“No,” Emory whispered.
With his heart in his stomach, he spun around to keep up. Images of Amelia flashed in his mind—her smile, her touch, the other ways he might’ve kept her safe without going so far.I can’t do this.
“You never take me at my word. What did I promise you?”
Another taunt, Emory couldn’t keep up. Winded and dizzy, though they had only just begun, his breaths came ragged.
“Stop,” he commanded but lost his nerve as he fired a shot. It buried in the wall somewhere behind him.Make it count.
As ever, Ivan remained one step ahead. “Piece by piece, limb by limb, I tore her apart, just like you knew I would. You set ‘em up. I knock ‘em down.” Ivan shuffled to a stop and spoke again. “Another life we destroyed together. I wanted to be close to you. Deep inside, you wanted it too.”
Emory inched forward until the tips of his boots met another pair of feet. In the darkness, he stood face-to-face with his brother.
“You’re lying,” he said hoarsely and licked the sweat from his upper lip. “Tell me where she is. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Yes.”
Ivan hovered close to Emory. The noises beyond the door dampened, and silence grew as thick as the darkness until Ivan spoke again.
“I want you,” he whispered, “because your soul is wrecked, just like mine. You and I are kindred in that way. You bury your instincts, but it keeps you up at night, never knowing when you’lllose control. You took your little blood oath, but when you’re burning up for all the wrong you’ve done, you know who you’re bound in blood with. It’s not them, Emory. It’s me. Bloodlines will always trump blood oaths.”
Don’t let him in,self-preservation warned, but it was too late. The reckoning had begun; sins weighed and evil doled out. Emory backed away, groping in the dark for something to hold on to and guide him out of there. His chest constricted, each inhale more labored than the last, and he faintly registered the wetness of tears on his cheeks.
A click ushered in the light and Emory squinted against a single bulb swinging from the ceiling. He studied his brother’s face up close for the first time in years. He’d committed it to memory, searched for it around every corner in waking life and in nightmares too.
Only then, Emory barely recognized it. Hollow cheeks and sharp bones protruding from thin skin gave a skeletal effect, but the black of his good eye was the worst of it. With placid lunacy, it housed the knowledge of his wicked deeds but none of the burden or anguish.
“You look like our father,” Ivan said and contemplated the tears on Emory’s cheeks, “cry like him too.”
Ivan approached, his hand lifted in a mockery of tenderness. Muscles tensing, Emory flinched when Ivan’s palm met his cheek and collected the tears there.
“On his dying breath, he begged for my help. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to leave you and Mirabelle alone with me. So, he cried and he begged. They always do.”
A ghastly smile unfolded on Ivan’s thin lips. Forgotten pain burned in Emory. He’d always believed his father died alone. That would’ve been a kindness.
“You left him to die?” Emory asked, incredulous, as he steadied himself against the wall.
Ivan stood several inches shorter than him and was noticeably much thinner than Emory remembered. Why then did he seem so larger than life and impossible to defeat?
“No. I watched then left. Later, I came for you, but you’d packed up our sister and sought sanctuary in false brotherhood. It can’t protect you or her forever. You know that.”
Ivan circled to Emory’s side and forced him to retreat from the wall. Emory lifted his gun that wavered in trembling hands.
“Where is Amelia?” he demanded tremulously.
“She was the wrong kind, but I made do,” Ivan said and leaned in close, his lips brushing Emory’s cheek. “My God, she was sweet.”
A familiar scent wafted from Ivan’s shirt. Something floral. Something sugary.Ice cream in a rose garden. It shattered the spell.
In a savage eruption, Emory launched himself at Ivan and slammed hard into his bony frame. Together, they collided to the floor. Emory’s shoulder padded the fall but screamed with a sharp, splintering pain. A struggle ensued of thrown elbows, knees, and fists, but neither gained anything as strength met strength in an entanglement of limbs until Ivan flipped on top of Emory.
Emory adjusted the gun in his sweat-soaked palm. He tried to lift his arm, but Ivan’s fist cracked across his face. The hit stunned. Emory’s eyes watered, and the iron bite of blood filled his mouth with another hit. Arms raised, he shielded himself from the assault, but, with the heels of his hands, Ivan clamped Emory’s temples and squeezed hard until his vision blurred at the edges.
Ivan slammed Emory’s head against the concrete floor, once and then twice. The black vignette tightened as Ivan lifted Emory’s head again. One more smash, and lights out. With his last bit of strength, Emory thrust his hips and thrashed his legs. Blood pooled in his nose, making it hard to breathe until Ivan’s grip slipped.
Emory toppled Ivan and climbed on top. His hands coiled around Ivan’s throat. Rage commanded his grip until he felt bones pop. His teeth gnashed with the satisfaction.More.He squeezed harder with primal instinct coursing through him.Kill or be killed.Do it.
