Chapter Twenty-Eight

God, what a disaster.

A local cop came onto the Expanse. It hasn’t happened in a while. We have a sort of unspoken agreement with these hicks. They acknowledged years ago that what’s best for them is to steer clear. Leave us to do our own thing out here, and now and then we’ll make it worth their while.

Money talks in the outside world. I’m no stranger to it, and neither is Darian. Just because we don’t let money rule our lives anymore, doesn’t mean we won’t watch Outsiders fumble for it. If we must.

The growth of the trumpets, the synthesizing of our psychedelics—not including Empyrean of course—is like a DMT of sorts. We trade with a syndicate outside of Boulder, usually for vehicles or supplies, and on the rare occasion, for a delivery of cash to our local PD. Again, we don’t touch the money here, but it’s something that happens every now and again to shut them up.

If they get greedy, they come up here. And we handle it.

That’s what just happened. That’s what called me away from my office while I was in the middle of… whatever that was, with the girl.

The guy is in the cell right now. Xander captured him. The rule is always to take hostages, shoot to wound and all that.

Leave the trespassers for me to deal with.

That’s the part Darian hates. But I can’t worry about that right now. He has Abdiel back, so maybe…

I shake my head. I don’t even know what I’m thinking. My heart has been aching more than usual lately. I wish I couldn’t feel it, but I can. That’s the part I don’t understand.

If I’m made to be the evil to Darian’s good, then why does it hurt so much?

If I couldn’t feel it, I’d be fine, but I do, and it’s a pain unlike anything else. Sometimes, it reminds me I’m alive. Other times, it makes me want to die.

I should let Darian know what happened, but I have to tend to the girl first.

I come back to my office, opening the door slowly. But when I peer inside, she’s gone.

Squinting, I look around. Nothing is out of place, so I shrug it off. She probably got bored and left, to go find Abdiel or something.

The girl is a new piece of the puzzle. After what she said to me earlier, what I heard in her mind… There was an anguish there, one very familiar.

Sighing, I decide to go handle my business. I need to deal with the prisoner.

Leaving the lab, I get on my ATV and drive up the mountain toward the shack. It’s not a long drive, but my brain is scattered the whole time. When I get there, I push on the door and wander inside slowly. I lean up against the wall, exhausted mentally. And just knowing I have to go up there… To endure it.

It takes so much out of me. I wish it didn’t, but it does.

I carry the burden of who I am on my shoulders, like the weight of a thousand secrets and lies. They’re as heavy as boulders.

Thinking about the girl, my eyes close. She was afraid, vulnerable. Damaged inside, and the way she was thinking about it… this is something I recognize all too well.

Her need to reclaim control… To take her life back… It reminds me of someone.

My eyes fling open, sweat trickling down my temple.

Peeking at the clock on my bedside table, I see that it’s two in the morning. And when my gaze darts across the room, I find an empty bed.

Swallowing becomes impossible. I have so much saliva, yet I can’t gulp it down. My throat is thick and dry, closing up until I almost can’t breathe.

I rub my eyes and jump out of bed, walking as slowly as I can when all I want to do is run. But I need to keep quiet. Kara’s not home, working the overnight shift. But he’s here…

Passing his bedroom, I hold my ear up to the door. I hear snoring. But then I hear a different sound, in the room next door. The shower is running in the bathroom.

My hand trembles as I reach for the knob, not bothering to knock. I twist it and open the door, peeking through the crack.

“Dar?” I mutter. “You in here?”

He doesn’t respond, but I hear muffled cries.

Fuck… No.

Pushing my way into the bathroom, I dart up to the shower. Darian’s in there… on the floor. The water is rushing over him where he sits, propped against the wall. His shoulders are slumped forward, shaking with his ragged sobs.

My eyes have never been so wide at the sight of my brother, my best friend… my only friend… broken. There are bruises all over his torso, the shapes of fingertips and hands. And there’s a pinkish hue to some of the water circling the drain.

The pain in my chest is full and thick, an ache unlike anything I’ve ever felt. And it quickly warps, twists and rolls into an unbridled rage. A monstrous fury so vibrant I can barely see straight.

My vision blurs for a moment while every muscle in my body constricts in pure wrath.

I’m going to kill him.

The decision is made in that moment. No debating, no contemplating. It’s been written by the universe.

But first thing’s first, I need to help my brother.

“Darian.” I stumble to him, falling onto my knees by the edge of the tub, reaching in, not giving a fuck that I’m getting soaked by the spray of the shower.

I grab his chin and tug him to look over his face. There’s blood trickling from his nose, too. My jaw sets, my teeth damn near grinding to dust.

Darian is crying hysterically, though still keeping quiet as he does. Of course, we have to be quiet… so as not to anger the evil.

But it doesn’t matter. No more tiptoeing or pretending it’ll get better. I should’ve fucking stopped this weeks ago, the first time I saw the bruises. The first time I heard him come in after everyone was asleep. Every time Kara works her overnight shifts…

I cringe as my heart shatters in my chest. I could’ve stopped it. I should have…

I know in this moment I’ll carry this guilt for the rest of my life. But it stops tonight.

This ends now.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” I mumble, and he doesn’t respond. Sitting like a broken doll on the floor of the shower, my brother crumbles before my eyes.

My six-foot, one-hundred-and-eighty-pound wide receiver foster brother, reduced to a blubbering mess. He’s so strong, but in this moment, he’s gone.

No. No, I won’t let this happen to him. I can’t.

He’s all I have. I won’t let that asshole take him.

Seething inside, I manage to forgo my rage long enough to focus on getting Darian out of the shower. Turning off the water, I grab a towel, wrapping it around him and helping him stand. His legs shake as he moves in slow motion, out of the shower, teeth chattering in between his sniffles.

He’s still crying, though no sounds are coming out. He’s just sort of shivering, and it’s the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever witnessed. My face is tight and burning, pressure building up behind my eyes as I dry him off carefully.

“Where does it hurt?” I ask, minding his bruises. I check his nose, and it doesn’t feel broken.

“Everywhere…” he mumbles.

My stomach twists in misery, but I don’t show it to him. I stay strong for him, keeping the worry off my face while I wipe the blood from his nose and lips.

“Can you walk, Dar?” I keep the towel wrapped around him, noticing that he doesn’t have any clothes in the bathroom.

Meaning he didn’t have any when he came in here.

My jaw is numb from straining so hard, fist clenching over and over to stop myself from running in there right now. I have to take care of my brother first. He needs me.

“It… hurts, but yea,” he croaks.

Draping his arm around my shoulder, I slink my arm around his waist to help him walk better while we leave the bathroom quietly, Darian wincing as he goes. When we pass the asshole’s bedroom, he starts to quake. His pace picks up, and now he’s dragging me up the hall, yanking me into our bedroom fast.

He’s out of breath once we’re inside, and I close the door wishing like hell it had a lock. Now I understand why we aren’t allowed one, even though we’re fucking fifteen.

“You’re okay.” I’m fighting like hell to hold on to my strength. For him. “I have you.”

He shudders and covers his face with his hands, the towel trying to fall off his naked body. Rushing to his dresser, I grab some boxers and bring them back to him. He pulls them on, steeling his arms around himself.

“You want some sweats?” I ask. Darian usually sleeps in only his boxers, but maybe right now he wants more clothes.

He shakes his head slowly, the cries picking back up again. “What… why… I don’t get it…”

Biting the inside of my cheek to keep my own tears at bay, I lunge and hug onto him tight. He latches himself to me and just sobs into my neck.

“It’s not your fault, Darian,” I tell him. “I’m going to take care of this, okay? I’ll fix it.”

“You can’t,” he whimpers. “I’m fucking stuck here… with him. And it is my fault.”

My head shakes over and over, but I can’t find any words. This hurt of his, I feel it like it’s my own.

How is it possible to feel someone else’s pain? Is empathy really that strong? Can it be?

Or is it because we’re connected, Darian and me?

“Come on.” I tug him over to my bed. “You need to rest.”

He walks with me, pausing for a moment. “I can sleep in your bed?”

I nod. “Of course.”

“You won’t leave me, right?” He shivers as he crawls in, nestling up beneath my comforter.

“Never.” I climb in next to him, trying to keep some distance, though he snuggles up to me immediately, resting his damp hair on my torso. “Remember what I promised?”

His head moves with his nod, a sleepy sigh creeping from his lips before he murmurs, “You’ll never leave me. And you’ll always be mine…”

My head tilts as I look down at him where he’s curled up on me, already falling, sleep muffling his cries.

I know he meant to say I’ll always be his brother, which is what I promised him a few months ago. Well, I promised it out loud, to him. But I’d promised myself that same thing years earlier, when he first came into my life. When he first became my brother.

You’ll always be mine.

Something stirs inside me, in my stomach, spreading warmth up to my chest. It’s tight and hot, and it feels strange. Strange but good.

You’ll always be mine.

I watch Darian sleep for a while, almost an hour spent with him twitching and trembling, eyelids fluttering as he dreams. I hope they’re not too bad, the things he’s seeing in his head.

I can only imagine.

It boils my blood once more. And as much as I can’t have him waking up without me, there’s something I need to do. And it needs to be done right now.

Carefully wriggling myself free from Darian’s hold, I slide out of the bed as quietly as possible. Reaching beneath my mattress on the right side, I pull out my knife. A hunting knife I make sure to sharpen often, although I’ve never been hunting…

Until now.

Leaving the room, I saunter up the hall, a peculiar calm settling over me. My adrenaline is jacked, sure, and my pulse is thumping in my neck, but it feels right.

This is what I’m meant to do.

Sneaking into the dark room, silent, my eyes adjust to the lack of light as I observe the lump of shit sleeping soundly in his bed. I look around the room, squinting at what appear to be cut zip ties on the floor next to Darian’s clothes.

Swallowing a painful lump down my throat, I step up to the bed. My head cocks while I watch him, blissfully unaware in his slumber. Just another rat-faced prick with a vicious monster living inside him, like so many others on this miserable planet.

Moving amongst the rest of us like they belong. But they don’t.

They don’t get to live.

I crawl onto the bed carefully, pulling the covers down enough to reveal his body. He’s on his back, eyes still closed, though his features shift as I straddle his hips. My index finger traces an invisible line from his potbelly up to his chest.

“You come back for more, kid…” he mumbles, eyes still closed. “I told you you’d like it.”

My eye twitches as I shift down harder on him, putting pressure as I snap the blade out from my knife, angling it off to the side.

“I knew you’d see my way…” His voice trails when his eyes open and sees it’s me. His brows zip together, but before he can protest, I stick my knife right up to his throat.

“You were saying?” I hiss.

“What are you doing, shrimp? Don’t do anything stupid,” Dan grunts, hands out at his sides while he lies still, knowing his slightest move could help me nick his carotid artery.

“I could ask you the same.” I lean over him. “You wanna die quick… Or slow?”

“Whatever you think you know, it’s all bullshit,” he croaks, shifting, which only prompts me to press farther into his skin, drawing blood. “Fuck! You little prick!”

“You’re a sick piece of shit, Lannister,” I mumble. “I’m gonna take your last breath. Give it to my brother as a gift.”

“He liked it.” He releases a sickening grin that settles in the pit of my stomach like food poisoning. “He consented.”

“Right.” I drag the blade of my knife down his throat and onto his chest, just hard enough to scrape him without actually cutting.

I feel him trembling in fear, his eyes widening as he loses his confidence. The look in them gives me the slightest piece of solace. I would like to give this look to Darian someday. For his revenge… Restitution.

But I’m not sure it could work like that.

“I just want you to know, Dan, that it gives me great pleasure to take your life,” I mutter, poking my blade into his stomach gradually until he groans out loud. I quickly reach onto the floor and grab a sock, stuffing it into his mouth.

His hands fly up in an attempt to remove it, but I pin one of them down in my wrist. He struggles against me, his other arm flying up. I put my knee on it, holding him down while my blade stuffs deeper into his gut, puncturing his flesh.

His eyes widen as blood pours instantly from the wound.

“To wipe you off this earth,” I growl, dragging the blade up, up his stomach, cutting him deep, leisurely and long.

He gurgles, eyes bulging, sweat seeping from his pores while blood gushes out of him, all over me, and the bed.

It’s everywhere, the smell of it thick in the air.

But I’m not done.

“For hurting my brother… My Darian… Tonight you die, Dan.” I jerk the blade even harder, farther up until his breastplate stops me, his muffled wails fading into the background to my pulse.

It’s hard with this knife, since it’s not that long. But it’s sharp as hell, slicing through his skin, tissue, muscle and entrails.

“You die, and he lives.”

I’m out of breath, panting while I gut the motherfucker, slow and precise, to ensure he feels every single second of pain, every inch that will never be enough.

Blood soaks into my clothes, coating my arms and legs. The whole room reeks of copper, the metal in the air so thick you can taste it.

My hand keeps grinding, digging the blade into him as rough as I can.

Dan sputters for only another minute before he gives up and stops breathing.

And I let out a long exhale, peering down at the mess I’ve made. I can see into his body, his ruptured organs visible beneath the vibrant red of blood everywhere.

I close my eyes and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, trying to brush the hair out of my eyes, feeling a smear of blood on my forehead, sticky.

It makes me chuckle.

“Bye, Dan,” I breathe, slithering off him and staggering away from the bed. “Thanks for dying so well.”

Staring down at the scene before me for a moment, I wonder if I should even bother cleaning it. But I shake my head, and step out of my sweats and boxers, both of which are red and completely soaked through.

I go to the bathroom naked and jump in the shower, quickly washing the blood from my body. I wash my knife too, admiring it; the small item in my hand. I used it to kill my foster father.

I took a man’s life. And I don’t really feel bad about it.

If that makes me a sociopath, fine. I’ll live with it. But honestly, it needed to happen.

Dan had to die for what he did to Darian. My brother will never be the same. He’ll carry this for the rest of his life.

Something that permanently damaging… it’s unforgivable.

I get out of the shower and go to our bedroom. But when I see the time on the clock, I become a bit frantic.

We have to go. We have to go now.

I think leaving this place could only be a good thing. There’s been too much pain here. Too much hurt and misery.

We can go somewhere far away and keep breathing. We can live, because that’s why we’re here.

Our purpose.

A sound brings me out of my memory, and I look around.

I gaze out into the forest, the sunlight barricaded out by the trees and all their many branches of full leaves. I see nothing, so I shrug it off and prepare myself for what I need to do.

It does weigh on me, everything I hide from Darian. Over the years, convincing him we could never be together; that the Regnum wouldn’t approve, and that they couldn’t understand.

Darian is smart as hell, but he’s also been weakened by what happened to him. It doesn’t matter if it was a hundred years ago, or ten minutes ago. It still affects him, and the unfortunate fact is that I played on that.

I used his insecurities to convince him we could never be together.

It had to be done.

Unlocking and lifting the trapdoor, I head down the steep steps. I saunter slowly to the cell, occupied by one Officer Hoyt.

He’s pretty young, probably in his late twenties. Built, but not too much. Not as big as Darian.

I toss that thought away and glare at the man where he sits on the floor, holding his tied hands to his head in the spot where Xander hit him. It’s still bleeding. He probably has a concussion. Not that it will matter for much longer.

“You’ll burn for this.” His raspy voice quavers up at me, through the metal bars.

My head pivots right. “Of that I am almost entirely certain, Officer.” I open the cell with my key. “Now, stand up, please. We’ve got some walking to do.”

“No. Where are you taking me?” He stutters, eyes red-rimmed and glistening with a fear he’s so clearly trying to cover up.

“I’m going to set you free.” I give him a pointed look, folding my arms over my chest.

He doesn’t believe me at all, that much is clear from his thoughts and even just the look on his face, but I don’t care. “You are?”

I nod. “Yup. Come now. Let’s go.”

He still doesn’t move, and I’m losing all my patience. Stalking up to him, I grab him by the arm until he’s forced to his feet, yanking him out of the cell. I’m dragging him along while he does the bare minimum of walking, just enough to keep himself from falling. We get to the steps, and I point.

“Go.”

“No.”

“Do it, Officer. My patience is wearing thin.”

He hesitates for another moment before climbing up the steps into the shack, with me right behind him. I catch him looking around, assessing items he could grab as weapons. Contemplating running. I hear him thinking it all, running through his potential for survival.

“You won’t get far,” I tell him. He turns to me, gaze narrowing. I blink.

Brushing past him, I grab his arm again, pulling him along with me.

“Where are we going?” He asks while we walk, following the narrow trail which leads up the mountain. The path that directs to the overlook.

The cliff.

I don’t answer him, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing with his pointless words. “My partner will come looking for me. My Captain. You won’t get away with this.”

“Captain Bellman? I know him.” I smirk, peering at him from the side to witness his face drop.

He doesn’t say anything else after that.

Many more minutes of walking, I finally spot it in the distance. The cliff, settled just beyond the clearing in the trees.

The black rock isn’t there.

Gulping, my fingers begin to tremble. It’s not a relief to me, not seeing it. I know it’ll come, and I know what it wants.

Taking a deep breath, I yank my prisoner into the clearing and shove him to the ground. He rests on his knees, gaping around frantically. His thoughts are wavering, the forces pulling him. And I hear all of it…

I hear it as he goes through every bad thing he’s ever done. My mouth dries while I watch him crumbling, curling into the fetal position as he cries.

“Accept your sins, Officer Hoyt.” I step closer. “This is what it wants.”

He turns until he’s lying on his back, sweat lining his forehead, mixing with the blood in his hair as he gawks up at me. He’s afraid. I see it and hear it. But it’s not me he should fear…

“You’re evil,” he gasps. “And God sent the serpent to destroy Adam. To destroy man.”

I nod. “Yea. Probably.” I pull my knife from my pocket, opening the blade.

“Why are you doing this?” He wails, wetting himself.

“You know why.” I lunge at him, grabbing him by the collar. Kneeling over him, I bring us nose to nose. “Evil atones, too. Human sacrifice, Hoyt. Your greed will cost you your life.” I bring my knife to his throat. “Any last words?”

“I’m… sorry…” he whines, snot dripping down his face.

“Noted.”

And I slice his throat. Blood spurts from the wound, coating my hand.

He tries to breathe, gasping and gurgling, blood spraying from his mouth onto my face.

I close my eyes and wipe them with my hand, shoving his twitching body down into the dirt. “Great. Now I have to go shower.”

Standing up slowly, I swallow as I watch his body, giving up its last breath. Movement catches my peripheral, and my head tilts toward it.

The rock appears, right beside me.

That black rock, shiny and layered, rippling in my vision. I blink heavily at it.

“Are you satisfied?” I hiss as the trees move around me, wind whipping through the branches.

The smell of blood is strong, like that night, all those years ago.

I paid the price that night, for Darian. And I’m still doing it now. For him, for Abdiel, for all those people down there.

I’ll be the evil, for their good.

After all, it’s the balance.

The natural order.

Evil atones.