side smile plastering firm, a dimple impressed into his stubbled cheek.

"Welcome home, Tan."

"Good to be home, M."