When I said nothing, crimson flushed up Oscar’s pale cheeks. The sun’s loss was evident in the lack of color, which contrasted sharply with his black hair.
“What the fuck was that anyway? You swore to me you weren’t going to take advantage of her while on the Wraith. That the past was done,” he said.
My fists clenched, and through my dehydrated, murky mind, a rush of anger gained leverage. We survived each other’s company for months, but every day Oscar was testing the lines I carefully carved into the stone separating us.
Down the hall, someone let out what could only be described as a maniacal cackle — a woman’s voice. It was quickly followed by a man screaming at her to be quiet, though he chose more colorful words. This place was a special kind of hell.
Rose.
No, if it weren’t against the rules, I would have told Oscar that I fucking tried. That we both knew I wasn’t a good man, and Rose was my opium. Trying to withstand her was like standing against a tsunami — pointless and devastating. If it weren’t against the rules, I might have told him that after she let me kiss her in the storage room before Val caught us, I spent weeks on the floor of Billy’s room trying to curb the instinct to be with her.
Every night, Billy would tell me I was an idiot and that if Rose was choosing it, then it wasn’t wrong. That love was never wrong. I would bite back that obsession wasn’t love, and he would shake his head and tell me that Rose would teach me a thing or two before I reached the end of my road.
Part of me hated he was wrong. The dark part of me was glad he didn’t live to see just how wrong he was. All his hope that Rose would be the reason I found salvation outside of my own need for vengeance went up in flames the moment my bullet lodged in his forehead. I missed the fuck out of him, but it wasbetter this way. This would have hurt worse than the wraith’s bite.
“Are you even listening to me?” Oscar said, stopping in front of my cot.
“No,” I answered.
Inu was taking far longer than I anticipated. I half expected her to sprout on the Bane within a week or two and bring Oscar back to the Wraith. That she hadn’t was concerning. None of the possibilities that formed in my mind were ideal.
“You are such an asshole,” Oscar said.
He was looking for a fight today. Something to drown out the sounds of the rats and the screams. I probably owed him a good fight. After all, it was my fault he was locked in here. James Allan would never have noticed him aboard the Wraith with his head down if I hadn’t provoked him by saying Rose preferred death to his touch. Some stupid, jealous part of me couldn’t let him go without knowing how much Rose hated him.
Oscar stopping him from shooting me was the only reason we were both here. I really was an asshole.
Fine.
If a fight was what he needed, I would give it to him. I owed him that much.
Though a one-armed and malnourished man was likely not the fight he needed. At least the arm had healed well under Edmond’s healer’s attention. There was no chance he would allow me to die of infection rather than see his glory from the gallows.
My bones ached as I began to push myself off the cot, a spark rising in Oscar’s brown eyes. Like a fucking eighty-year-old man, the way my body protested the movement. Maybe one punch from Oscar and I’d be out for a day or two.
By the time I stood, Oscar’s fists were clenched, and he was holding them up to his face. A small snort broke from me as Irealized he punched just like his sister. Though, to be fair, she had broken my nose.
The clacking of boots echoed down the hall, and we both stilled. That was a rarity. After all, Oscar and I were at the end of the building, tucked away from prying eyes. Edmonds wasn’t willing to risk Oscar being recognized before he decided what to do with him. There was at least an hour before whatever excuse they called dinner, which meant this was something different.
My heart picked up, wondering if this was finally it. If Edmonds was bringing me to trial for my crimes. A trial where I would reveal my true name and watch my father’s legacy burn around me. It would be lying to say I wasn’t disappointed he hadn’t shown up to bargain yet. To attempt promises to still my tongue. On darker nights, I would confess that I feared it was his hand stilling my trial and execution. That, despite what the name Sebastian Flynn meant, enough coin could purchase a silent sentencing and a midnight tryst with the gallows.
Wouldn’t that just be the final fuck you?
Two pairs of boots sounded, and I leaned against the wall to keep from falling over. I crossed my arms like that could stave off the December cold that hovered over the stone prison. The small three-barred window at the top was an excellent air conductor.
Red and blue uniforms shone against the flea-infested stone. Captain Edmonds stood with his hat perfectly straight and not a speck of dirt on his uniform.
My heart beat harder in my chest as I fought against the rush of my blood, saying: It’s time. It’s finally time.
“Gentlemen,” he greeted.
Oscar merely groaned and threw himself back on his cot and rested his head against the wall.
“I’m bored, Arthur. Do you have a book or something with you? That’s how desperate I am,” Oscar pouted, and I was forced to concede a small kernel of amusement.
“Prison isn’t meant to be entertaining,” Edmonds said.
“You sound like Bash,” Oscar lamented. “I will rescind my wicked ways if you just give me better company. All he does is brood.”
