Brooker pulled down the collar of his shirt to show a thick scar at the base of his neck as he continued to move toward the platform. “I’m gonna have to repay you for this one day. Hurt like a bitch.”
They reached the base and Brooker forced Callum to ascend the steps ahead of him, the gun never wavering from his head. Up close, Greyson could see the changes in his brother—the harder set of his jaw, the coldness in his eyes that had never been there before. Or perhaps it had, and Greyson had simply been too blind to see it.
Lira reached for Callum, and he moved to run to her, but Brooker pulled him back quickly, pushing him to his knees and pressing the gun to his temple.
Lira gasped, tears streaming down her face now. “Please don’t. Brooker,pleasedon’t hurt him.”
“You’ve been alive this whole time,” Greyson said, the words tasting like poison in his mouth as he met Callum’s eyes.
He had never seen fear there. But now, it was exploding in his irises. His eyes flickered to Lira then back to him. Then again.
“Very much so,” Brooker confirmed. “Dad and I came up with the plan years ago to plant me in the rings. We took a gamble with my life by buying that contract, but I was willing to die for the Heart.” His smile didn’t falter as he glanced to Shadera. “And I almost did thanks to that bitch. Thankfully, she was a little too drunk that night to realize she left me breathing.”
Dad.
Greyson forced the sickness back. His mind reeled, struggling to process the betrayal unfolding before him. His brother—the man he’d idolized, mourned, tried to emulate—had been working against them all along.
“The contract was the only way to make the rebels truly trust that I was a deserter,” Brooker continued, his tone too close to the sound of his father’s. “That my loyalties were with the rings. It took yearsof planning, of building my cover, of sleeping with Cardinal trash and helping the scum of the rings.” His smile deepened with something like pride. “But it was worth it because it all came to this moment.”
Each word was a knife, slicing through Greyson’s last illusions about his family, his brother, his place in the world. The man before him was a stranger wearing his brother’s face. A monster who had orchestrated suffering and death with the same casual cruelty of their father.
“We learned a lot about Shadera through the grapevine,” Brooker went on, his gaze sliding to her with a coldness that made Greyson’s hair stand on end. “Knew how important she was to Jaeger, to Vine. Knew they would do almost anything to get her back.”
Maximus stepped up beside him, the two of them forming a united front that made his stomach turn. Father and son, power and cunning combined.
“Dad and I had just planned to keep her prisoner after your death, but then you had to go and remove your mask in front of everyone. That’s when Elara suggested the Vow.” Brooker nodded toward their mother standing at the back of the platform, shoulders folded in on herself. “That’s when the real plan formed. Came together brilliantly, if I do say so myself.”
Brooker chuckled, squeezing Callum’s shoulder and shaking him.
“I whispered in Farrow’s ear that the ceremony would be the perfect time to strike,” Brooker continued, “and the information just trickled down. Dad and I didn’t have to do anything, really, but wait and let all the rebel leaders come to us.” He laughed again, the sound haunting. “And they did it so easily.”
Callum made a sound, a snarl, struggling against Brooker’s grip. “You won’t get away with this,” he spat, blood spraying from his split lip. “The people know now. They’ve seen—”
Brooker pressed the gun harder against his temple, cutting him off. “They’ve seen what we wanted them to see. A spectacle. A distraction.While we took care of the real threat.” His smile was razor sharp now. “And without leaders to oppose us, the rings will be easy to eliminate for a greater purpose.”
“A greater purpose?” Greyson echoed, unable to keep the disgust from his voice. “Mass murder is your greater purpose?”
“Progress,” Maximus interjected, his tone reasonable, almost paternal. “The expansion of the Heart. The preservation of civilization in a world still recovering from its collapse.”
“You really are the devil,” Greyson whispered, but Brooker just laughed.
“You were always the weaker brother,” he said, shaking his head. “So emotional. It makes sense you would have a different father. Something so weak couldn’t come from Maximus.”
The words hit Greyson with astonishing force, driving the air from his lungs.
Different father?
He saw his mother straighten. Saw Mikel’s hand tighten on his gun.
“What is he talking about?” Greyson demanded, looking from face to face, searching for answers in their expressions as he raised his gun a little higher.
Maximus stepped closer to him, one hand coming to rest on his arm with false affection as Greyson’s gun pressed against his chest.
“That’s right,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your mother is a whore, spread her legs for Mikel, and weakness is the only thing that came out of it.”
The world stopped. Expanded. Contracted. Greyson felt as if he were standing outside himself, watching the scene unfold from a distance. Mikel. His father. Not Maximus. The revelation should have been earth-shattering, should have rewritten everything he knew about himself.
Instead, it felt like confirmation of something he’d always sensed—the wrongness of his place in the Serel family, the disconnect between himself and the man he’d called father.
