Damon seemed surprised by the question. It smoothed into another smile that sent a shiver through her.
“Does it matter?” he asked. “It could be your parents or that boyfriend of yours or eleven strangers ona bus, you would always come, right? Because that’s what heroes do.”
A creeping cold started to move through Rose.
It was a lie.
Damon had no one.
No one but her.
And she had given herself over willingly.
Damon searched her expression. He nodded as if hearing her realization, but continued with his speech.
“But me? I never liked action movies. Those heroes Derrick loved so much? They were all the same. No matter the planning, the cause, the circumstances, they always found a way to fix everything. To come out on top. But we never saw all the choices that had to be made, all the consequences that had to happen. We never got to see everyone’s problems and worries. Their burdens to bear. We didn’t see the hospital bills, the cost of living, the price of milk.”
He shook his head.
“We saw heroes escaping quicksand and badly trained men with guns. We saw car chases and fights in the subway. Bombs attached to toilets and bodies floating at the bottom of lakes.”
Another shiver went down Rose’s spine.
Damon didn’t catch it.
He did, however, regard her with another pointed stare.
“You know, I think it was fate that they compared you to something Derrick—the man you didn’t save—loved. I just wanted to show the world that you weren’t a hero, after all. Not to Derrick, not to me.”
Damon seemed more tired now than mad. His shoulders sagged a little.
Rose didn’t understand the attitude.
He had her where he wanted, right?
No weapon, no backup. Just herself and good intentions.
“What do you want now, Damon? Why am I here?”
She eyed those cinder blocks.
Damon seemed unperturbed.
“Because the reason I dislike heroes the most is they’re foolish,” he said. “And I’m no fool.”
He lowered his gun just as the sound of footfalls on the wooden dock behind her sounded.
Whoever the newcomer was, he didn’t glance their way.
“Betrayal by someone you love was going to be my masterpiece at the end of all of this,” he said. “But it looks like that’s my scene now.”
Damon threw his gun into the water like he had his phone.
Rose had no idea what was happening but, for some reason, she simply couldn’t look away.
Because Damon Tillman was smiling again.
This time, there was no anger in it. No hate or rage.
