by Keri Lake
Other memories taunt me throughout the day. Swooping down in the scarce moments of content, when I least expect it.
“Any word about Jack?” At the sound of Titus’s inquiry, I turn toward the door, ears perked.
“No. Not yet.”
Jack. My head clings to the name.
Hot blood hammers inside my veins.
My muscles spring from a slumbering laxity and tense beneath my skin.
For the first time in a long time, I feel something stir inside of me.
A purpose.
The door clicks in the other room, and the men’s voices muffle to incoherent sounds, as if they’re standing outside, talking some more. The thoughts of Jack continue to swirl like a pile of windswept leaves inside my head. A rustling noise that begs to be heard, distracting me from the incessant visuals of Remus.
The door clicks shut again. Footsteps. Some clanging about in the kitchen. And minutes later, the scent of broth fills the air, tickling my stomach for the first time in days. The footfalls approach my room, coming to a stop at the door.
Pausing for a moment, he huffs, before stepping inside the room. “I don’t want to force you, Thalia. But I will not stand by while you waste away. You need to eat something.” There’s a ragged drag to his voice, and I hate myself for having brought him to this level of exhaustion.
I turn over and push myself to a sitting position.
His eye flickers with surprise, before he tamps it down with his usual permanent frown.
I let out an exhale through my nose and nod. “Okay. I’ll try.”
It’s strange to see this grown, formidable man lurch toward me, enthusiasm buried behind his stern expression as he dips the spoon into the bowl. Hand steady, he feeds it into my mouth, and I willingly drink.
The savory broth that he must’ve made from the venison meat warms my chest and stomach when I swallow it back, and I let out a slight, involuntary moan.
Brows lifting with relief, he dips the spoon again and fills it up, delivering another mouthful that I eagerly consume. He does it twice more, until I take the spoon myself and eat without his help.
To keep from having to watch how such a simple act on my part lights up his face, I stare down at his forearm that rests atop his thigh, eyeing the long, jagged scar that runs from his elbow to his wrist. Faint and white, it’s one I’ve seen before, but didn’t have the courage to ask about it.
“You’ve cut yourself before?”
Not bothering to look at the scar, he runs his finger along the length of it. “Many years ago.”
“Why?”
The gloom from before returns to his face, and he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
I glance down again, certain now that, whatever it was, at the time it turned him as inside out as I feel right now. “Please tell me?”
Maybe it’s the desperation bleeding through my voice that makes him contemplate the request for a moment, because the Titus I’ve come to know isn’t a man of compromise.
He nods and turns away from me, like he can’t bear to look at me. “I was twelve. Maybe thirteen. When we first took the injections, we were in excruciating pain. Doc Levins gave you those same few injections, while you were knocked out. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to watch you ...” His frown deepens, and he shakes his head. “After the injection, we’d be placed in a dark room, in sensory deprivation, which was meant to settle us. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t see. But I could feel. Beneath the current of pain that ran through my body, I felt the unspeakable things that were done to me.”
He grinds his teeth together, and rubs his hands, but his words are cold and detached. He doesn’t cry when he says them. Not a single tear, when he talks about what happened to him, and I envy his dissolution. I envy his ability to speak so freely, as if it’s someone else who was hurt, instead of him.
I can’t.
Even now, tears gather in my eyes, as I recall sitting in that cell after Remus had his way with me, lying curled up from the pain. As if I lay in that room beside Titus, I can somehow feel and understand his misery. An ache blossoms in my chest at the thought of a boy so young, enduring such a thing.
“It became routine. And I became reluctant to participate in the injections, knowing what always followed, which resulted in punishment. More pain.”
“Who did this to you?” I ask, noticing the shaky tone of my voice.
“One of the guards. As I got older, stronger, he moved on to other boys in the Alpha project.” He taps a finger at his temple and scowls. “Even as my mind and body were being conditioned to fight and endure pain, my head was locked in the memory of that twelve-year-old. So, when I found the guard alone one night, smoking his cigarette, I dragged him to a dark corner and gutted him with my bare hands.”
“You tried to kill yourself as a child?”
“No. That’s the problem. Even after he was gone, I was still locked in those memories.”
“This doesn’t get better, then. It doesn’t go away.”
“It gets easier, but no. It’ll never go away. Survive it, Thalia. Best thing you can do is survive and keep going. Don’t let him win.”
I stare down at my reflection dancing on the surface of the remaining watery broth in the bowl. Tired. Beaten. The defeat stares up at me and stokes the embers of anger still flickering inside of me. The small bit of life that still burns within. With a nod, I lift the bowl to my face, and drink the last bit of broth, swallowing down the pathetic reflection of myself.
When I’m finished, he takes the bowl from my hands.
“Why did you ask Atticus about Jack?”
“Don’t worry about him right now. You need to build your strength.”
“No. I want to know. Don’t leave me in the dark on this.”
“Atticus is searching for him. Turns out, we have a contact on the inside. Brandon.”
“Who is he?”
“A Legion soldier whose brother was locked inside Calico when it sealed shut. He was part of our group, when we went in search of Valdys.”
“He lives in Szolen now?”
“Yes. Seems he took up with a woman named--”
“Gwen. The spy.”
“Yeah.”
“And, so what of Jack?”
“It’s believed he left for a raid, according to Brandon. Hasn’t returned yet.”
“So, what happens when Atticus finds him?”
Brows lowered, Titus looks away from me. “He plans to kill him.”
“No. No! Jack is my kill, Titus. Mine. He murdered my father.”
“He sentenced Atticus to hell. He’s just as bent on revenge as you.”
“Don’t let him do this. Don’t let him take this away from me.” Tears gather in my eyes all over again. God, how many tears does it take before they dry out? I swore there was nothing left in me, but there must be. “I couldn’t fight Remus. I tried, but I couldn’t. I need this, Titus. I need this vengeance.”
“You’re in no shape to kill a fly, let alone a seasoned Legion soldier.”
“I’m not weak! I’m broken, lost. I’m angry. But I’m not weak. You, of all people, should know that!”
“You’re not weak. We’ll find him. And you’ll have your revenge.”
“Promise me. Promise me that I’ll be the one to end his life.”
“I promise you.” He leans forward to plant a kiss to my forehead, the sensation turning my stomach inside out.
Behind my shuttered lids, I see Remus’s mouth clamped to my throat, sucking my skin as he pounded out his climax.
I kick my head away, and the agony of my rejection hits me like a stab to my heart. That I could possibly be repulsed by Titus this way tears a gaping hole in my chest that brims with the hate I feel toward Remus. As he pulls away from me, I roll over in the bed, turning away, and I let the misery drown me.
I watch through my window as the light of day fades into the darkness of another night, when my nightmares will surely come
alive. When the shadows step down from the walls and stand over me, waiting for my most vulnerable moments.
Nighttime is when Remus visits me. When he crawls out of hiding to torment me with his whispers and phantom touch. Not even closing my eyes can make him disappear.
But I do, anyway. I close them, and soon, I’m drifting on clouds, caught between sleep and consciousness.
“Thalia.” The sound of his voice in my ear is like a razor blade across my skin. I want to carve his words out of my skull and burn them. “Thalia, wake up!”
“Leave me alone. Leave me alone!”
“I never told you … Jack promised you to me. Did you know that?”
I’ve heard this before. These words. Remus spoke them during one of his torments. Screwing my eyes shut takes me back to that moment.
He pushes the hilt of his blade roughly up inside of me. “How does it feel to be fucked by the knife that cut out his eye?”
My stomach turns over on itself, the vomit creeping up the back of my throat.
“Fuck you!” I scream, turning away from him. Staring at the wall, I will myself to that safe place. On the sea. The placid sea with Titus rowing us away.
Remus says something else. Words that grow distant, as I drift into the dark, parallel world.
“Jack promised you to me. Did you know that? After we killed your father. He agreed to hand you over to me. In exchange for my loyalty.”
Jack.
“You were always fated to be mine, Thalia.” Taking hold of my arms, he presses down on me.
I kick and scream. “No! Get off of me! Get off of me!”
“Thalia!”
When I open my eyes, Titus is standing over me, holding my arms against the bed.
“Let me go! Let me go!”
He releases me, holding up his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you. You were pounding at the wall. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I can’t stop seeing him. He’s everywhere. When I’m awake. When I sleep! He won’t leave me alone!”
“He can’t hurt you, Thalia, I promise. They’re just visions.”
“They’re real!” A sob finally breaks through, and I clamp my hands over my ears, as the echo of Remus’s whispers reverberate inside my head. “He won’t shut up! I just want to … to shut him up! If I could just shut him up!”
“Shut him up. Make him go away.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. Pretend I’m Remus. I’m the one who hurt you. I’m the one who makes you suffer every night.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I shake my head. “No. No you’re not.”
Rough hands shake my body, the clawed fingers on my skin startling me out of my escape. I’m no longer in my bedroom back at the cabin, but on Remus’s bed. I look around the room and find Agatha sitting on the chair, as usual, with her drink in hand. Her lips kick up into a smile.
My necklace is draped over her collarbone.
The cabin with Titus was just a dream, then?
Beneath me, Remus lies arched, his head tipped back, eyes closed. “Look at her, Agatha. She loves it.”
I stare down at myself, uncuffed, rolling my hips against his, as if … as if enjoying sex with him.
“I told you. You wanted this, Thalia. You wanted me. You’re moaning.”
The anger explodes inside of me, and I rail my fist into his face. “Shut up!”
“Listen to you asking for more. Begging me. Titus would be so disappointed. If he were alive.”
“Fuck you!” I slam another punch to his face, and another. Any moment, his guards will pry me off and punish me for this, but I keep going, because the hate feels good. “I hate you! I fucking hate you! You rotten piece of shit! Go to hell!”
He tightens his grip, and something inside of me snaps. The blackness explodes to a haze of red, and I hit him, over and over, until blood coats my knuckles, splashing up into my eyes. I hit him until my hands are bruised and sore. Until he silences.
I collapse against him, my whole body trembling with a rush of adrenaline.
“You moaned,” Remus whispers, and my thoughts take me back to the one night, when I was swept up in my fantasy with Titus, rowing along in our paper boat. He leaned in to kiss me. I kissed him back, and when I opened my eyes, it was Remus’s mouth pressed against mine.
I finally crack.
All the pain. All the shame rolls out of me.
Strong arms come around, enveloping me, and I squirm to get loose, but his grip is like steel.
I lift my head to find it isn’t Remus beneath me, but Titus. Blood trickles out of his nose and his lip that I’ve split open. I trail my gaze down to his chest, where I’ve clawed at his skin so hard, it’s torn deep glistening grooves into his flesh. What I thought was real was only imagined.
Tears leak from my eyes, sharpening the features of his face, and I place my fingers to a red mark left on his cheek. “What have I done?”
“What you had to do.”
“No. I didn’t want to hurt you. Not you.”
“I’d face death to see the light in your eyes again. You can’t take your anger out on him now, but you can take it out on me, if you need to. This is better than watching you die every day. At least I know you’re still in there. You still have fight in you.” He reaches up to grab the back of my neck. “Hit me if you need to. I can take it all.”
“No. No more.” I lean forward to press my lips to his, hesitating for a moment, but follow through this time. The scent of him is overwhelming. Metal and fire hitting the back of my throat and watering my mouth. Leaning further, I breathe him in, curling my fingers around his flesh.
His scent. God, I can’t get enough of it. I want more. Need more.
He grips my shoulders, pushing me away from him. “It’s the injections you were given.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember the bonding I spoke of, with Cali?”
At my nod, he strokes a hand down my hair. “It’s very strong with the shots.”
“You feel it, too?”
“I felt it before the shots, but it’s pretty powerful now. I promise I won’t touch you, though.”
“I want your touch, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid that all I’ll see is him.”
“I can’t save you from this hell. Much as I want to, I can’t take what he did away from you. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Exhaling a shaky breath through my nose, I kiss him again, feeling the tingle at the back of my throat, the same butterflies as before. Only now, I’m more guarded. More vulnerable to the risk that I’ll wake to Remus. “I love you,” I breathe. Even still, the words are worth saying. They’re worth the pain of ridicule and rejection, because they’re my truth.
His brows come together, and I stare down at him, waiting for what comes next. For his face to morph into Remus’s. The laughter. The pain of having ripped open my chest, only to be forced to face the unrequited silence.
A sharp exhale escapes him, and the tightening of his jaw is the physical proof of a battle raging inside of him. “When I was captured as a boy, those were the last words my mother said to me. Like a chain that’d been snipped, I feared that was the last time I’d ever hear, or say, them again.” He rubs his thumb over my lips, gaze fixed there. “The love I feel for you is endless. Infinite. Unbreakable.”
I rest my head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, and let him wisp me away to the black, placid sea.
Chapter 43
The masculine scent fills my nose, casting a chill over my skin. Still asleep, my lips hunt the source of it, tongue dragging over flesh. It’s a strange sensation, like hunger and excitement hitting me all at once. At the sound of a deep guttural growl, I open my eyes.
Remus smiles up at me, his deformed fingers tracing my temple, and I back myself down his body.
“No! No! No!” Clamping my eyes shut, I turn away from him.
“Thalia.”
It’s Titus’s deep
voice that draws me back again, and with a nervous tickle in my chest, I dare to open an eye, praying he’s real. It’s his handsome face that greets me, with the telling lines of concern etched into his tight brow.
He’s not Remus.
Remus isn’t here.
Remus is dead.
I climb back up his body, falling beside him, where he cradles me in his arm, against him. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, exactly?”
“That I can’t … that I … see him. And I want to see you. Only you.”
“You will. When you’re ready to see me.”
I lift my gaze to the patch at his eye. “May I look?”
“It isn’t pretty.”
“It’s fuel. It makes me hate him. And hate has to be stronger than fear. Stronger than pain. Otherwise people wouldn’t do horrible things to others, right?”
Instead of answering, he lifts the patch to expose the mutilated flesh beneath, the sight of which stirs fury in the pit of my gut. The socket has been stitched, and the sutures have healed nicely, but the destruction is there, and at the memory of Remus making light of it during his tortures, I grind my jaw. Tears of rage fill my eyes, as my muscles tense, spoiling to throttle something. “Tell me he screamed in his suffering. Tell me he begged for your mercy.”
“He did. Until his last breath, he begged, and I still denied him.”
“This hate is not who I am, Titus. But the pain he’s caused. The suffering … He didn’t deserve mercy. And I’m glad you didn’t grant it. I hope he rots in hell eternally.”
“Seeing him bent over you with the blade. I lost my mind. Just snapped. Like I was seeing the world through the eyes of an animal.”
I remember Freya’s words, that a savage lies in the heart of all men, and it occurs to me how true it is. Except, some men are driven by different impulses. Some men are violent for different reasons, and those reasons lie in the very depths of the heart. “My father used to say that a man’s lust for bloodshed is a consequence of whatever desire stirs his heart.”
He cups my jaw, stroking his thumb over my cheek. “You move like the waves inside mine, Thalia.” Face hardening with pain, he turns his eyes away from mine. “When I lifted your limp body from that bed, I realized how vulnerable I could be. How weak.”