A pause. When Simon spoke again, his voice was raw with fury.
"But he's the one who made me into one."
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Charlie held perfectly still, afraid that any movement might shatter Simon completely. The hunter's body pressed against his, skin still damp with sweat, but there was nothing soft about the way Simon gripped him now. Those fingers dug into Charlie's waist like Simon was trying to anchor himself to something real while his world crumbled.
"Ten years," Simon said against Charlie's shoulder. His voice came out steady, which was somehow worse than if he'd been screaming. "Ten years I spent taking his pills, following his orders, believing I owed him everything."
Charlie's hand moved to Simon's hair, stroking through the dark strands. The gesture felt inadequate against the magnitude of Simon's pain, but Simon didn't pull away.
"Every vampire I killed, I killed for her. To honor her memory. To make sure no other kid lost their mother like I did." A tremor ran through Simon's body. "But Reuben made me lose mine."
The absolute anger bleeding through their bond made Charlie's chest ache. Not his own emotion, but Simon's—raw and sharpenough to cut. But underneath the rage, Charlie felt something else. Grief so profound it threatened to drown them both.
"Simon..."
"Don't." Simon's grip tightened. "Don't try to make this better. Don't tell me we don't know for sure. Iknow, okay? I just know."
Charlie stayed quiet, just holding him. Letting Simon feel the grief he'd probably never been allowed to process. Fifteen-year-old Simon had been thrown into training, into pain, into becoming someone else's weapon.
Had he ever been allowed to just mourn his mother?
Probably not.
"She used to make terrible pancakes," Simon said suddenly. "Burned them every morning. I'd complain, and she'd laugh and say it built character." His voice cracked. "I haven't thought about that in years."
"Tell me about her."
Simon pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Charlie's face. "Why?"
"Because she deserves to be remembered as more than just your trauma." Charlie's thumb brushed across Simon's cheekbone. "And because you need to remember her as more than that too."
Simon's eyes searched Charlie's face, like he was trying to decide if Charlie meant it. "She worked two jobs," he said finally. "At a diner during the day and at night she was cleaning offices. She was always exhausted but never complained. Said we were a team."
Charlie shifted them carefully, so they were lying side by side, still pressed close but able to see each other properly. Simon's hand stayed on his waist, thumb moving in small, unconscious circles.
"She sang in the shower. Badly. Old rock songs from the eighties." A ghost of a smile touched Simon's lips. "The neighbors complained once, and she baked them apology cookies. But she burned those too."
Charlie laughed. "She sounds wonderful."
"She was tough. Had to be, raising me alone. I was an angry kid even before..." Simon trailed off. "Got into trouble at school arguing with my teachers. She'd show up to the principal's office in her diner uniform, grease stains and all, and somehow make them apologize to her."
Charlie could picture it. A woman with Simon's sharp intelligence and stubborn streak, facing down the world for her son.
"The night she died, she made spaghetti." Simon's voice went distant. "We were watching some terrible action movie. She fell asleep on the couch halfway through, the way she always did. I covered her with a blanket and went to my room to do homework."
Charlie stayed quiet, letting Simon tell it at his own pace.
"I heard the window break. But by the time I got to the living room..." Simon's jaw clenched. "She tried to protect me. Told me to run. Even while she was dying, she was trying to save me."
"She loved you."
"And Reuben used that love to chain me." Simon's hand stilled on Charlie's waist. "He knew exactly how."
Charlie watched Simon's face transform as the years of manipulation became visible in hindsight. The grief was still there, but something else was building beneath it.
