I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, thinking he’s always had a screw loose in his head.
Now as he holds my stare across the table, I see it for what it was. Us adding weight and muscle to our already tall frames suited his desires for making us his henchmen. I’d never know if he’s the reason we were denied our first time applying to NYU, but there’s no doubt he got the acceptance reversed this time around…now that we’re of use to him.
The knife in his hand resumes its lazy spin, metal flashing in and out of the light as Uncle leans back in his chair. His grin stretches wider, all teeth and condescension.
“Something you’d like to say, Elias?” he goads.
Across from me, I notice Dante’s head shake ever-so-slightly out of my peripheral vision. I was never as close to him as Callum, my distance from my brother giving them an opening to bond without me, despite their five year age gap. Yet I know the guy sitting there must have had a life-altering moment to turnhim into the quiet ‘yes man’ I’ve seen him as in the brief times of our passing in recent years.
A quick smack from Callum hits my leg as I open my mouth to retort. My tongue runs along the front of my teeth and my leg bounces with built-up frustration.
“There’s a lot of things I’d like to say, Terrance,” I settle on, forcing a smile to my lips that I hope comes across as the biggest ‘fuck you’ alongside using his first name.
I hear a soft sigh of relief from Callum at the same moment Dante’s rigid shoulders drop minutely. While they may be happy with my decision to mince my words, it does nothing but build back up my restless desire to fight. I drag my fists from the table and settle them into my lap, drumming my fingers on my knees to occupy myself.
“You boys think you’re clever,” Terrance drawls, huffing out a small laugh before his eyes take on a maniacal glint. The switch-up sends alarms through my head. “But you don’t know half the things I keep from you. You sit there pretending you’re above all this, when in reality you’ve been walking blindfolded through a minefield since the day your mother died.”
My jaw tightens. He mentions her death like it’s a lesson instead of a nightmare we never woke up from.
“You’ve no idea how close you were to ending up just like her tonight. Dead, gutted by the same filth she underestimated.”
The air feels thick with his words, every syllable heavy with venom and smug certainty. I swallow the retort on the tip of my tongue to thank him for his gallant service.
“I’m saving you from your own naïvety,” he continues, voice smooth but sharp as the knife he toys with. “You don’t have to like me, but you’ll thank me when you realize I’m the only thing keeping you alive.”
Callum leans back in his chair, arms folding across his chest, settling in to silently take in whatever rant is building up in our uncle. It irks me, seeing his sudden shift.
What am I missing?
For a moment, the only sound is the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
I can’t fucking take it a second longer.
“Funny,” I muse, slow and deliberate as I pull my shoulders back, “because I’m pretty sure we’d be doing just fine without you. If you’d stop blocking our inheritance our parents left us, maybe we could actually go live our lives instead of wasting them here, where we’re sure to come into contact with beings that actively want to kill us.”
His knife scrapes softly against the table before he turns the handle in his hand with idle ease. Then, without warning, he presses the edge to his palm and drags it across the skin in one slow, deliberate stroke. The cut isn’t deep, but it’s enough to make beads of crimson well up, sliding over the lines of his hand before dripping onto the tablecloth.
I freeze, stomach twisting. What the hell is he doing?
He’s more fucked up in the head than I thought.
Dante doesn’t blink, but I can see his own pulse jackrabbiting alongside mine, from the vein in his neck.
Callum breathes out softly as my uncle sits back in his chair, casual as anything, blood dripping from his closed hand like it’s a parlor trick and not sheer lunacy.
Then he smiles. “If I don’t open your eyes, the world will do it for me. I’ll drag you into the truth, boys, whether you agree to work for me or not.”
He sets the blade down before shouting, “Bring in the new capture!”
My gut knots. The words are too casual, too rehearsed, and the hairs along the back of my neck lift.
The double doors at the far end of the dining hall swing open. Heavy boots echo against the tile as two guards stride inside, each gripping a limp figure between them.
At first, all I see is skin–raw, blistered, and ruined. What little remaining fabric they’re wearing clings in blackened tatters, seared through by something that makes my throat close in horror at the mere thought. She’s barefoot, her feet dragging uselessly across the floor, leaving a faint blood smear in their wake.
My chair screeches back before I realize I’m moving. “What the fuck–”
Callum is already halfway out of his seat too, every line of him sharp with awakened fury.
