white dawn (Black Tiger Series Book 3)

by Sara Baysinger

  But seeing him like this—tears wetting his eyelashes, hands trembling, breaths ragged—it hurts. Because I’ve missed the Titus of my childhood so much. He was my only friend apart from Krin. We laughed together while watching Patricians on the surveillance cameras, cried together when Father lost his temper, confided in each other all our secrets and hopes and dreams.

  But he took my dreams and smashed them against the wall. By keeping me locked up, he betrayed my trust. By taking away Gideon, he stripped me of all hope. By throwing the last piece of Mom I had left over the balcony hours ago, he threw away any chance he had at my sympathy.

  “You stole sixteen years of my life from me,” I whisper.

  “Three. Father stole the other thirteen.”

  “Still.” I glare at him through my tears. “You could have released me, and you didn’t. One day of your regret can’t replace three years of my life. You’ve ruined me forever, Titus. I’ll never live fully without fear. I’ll never get to experience the joys of a normal life.” I think of Rain, the way he looked at me when he thought I was Ember, and how no one will ever look at me that way because I’m. Screwed. Up. “My life will always have this shadow hanging over it, and all the apologies in the world can’t take it away.”

  Something seems to die in his eyes. Like he’s realizing for the first time the magnitude of which he messed me up. Like it’s the first time he’s thinking about someone other than himself, and it’s completely destroying him.

  I shake my head, my eyes burning. “I can never forgive you.”

  His eyes snap, and by the shattered look, I almost regret my words. Almost.

  “I know,” he says huskily, rubbing his palms on his pants. “I didn’t expect you to. I made my bed. For so long, I accepted who I was, decided there was no room for change. I’d done so many things, killed so many people, I never thought there was place in heaven for me. God handed my soul to the devil the day Mother left, and the devil raised me to be just like him.” He leans his head back, stares at the ceiling. “My guilt nearly killed me after I took Gideon away, and that’s why I stopped visiting you.” He tilts his head. “I couldn’t handle seeing you without wanting to end my life.”

  My eyes widen. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “So I ignored the fact that you were there. I avoided even thinking about what I’d done to you, for fear that the guilt would crush me.” He shakes his head. “And…I was working on bringing Gideon back before Ember showed up. I was going to bring him back, pretend like I found him with the rebels, but I couldn’t tell you that. Not without you finding out I was the one who took him in the first place. And I know—I know it wasn’t the right move. The guilt…it’s consuming me even now.”

  His throat convulses in a hard swallow, and he tips his head down and stares at me. “But the look in Mother’s eyes just before I put the bullet through her head…” He shakes his head, blinks, and a tear splashes down his cheek. “She really did love us, Rory. She looked at me like I was her last glimpse of the sun.” His voice is thick with agony, on the verge of breaking down. “I-I put the gun against her forehead, and…sh-she stared into my eyes and nodded. She nodded. She told me to do what I had to do. That she saw greatness in me. That she would be waiting for me on the other side.” He’s crying now. Tears rolling down both cheeks, voice strained, regret in every word. “She didn’t beg for her life. She didn’t tell me how disappointed she was in me. She said she forgave me. And I—I pulled the trigger.”

  His voice cuts off and he hunches over, covers his head, and digs his hands into his hair while his body wracks with his sobs. And without thinking, I kneel beside him and gather him in my arms. For the first time in years, physical contact with Titus doesn’t completely disgust me. The walls around my heart crumble more with each sob that escapes him. How many tears has he shed over this painful memory? How many nights did he lie alone in bed, weeping over this giant secret he couldn’t share with anyone? Titus has done so many terrible things, and despite his claims, he is remorseful. The things he’s done have followed him around like demons, haunted his nightmares, darkened his days. His remorse might possibly be a worse punishment than any form of torture could have been.

  Before I know it, I’m crying with him. Silent tears roll down my cheeks, and I decide that maybe my last night alive with remorseful Titus is better than being alone.

  “And then that note,” Titus continues when he’s able to speak again. “She knew. Holy Crawford, she knew, Rory. She knew Father would make me kill her. Can you believe it? And she still forgave me.”

  Guilt rises up to choke me. Mother forgave Titus with the knowledge that he would kill her himself.

  And I can’t get myself to even think about forgiving him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  AURORA

  The next morning, I stay in my room alone until a guard arrives to take us to Prometheus’s office, where they will discuss who has the better alternative and who gets to die today. I didn’t even bother thinking up a plan, and now I’m starting to regret it. Because it means I won’t see Gideon. It means my son will be raised by Titus, a monster. It means he has a huge possibility of turning into a monster himself. It means I’ve already failed as a mother, and he’s not even two years old yet.

  Titus and I both climb into the back of the vehicle. He’s oddly quiet, staring out his window as we fly through the city. He hasn’t looked at me all morning. Which is fine. I’m sure he’s humiliated by his behavior, and humility doesn’t suit him. Despite what he said last night, how he apologized and wept, I still hate him. Because I know Titus, and I know it was a show. I loathe the fact that he’s lived a good, easy life, and he’s going to get to take Gideon, and he’s going to get to live a longer, happier life here in Nashville, if not Ky. The injustice of it all makes me sick—how I was locked up all my life, let out to taste freedom for only a few months before dying. This life, it’s every man and woman for themselves. And those of us who are weak are losing.

  The vehicle pulls up in front of the palace, and Titus and I head up the steps, into the palace, through the halls. I feel numb. I feel like I’ve already died. I feel nothing but regret and confusion. When we step through the doors of the office, I scan the round table where Prometheus sits. But instead of Titus sitting beside him, it’s Summer.

  I still can’t figure out who’s side she’s on. I can’t decide if she just doesn’t like tension and so pretends to be on my side, or if she has absolutely no control over Prometheus, but sympathizes with us. It doesn’t really matter, though. If she has no control, there’s nothing she can do. She stares at the table. Prometheus leans back in his chair. The others in the circle look bored, some typing on their tablets, others resting their heads on their hands. They look like they just finished the most boring meeting ever. Like determining who is going to die is just a hiccup in their day. I wonder how Titus feels being in the position so many of his citizens were in at his disposal. I smirk, but the smirk vanishes as quickly as it comes, because he’s not really in that same place. He’s going to live and he knows it.

  “So,” Prometheus begins. “Who wants to go first?”

  I look down and wait for Titus to pipe up. But he doesn’t.

  “Anyone?” Prometheus says.

  I cast a sidelong glance at Titus. He stands erect, as if he were the chief here and not Prometheus. Finally, he speaks. “Ladies first.” He looks at me for the first time today, his eyes void of emotion, and arches a brow. “Go ahead, sister.”

  What is he doing? He knows I don’t have a plan. He must be milking my misery. He always did enjoy putting on a show. He wants to hear my pathetic plan so he could shoot it down with his brilliant one.

  I’m too tired to play his games.

  “I’ve got nothing,” I say.

  He heaves out a sigh, clearly irritated, and looks at the ceiling. “You have to have some idea, Rory. Even if you come up with something on the spot.” He lo
oks at me beseechingly. “Give us anything.”

  I smother the urge to call him a foul word. “I refuse to put anyone else’s life at risk so I can have my son back. There’s no honor in that.”

  He shakes his head. “We’re past the point of honor. This is a matter of life and death. If you don’t have a solution, you’re going to die.”

  “Then I’ll die.”

  His eyes snap to meet mine. No humor, no smirk, no foul sarcasm. “Come on, Rory. I know you’ve got it in you. Tell them something. Anything!”

  Prometheus smothers a snort and leans back in his chair, clearly entertained. The others in the circle chuckle. They don’t look so bored anymore. Just like Titus wanted, he’s putting on a good show for the people of Nashville. I clamp my mouth shut and stand straighter, awaiting my sentence. I feel dead inside. I feel like I did after Gideon was ripped from my arms and before I was let out of my room. I guess, in a sense, Gideon is being ripped from my life again, and I’m the one making it happen.

  “Well, Titus?” Prometheus says. “I guess that’s your cue to go.”

  Titus stares right at me, his eyes burning emeralds in the sunset. “Come on, sis. You’ve got to have something. Even if it doesn’t involve killing people. Just come up with a solution. Any. Shoddy. Solution.”

  Why is he acting like he actually wants me to live?

  Accepting the bait, I look at Prometheus. “I think you should end the entertainment. Or—or turn it into something else. Like, an olympics of sorts.” I remember our history lessons and how the world used to compete in these big events. “Have people volunteer to compete in an event like racing or shooting or something—without people getting harmed—and then reward the winners.”

  He stares at me like that was the stupidest idea he’s ever heard. “Reward? Sorry, Aurora, but everyone in Nashville has everything they want, including near immortality. What is the gain, if they can’t gain anything else?”

  “The gain of being the best. And the audience gets to take bets on who they think is the best. Have filmed practices so people can watch from home and decide who they think will win.”

  “Just like the old world.” He sighs tragically. “Unfortunately, that won’t do for entertainment. Once my people have seen blood spilled, they want more. Competing in a footrace isn’t going to thrill them the same way a fight to the death would.” He looks at Titus. “So, Titus. What’s your plan?”

  Titus shrugs. “I don’t have one.”

  I look sharply at him, but he smiles.

  “You didn’t come up with a solution?” Prometheus’s face contorts in disgust. He was clearly hoping for a deal where he could send one of us back and expect a payment of our citizens, but that’t not going to happen. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just raid our country. Surely he has the resources and enough people to build an army. Ky is weak compared to Nashville, and it’s not nearly as advanced. What’s holding him back? And what’s holding Titus back from coming up with a plan? He’s demented enough to come up with something good.

  “I guess that settles it, then.” Titus shrugs. “You give Gideon to Aurora, since she had a plan.” He clears his throat. “And sentence me to death.”

  A shocked breath escapes me.

  “You’re not even going to try?” Prometheus asks, his face reddening.

  “I can’t come up with a better plan than that.”

  I’m left speechless. Titus is giving up his life to save mine. Why? What’s the catch? What’s he getting out of it? I don’t understand. Titus does nothing—nothing—without getting something out of it.

  Prometheus leans back in his chair and groans. “This is so not how everything was supposed to go. Titus, you were supposed to come up with the better plan. I was going to place you back as a leader in Ky. I even kidnapped your sister so there wouldn’t be a fight who’s leader.”

  “What?” I ask.

  He looks at me and grins. “That’s right. Ember is here in Nashville. She’ll die with you today.” He looks at Titus. “And you. You Whitcombs are pathetic. You’re failures. You’ll all three die in the arena this afternoon. The news has spread and the audience is already lining up outside the stadium. They think there will only be two of you. The twins. It’ll be a nice surprise for my people when all three Whitcomb siblings show up. It’ll be the most epic show ever to see who puts their lives on the line for the other…and who shoves their own flesh and blood off a cliff.” He flips his hand and the guard directs us out of the room.

  When we’re back in the vehicle I turn to Titus. “Why did you do that?”

  He stares blankly ahead. “I thought for sure he would let you go.” He frowns. “I guess I was wrong.”

  “Why? You’ve never given second thought to me. Why do you suddenly act like you care?”

  “How can you say that?” He pins me with those emerald eyes that are usually full of mockery, but they’re serious now. “After last night…” He shakes his head, leans it back and stares at the car ceiling. “Never mind. I get it.”

  I’m torn between embracing the Titus of my childhood and shunning the Titus who hurt me too many times. I look out the car window and allow my thoughts to disperse in twenty different directions.

  “I wonder what’s going to happen to Gideon now,” I say.

  “I’m sure Summer will keep taking care of him. He’ll adopt the life I’ve always dreamed of. But he’ll never know us.”

  “Do you even care? Was he ever really like a son to you? Or just an heir, the promise of immortality?”

  He snorts. “That’s ancient myth. I know I can’t gain immortality through an heir.”

  “Then why? Why make me sleep with you to bear your perfect, whole-blooded child?”

  “Because I loved you, Rory.” He straightens and looks at me and his eyes are raw, green forests of brutal honesty and shredded pain. “I loved you more than a sister, and that was the only way I knew I could get you.”

  My mouth drops open, but I literally have no words. Just disgust. Repulsion that he could have those feelings for me. Nausea at the way he tried to show it. I don’t want to be in the same car as him. The same city. The same planet. I want to get as far away from Titus as possible.

  “You have a twisted sense of love.” I look at the car floor, unable—not wanting—to believe what I just heard. “If you actually cared for me, why did you almost kill me months ago?”

  “Same reason I killed Forest. You were a threat.”

  My eyes meet his. “Why did you take Gideon away, if you wanted me to be happy?” None of this is making sense to me.

  His jaw tightens. “You’re the one person I ever felt alive with. You were the one person I trusted wholly. And I—I thought, once I slept with you, you would start to love me the way I loved you. But how could I get you to sleep with me, unless I had a reason? Hence, my supposed desire for a son.” He huffs out a laugh. “Instead I pushed you away. Your withdrawal was immediately noticeable. The change in our relationship…” He shakes his head too many times. “It wrecked me. You were wholly devoted to Gideon. I was forgotten—no—I was shoved out of your life after Gideon was born. I noticed your discomfort when I visited, and the way you held Gideon close to your chest like a shield. You would never let me in again, and I hated him for that.”

  He drags a hand down the length of his face, then runs both hands into his hair. “But…I loved him, too, and couldn’t get myself to completely eliminate him. He was my son. I was protective of him. He’s an Alpha Blood, and I knew I could find use of him in the future. That’s why I sent him away. Because I knew if the Resurgence found out that I had a son, they would have shaken heaven and hell to get him.” He lowers his hands and looks at me. “Like I said: I was planning on bringing him back. But I couldn’t tell you that. Not without you knowing I took him away. You would have hated me. And I couldn’t handle your hate. Not after I’d already lost our friendship.” He sighs and rubs his knees. “Then y
ou went with the Resurgence, and they told you everything. I knew I’d never have you on my side again. I’d already lost you. But I am sorry.” He looks at me, his green eyes full of a sadness I’ve never ever seen in him. “I really am sorry, Rory.”

  My hands tighten into fists at the sound of the nickname that I hate. I hate him. I hate Titus for only thinking of himself, only considering his feelings. His love is so selfish, so self-centered it’s sickening. I hate him for taking the one thing I ever cared for from me. I hate him for keeping me locked up even after Father died.

  I hate him for a lot of things.

  Fight hate with love.

  I cast another glance at Titus. He’s staring out the window, his shoulders hunched, a look of defeat etched on his features. Titus is a fighter. That’s the only Titus I have ever known. I’ve never seen this side of him. The apologetic, surrendered side. It’s strange and a little sad.

  He hasn’t asked for my forgiveness. Which is good, because I don’t know if I could ever forgive him. But I don’t know if I could die filled with this bitterness, either. I can’t die full of hate. I think of Rain, the freedom he said he felt when he forgave me. The joy that emanated from his being, the happiness in his eyes, the dazzling smile he had—a smile I hadn’t seen on him since before Ember’s death, and I realize I need that freedom, too.

  “You really messed me up, Titus.” I squeeze the words out. “Between you and Father, I’m not sure I ever had a chance to be…normal.” My fists loosen. I take a deep breath and let it out, releasing my pride with it. If Mother could do it, so can I. “But…I…forgive you.”