With his uninjured arm, he fumbled for his phone, and the lump in his throat hardened until he couldn’t even swallow. His fingers kept slipping over the keyboard, the pain making it hard to focus.Wrong password. Try again. Wrong password. Try again.He hissed under his breath. His father was walking away already, holding Luke’s hand, talking about trying the new curly fries.Wrong password. Five attempts left.And then the terrifying words circled his mind like a threat:hospital, rabies, stitches.He didn’t want to think about any of that right now. He just wanted to go home.
He did, eventually, after the lonely visit to the hospital, where everything smelled like rubbing alcohol and sickness and stale final breaths. “Where are your parents?”the nurse had asked him while she stitched him up, and he lied about his father traveling for work. Even at a time like this, he rushed to his father’s defense.
“Almost done,”the nurse told him. He couldn’t stop staring at the needle threading through his flesh, couldn’t stop thinking about how fragile humans really were.
It was almost midnight when he staggered down the corridor, his arm throbbing. He passed by Luke’s bedroom—the biggest en suite, with a wrap-around balcony, the walls covered with science and car posters. The kind of bedroom he would’ve dreamed of having as a kid, but he’d been forced to squeeze himself into a tiny cot back at his grandparents’ house, which creaked every time he moved.
Luke was still awake. He was sitting comfortably on the couch, licking a boba ice-cream bar Ares bet he’d stolen from the fridge when their father wasn’t looking. Not that his father could bear to get mad at Luke for it, even if he found out.
And Ares felt an ugly emotion rising, rising up in him.
Luke lifted his head and spotted him in the doorway. Blinked those innocent eyes at him. “Gege. You’re back—is your arm okay?”
“Yes, it is,” Ares said stiffly. He waited for that resentful, self-pitying feeling to go away, but the longer he staredat Luke—perfect, adored, sheltered, angelic Luke, his half-brother—the stronger it grew, until it was impossible to ignore. He hadn’t meant to think the words, let alone say them, but suddenly they were stumbling out of his lips. “You know, it’s funny. Our father really doesn’t give a shit about me.”
Luke stopped licking the ice cream. His eyes widened. “Yes, he does,” he said, which was somehow more enraging than if he’d simply agreed.
“No,” Ares snapped. “He doesn’t. He only cares about you—”
“That’s not true,” Luke said. “He loves us equally. All fathers love their sons equally, that’s what my friend said—”
“Not our father.”
Luke’s nose scrunched up in confusion. “But—”
“Jesus, can you just leave me alone for once?”
Shock flashed across Luke’s face, as if Ares had suddenly reached out and struck him.
Ares made himself leave before he could say anything else. He continued on his way to his bedroom at the very end of the corridor, already regretting the conversation. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Luke was still a child, it wasn’t his fault.Tomorrow,he thought, once he had the energy and his arm wasn’t hurting so terribly. Tomorrow, he’d apologize to Luke and tell him he hadn’t meant it. He’d make blueberry pancakes and draw a smiley face in maple syrup the way Luke liked it, as compensation, and he’d take Luke to the arcade to play Street Fighter, and things between them would be okay.
But the next morning, Luke was gone.
17
Chanel
I squint down into the bluish glow of my phone screen, scanning the address Henry had sent me earlier in the afternoon, even though I’ve committed it to memory already.
Then I glance up, checking the street signs in the unsettling darkness. It’s quiet except for the sound of my own ballet flats, chosen for discretion over fashion. Wherever this place is, it’s so isolated that there aren’t even any lights to illuminate the way. Nobody else around to rescue me or even witness it if I were attacked and screamed for help—
I try to shake the thought away, even as the back of my neck prickles with foreboding, the night air uncomfortably cold against my skin.
Be careful,Henry had texted.Don’t do anything impulsive.
got it lol, stop worrying so much,I’d replied.it’ll age u
Nothing impulsive. Because this isn’t an impulsive decision—it’s a necessary one. To save my mom, to find out what Long Ge’s deal is.
I stop outside a rusted door, marked faintly with what looks like graffiti spray. The symbol of a dragon. Another glance at the address. Then I draw in a deep breath and push the door open.
The first thing I hear is the clatter of mahjong tiles, mixed with voices from below. I move as lightly as I can, my flats padding down the stone steps, noticing as I do that they’re stained with something dark red, something that resembles blood. A chill shudders through me, but I don’t turn back around.
The next set of doors open up to a fight ring.
For a moment, all I can do is stare. There’s a crowd already gathered in the cavernous, dimly lit room, the same kind of crowd you might find lurking around populated tourist areas, waiting to pick pockets and scam you for everything you have.
Then I spot the boy stepping into the ring, and my heart freezes in my chest.
