Illumined Shadows (Treble and the Lost Boys Book 3)

by G. R. Lyons

  He stumbled against the stranger, who pulled him closer. “Easy, now. I've got you.”

  Cam frowned. Where was he again? And who was this guy?

  The stranger stroked a hand down Cam's back and gave his ass a squeeze.

  Cam flinched and tried to pull away, but his vision was tunneling down, and he wasn't quite sure he could even feel his legs anymore.

  They rounded a corner, and the stranger slipped an arm around his waist, eager fingers groping at his crotch.

  Then everything faded to black.

  * * *

  VIC FOLLOWED a guy who beckoned him across the dance floor. He pushed Cam out of his mind, determined to salvage some aspect of this night before his entire life went to shit. Cam would tell Dad, and then all seven hells would break loose. For now, though, he was damned well going to enjoy this experience.

  He'd figure out how to start his life over later. After Dad inevitably kicked him out.

  A small part of him hoped Cam wouldn't ever say a word to Dad, but he wasn't sure he could count on it. Not after the things he'd just said. Still, he was pissed. This night was supposed to be perfect, and it was already falling apart.

  But with an attractive guy looking him over and inviting him into the backroom, maybe the night would get better. Maybe he could finally experience the bliss of being touched by another man, and hold on to that memory once his life exploded when his parents came home.

  Vic stepped into the backroom, shivering as the door shut behind him, the flashing lights and booming music of the club giving way to shadows and the sounds of fucking all around him. He squinted into the dark corners, his cock going rock-hard at the sight of naked men at every turn. Men stroking cocks. Men on their knees. Men pressed up against the walls, their asses being fucked hard, moaning and grunting in time with every thrust.

  Gods, it was everything Vic had dreamt about.

  The handsome stranger grabbed Vic and pressed him back against the wall. Vic moaned, leaning into the touch. A hand slithered down inside his pants, and Vic gave a shout, his eyes rolling back. There was a hand on his cock. A hand that wasn't his own.

  Oh gods. It was just so fucking incredible.

  Vic thrust into the touch, then gasped as the hand was ripped free, only for Vic to be spun around and shoved against the wall again. He threw out his hands, bracing himself, and glanced over his shoulder.

  The handsome stranger reached around and yanked Vic's pants open, shoving them down to his knees. Vic gulped, feeling his face go red. His ass was bare in a room full of strangers, and he was suddenly sure every pair of eyes in the room was on him. His heart raced, and he was tempted to pull up his pants and run, but then a hand was on his cock again, and his brain short-circuited. Nothing else mattered but that touch.

  Something cold drizzled down his crack. Vic shivered, and tried to look over his shoulder. The stranger jabbed a couple of fingers between his cheeks, roughly spreading around something slick. Lube, Vic realized.

  He tried to grab onto the wall, but there was nothing to hold on to. Oh gods. Was he really ready for this? He wanted an experience with a man, but did he want it this way? He'd always pictured himself as a top, but maybe this was normal? Maybe, being a kid, with an adult bigger than him standing behind him, maybe this was the way things had to be?

  But he didn't want it this way. Not really. Even though it would be an experience, it wasn't shaping up to be the perfect first time he'd dreamt about.

  Then, suddenly, it was too late, as a hard cock suddenly ripped him apart, shoving its way inside him all in one go.

  Vic screamed, his entire body tensing up around that painful intrusion. Fuck. Oh gods. Fuck. It hurt. It hurt so much more than he'd ever imagined.

  The stranger reached around again and grabbed Vic's cock, stroking it back to life. Despite the pain in his backside, Vic moaned.

  Then the man began to move, pulling out until Vic almost felt relief, only to shove back in again as hard as he could, slamming Vic against the wall. Vic turned his head to one side, flatted his hands against the wall, and endured.

  Grunts were heavy in Vic's ear as the man continued to fuck him, Vic's bare ass getting slapped hard with every thrust of that cock into his body. The pain eased a bit, and there was even a little pleasure when the man hit what must be his prostate in just the right way, but it still wasn't the beautiful experience of his fantasies.

  What the hells had he been thinking?

  The man's pace stuttered, and he shouted into Vic's ear, slamming hard and deep a few more times before slumping against Vic, squeezing him against the wall.

  Vic hadn't come. Not even close. Hells, he wasn't even hard anymore.

  He just wanted to go home.

  Finally, the man pulled out, and Vic scrambled to pull up his pants as he watched the guy toss the condom aside. Vic cringed. He hadn't even thought of that. Thank gods, the stranger had.

  How stupid could he be?

  His hole ached and his ass was still slick and sticky with lube, but Vic didn't care. He had to get out of there. He just had to get home, and then he could shower and scrub away this gods-awful experience.

  Vic fastened his jeans and ran out of the club.

  He sprinted across the street, unchained his bike, and raced home, keeping himself pressed up on the pedals rather than riding the seat, his ass too sore to even consider it. He got home in record time, tossing his bike aside and rushing inside. He'd put the bike away properly later. After a shower.

  After he talked to Cam.

  Vic stripped off his clothes as he crossed his room, and jumped into the shower even before the water was hot. He scrubbed himself down, feeling used and dirty and humiliated. His dream shattered as he watched the water swirl down the drain.

  Taking a deep breath, Vic pressed his hands to the wall and hung his head. He closed his eyes and mentally braced himself. He needed to be calm when he talked to Cam. He'd have to apologize for what he said, and hope Cam would keep his secret.

  Otherwise, if Dad found out about this night, his entire life would implode.

  Vic drew himself up, got out of the shower, got dressed, gathered up his discarded clothes and tossed them in the laundry, then headed down the hall.

  “Cam?” He checked Cam's room, but his brother wasn't there. Vic went downstairs, but Cam wasn't playing his video games, either. Frowning, Vic called, “Cam?”

  There was no response. A chill ran through Vic, the house eerily silent.

  He ran back upstairs and checked every room. Every closet. Under every bed. Then he went downstairs again and did the same. He looked in every cupboard, behind every piece of furniture, and dug through the basement and garage, but there was no sign of his brother.

  Shit. Vic had told Cam to disappear for a few days. Maybe Cam had done just that.

  Vic raced back up to his room, grabbed his phone, and dialed Cam's number. The call rang four times, then went to voicemail.

  Cam was probably ignoring him. Understandably so.

  “Cam, look, I'm sorry about what I said, alright?” Vic told him. “Just come home and we can talk about this.”

  He rang off and set his phone aside, then just stood there, staring at the thing, waiting for Cam to call back.

  An hour passed, and Cam still hadn't returned his call. Vic dialed his number again, and once more Cam ignored it, letting it ring through to voicemail.

  “Cam, it's late. Just come home, alright? I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

  Vic set his phone aside and slumped onto his bed, then stood right back up, the pressure on his ass a painful reminder of how the night had gone so far.

  He wandered downstairs and turned on the wallscreen, idly flipping through channels while he kept one eye out the front window, waiting to spot Cam returning home.

  Two more hours went by, and still no word from Cam.

  Vic groaned and grabbed his phone again. He just wanted to go to bed. Get some sleep, forget about his shattered fant
asies, and move on.

  “Cam, where the hells are you?” he said to Cam's voicemail. “I'm getting worried.” Past worried, he thought. “Please, come home.”

  An hour later, after Vic had nearly paced a hole in the carpet, he pocketed his phone and darted outside. The early hours were creepy, the city so dark and silent as he grabbed his discarded bicycle and headed back toward town, retracing his steps and scanning all around.

  Maybe Cam had an accident. Maybe he fell off his bike, weak from his recent cold. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he couldn't reach his phone. Maybe he'd gone to the hospital and they'd called Dad instead.

  No, Vic would have gotten an angry call from Dad if that were the case.

  Fighting exhaustion, Vic pushed on.

  He checked every inch of the streets he traveled, but there was no sign of Cam.

  The club was just shutting down for the night when Vic reached it. He jumped off his bike and ran up to the door, yanking his phone out of his pocket as he went.

  He pulled up a picture of Cam and held it up to the first guy he reached. “Have you seen my brother? He was here earlier.”

  “Sorry, kid.” The guy brushed him off and stumbled away.

  Vic asked the next guy, and the next, and every other man he could catch as they filed out of the club, but not one of them had seen Cam. He hung around the doorway until the last person left, locking the front door, then slumped down on the sidewalk, watching the men all disappear into the night.

  That was when he looked up and spotted the bicycle rack across the street, the same one where Vic had chained his own bike earlier. Vic got up and sprinted over to it. Cam's bike was there. Had probably been there when Vic raced out of the club earlier, and he'd been too frantic to notice.

  So where the hells was Cam?

  “Cam!” Vic shouted, looking all around. “Cam, where are you?”

  The only response he got was a few people yelling at him to quiet down.

  Vic called Cam again, the repetitive sound of the four monotone rings grating on his nerves. Once again, voicemail. “Cam, please. Please call me back. Or just come home, alright? We can talk about this. I'll make it up to you. Whatever it takes. Just call me back.”

  He lowered his arm with a sigh and looked around again. Where the hells was Cam?

  Vic wandered the streets all around the club in every direction, trying to figure out where Cam might have gone. On foot, all alone. None of Cam's favorite places were anywhere near there, but maybe anger and determination had carried him far enough. Vic got on his bike and spread his search, going to Cam's favorite park, then the arcade—even though he knew perfectly well that it was closed at that hour—and even Cam's school, but there was still no sign of the kid.

  He headed back toward the club, deciding to start over his search from where he'd last seen Cam. Vic pulled out his phone again as he went, dialing Cam's number as he coasted down the street just around the corner from the club.

  The phone rang in his ear, and the sound seemed to echo.

  Vic jerked his bike to a stop, frowning as he listened. The phone kept ringing while the sound repeated somewhere nearby.

  The hells? Vic climbed off his bike and let it fall to the ground as he trailed the noise. The ringing stopped as the voicemail picked up, so he rang off and dialed again. Sure enough, the sound started up in time with his phone.

  Vic turned down the alleyway behind the club, the noise getting louder as he went. The sound stopped again, so he dialed once more, heading deeper into the shadows until he saw the light of a screen on the ground.

  He froze on the spot, then slowly crept forward, eyes fixed on the cracked screen.

  Vic calling…

  “Cam,” Vic choked out, darting forward and snatching up Cam's phone, the screen displaying all of the missed calls Vic had made.

  Vic whirled around, looking in every direction, trying to see anything in the shadowy alleyway, but his brother wasn't there. Just the discarded phone. All those calls Cam had never seen.

  Pocketing Cam's phone, Vic dug through every inch of the alley by the light of his own phone screen, then emerged back onto the street, filthy and dripping with sweat, all alone in the early morning silence. Cam's bike seemed to glare at him, all by itself in the rack just down the block.

  Vic shuffled out into the middle of the empty street, slowly turning as he looked in every direction. Cam could be anywhere.

  He had no idea what to do.

  * * *

  VIC STUMBLED his way down yet another street. He'd been searching for Cam for two days, showing his picture to anyone he came across, checking in at the hospital and every doctor's office he could find, but coming up with nothing. His brother had simply vanished without a trace.

  With little food and no sleep, Vic kept searching. He had to find his brother. Cam's immune system was weak, probably even more so after the last cold he'd had, which meant he could be violently ill somewhere and in need of help. But Vic had to find him, first. He had to find Cam and get his brother treated.

  He no longer even cared if Dad found out. He'd take whatever punishment Dad gave him, as long as he knew Cam was going to be alright.

  Vic pushed on and kept searching, his arms shaking as he tried to steer his bike, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. But he couldn't rest. He couldn't stop until he found Cam.

  Night began to blanket the city once again. Vic hadn't seen his brother in forty-eight hours, and he felt like he'd been down every single street and alleyway in Morbran City without finding so much as a hint as to where his brother might be.

  Cam was out there somewhere. All alone. Probably thirsty and starving. Maybe scared. Vic had long ago given up on the idea that Cam was probably just hiding out, being petulant and angry, though he'd been tempted to cling to that idea. No, something was very wrong. He had to find Cam now.

  Vic brought his bike to a stop and rubbed his eyes. He was so desperate for sleep, but he couldn't let himself stop searching until he found Cam and got his brother home safe. He scanned the street he was on, then pushed on to the next. Vic had to keep going. That was all there was to it.

  He reached another alleyway and stopped. A chill ran through him, one that he couldn't explain. He'd already searched this alleyway twice, but something about it called to him now. Staring into the shadows, Vic slid shakily off his bike and let it fall to the side as he took one unsteady step after another toward the garbage bin in front of him.

  Vic stopped. Maybe he was just delirious from lack of food and sleep, but he got the most dreadful feeling that Cam was here.

  He took another step forward and stopped again. Beside the garbage bin was a new heap of trash bags, all piled haphazardly and spilling out onto the pavement. Swallowing hard, Vic took one more step, and froze.

  A hand. There was a hand poking out between two garbage bags. Below the hand, around a frail wrist, was a bracelet. The bracelet Vic had given Cam for his birthday.

  “Cam!” Vic cried, darting forward and yanking garbage bags aside, slowly but surely unearthing his brother's body.

  Vic froze again at the sight of Cam. His brother was naked, his body covered in blood and bruises.

  He was still breathing, but barely.

  Vic fumbled for his phone and dialed an emergency number.

  The call was barely answered before tears streamed down his cheeks as he begged, “Please, help. My brother's hurt. He needs help…”

  * * *

  VIC STARED through the window in the door, his eyes riveted to Cam's fragile form lying in the hospital bed. Cam was utterly still except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, aided by a machine. Cam couldn't breathe on his own, and that was the least of it.

  Dr. Garrison's gentle words buzzed angrily through Vic's head on repeat.

  Head trauma…brain swelling…broken and bruised ribs…internal bleeding…fractured wrist…semen in his rectum…no DNA match…torn anus…carpet fibers under his fingernails…

  Coma
.

  Vic pressed his hands over his ears, but it didn't stop the horrible words dancing around inside his brain. His brother had been raped. Beaten to the point of unconsciousness. Tossed into a garbage pile and left for dead.

  And all because Vic had shouted cruel words at him instead of taking him home.

  Vic's phone rang again. He barely gave the screen a cursory glance, and shoved it back into his pocket. His father hadn't stopped calling since the hospital had called the man to give him the news on Cam's presence there. Vic's life would be over as soon as his parents returned home—he knew they were already on their way, cutting their trip short—but he didn't care. Nothing could be as earth-shattering as hearing his own words run through his head as he watched Cam hover on the edge of death.

  He couldn't speak to his father yet. The anger and accusations would come soon enough. For the moment, all he could do was stare at Cam and beg all the gods to let Cam survive.

  “Mr. Lucius?”

  Vic blinked and tore his eyes away from the window. One of the nurses approached him, wearing a gentle smile as she held out a bag. Vic reached out mechanically and took it.

  “We normally give a patient's personal effects to the parents,” the nurse explained softly, “but considering what was on that, I thought you'd prefer to have it.”

  Vic blinked dumbly at her, then slowly looked down at the bag. Moving on autopilot, he opened the bag and reached in, pulling out the only thing it contained, the only thing Cam had been wearing when the ambulance had brought him in.

  A woven bracelet, one that Vic had given Cam for his birthday just last month, the braided threads stitched through with words that were now stained with blood.

  Clutching the bracelet in his right fist and choking out sobs, Vic turned and punched the wall with his left hand. Then he did it again. And again. Over and over, sobbing and screaming, Vic punched the wall until his own blood ran over his fist, the stitched words stained with his brother's blood now permanently visible to him, even when he closed his eyes.