Chapter 22 Talon
TWENTY-TWO
TALON
I’ve always been good at fixing things.
It’s my superpower, my defining trait, the role I’ve played since I was old enough to understand that charm could defuse tension, and a well-timed joke could redirect anger.
When Dredyn’s rage threatens to consume him, I pull him back with logic wrapped in humor.
When Jasper retreats into silence, I fill the space with words until he feels safe enough to emerge.
When the world gets too heavy, I make it lighter.
But tonight, standing in the hallway between Jasper’s locked door and the basement stairs where Dredyn’s been destroying the punching bag for the past three hours, I’m starting to understand that some things can’t be fixed with charm.
Some things are just broken.
The hallway is quiet except for the rhythmic thud thud thud from below—Dredyn’s fists meeting leather, over and over, like he can punch his way through the guilt eating him alive.
I lean against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed.
Mara’s asleep in my room—our room, really, since the four of us have been rotating based on who needs her most on any given night.
Tonight, she needs sleep more than she needs any of us, so I left her curled under my blankets with Ghost purring on her pillow.
Now, I’m here, stuck between two brothers who are hemorrhaging trust and I don’t know how to stop the bleeding.
I knock on Jasper’s door. “Jas, come on, man. Let me in.”
Silence.
“I know you’re awake,” I try again. “I can hear you pacing.”
More silence.
I press my forehead against the door. “Look, I get it. You’re pissed. Dredyn fucked up. He should’ve told you about his father years ago, but he’s destroying himself down there and you’re destroying yourself in there and I don’t... I don’t know how to fix this.”
Nothing.
I wait another minute, then push off the door with a sigh. “All right. I’ll be downstairs if you change your mind.”
I know he won’t. Not tonight.
I go down to the basement and see Dredyn at the bottom, hammering the punching bag in the corner. His shirt is soaked through, hair plastered to his forehead. His form is sloppy now, exhaustion making him reckless. A particularly vicious hook makes him grunt in pain, but he doesn’t stop.
I move into his line of sight. “Dre. That’s enough.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Dredyn.”
“Fuck off, Talon.”
“Not happening.”
He finally stops, chest heaving, hands dropping to his sides. Blood seeps through the white tape on his knuckles, and when he looks at me, his eyes are hollow.
“I can’t fix this. I broke it and I can’t fix it,” he says.
“You didn’t break—”
“Yes, I did!” The explosion is sudden, violent.
He grabs the heavy bag and slams it against the wall so hard the chain rattles.
“I had information that could’ve saved Jasper years of guilt and I sat on it because I was too fucking scared to—” He stops, his jaw clenching.
“I’m my father’s son. That’s what he’s thinking up there, that I’m just like James.
A liar. A manipulator. Someone who uses people and calls it protection. ”
“He doesn’t think that.”
“You don’t know what he thinks. He won’t even look at me.”
“He needs time.”
Dredyn’s laugh is bitter. “How much time? How long until he forgives me for letting him carry that guilt when I knew—I fucking knew—that nothing he said or did would’ve changed what happened because my father ordered it?”
“He’ll come around,” I say anyway, because what else can I offer?
“Will he?” Dredyn unwraps his hands slowly, wincing as the tape pulls at split skin. “Would you? If I’d done that to you?”
I want to say yes, want to promise that our brotherhood is stronger than secrets and lies. But standing here, watching my best friend bleed from self-inflicted wounds while my other best friend locks himself away in grief and rage, I’m not sure anymore.
“I don’t know,” I admit, and the honesty tastes like failure.
Dredyn nods, like he expected that answer. “You should go check on Mara. She doesn’t need to wake up alone.”
“She’s fine. Ghost is with her.”
“The cat’s not enough.”
“Neither am I, apparently. Neither are you. Neither is Jasper. We’re all just… breaking in our own ways, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
Dredyn studies me—really looks at me for the first time tonight. “You okay?”
“No.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “No, I’m really fucking not. But that’s not important right now.”
“Talon—”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just go take a shower. Clean those hands. Try to sleep.”
“You’re not fine.”
“Says the guy who just spent three hours trying to punch his feelings into submission.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m supposed to be the fuck-up. You’re supposed to be the one who holds us together. You’re the glue, man. You always have been.”
And there it is, the expectation that I’ll somehow paste the fractured pieces back together and make everything okay again.
Except, I can’t.
The glue is coming undone.
“What if this is too broken to fix?”
“Then we live with the cracks.” Dredyn claps my shoulder, grip firm despite the blood on his hands. “But we don’t give up. Not on each other, not on her. We find a way through.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But I know we can’t do it by pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.” His eyes bore into mine. “So stop holding it together for us and let yourself fall apart for once. We can handle it.”
Can they though? Can any of us handle more breaking when we’re already shattered?
I don’t say that out loud, just nod, step back, and head for the stairs.
I make my way back in the kitchen, trying to figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to fix this.
Except, I don’t know how. Jasper’s not wrong. Dredyn should have told us—should have trusted us months ago when he finally found out the truth about his father. Or even years ago when he overheard his father talking. Jasper is truly hurt by Dredyn, and I am too, in a way.
But Dredyn’s not wrong either. He was protecting us the only way he knows how—by keeping up in the dark until he could guarantee a plan where we wouldn’t all end up dead. The Syndicate doesn’t fuck around, and Dredyn’s been playing the long game.
They’re both right, they’re both justified, and they’re both tearing each other apart.
I grab a glass from the cabinet, fill it with water I don’t want, and down it like it might help. It doesn’t. Nothing helps. My hands are shaking.
The glass slips.
I don’t mean to drop it. Don’t mean for it to shatter against the edge of the sink, sending shards scattering across the counter. My hand shoots out on instinct to catch it, and pain flares bright and immediate across my palm.
I stare down at the blood welling up between my fingers, dark red against pale skin, and feel... nothing. All I feel is numb, detached. Like I’m watching it happen to someone else.
“Talon?”
Mara’s voice cuts through the fog, and I blink, focusing on her as she appears in the doorway. Her eyes go wide when she sees my hand.
“Shit, what did you do?” She’s across the kitchen in seconds, reaching for my wrist.
“Dropped a glass.” My voice sounds distant even to my own ears. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
She pulls me toward the sink, running cold water over my hand despite my half-hearted protest. The sting brings me back to myself, sharpening the edges of reality until I can’t hide behind the numbness anymore.
“Talon, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just clumsy.”
“Bullshit.” She turns off the water, grabs a clean towel, and presses it against my palm with more care than I probably deserve. “You’re the least clumsy person I know. Talk to me.”
I laugh, but it comes out bitter. “What’s there to talk about? My two best friends are ripping each other apart and I don’t know how to stop it.”
“So you decided to break glass?”
“Didn’t mean to.” I try to pull my hand back, but she holds on. “I just... I don’t know what to do, Mara. This is what I do—I fix things. I make people laugh, smooth things over, keep everyone from killing each other. But this? I can’t... I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Maybe you can’t.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“Maybe it’s not about fixing it. Maybe it’s about letting them work through it.”
“And if they don’t? If they can’t get past this? If Dredyn leaves or Jasper shuts down completely or... We’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to be brothers, and I’m just... standing here, useless.”
Mara’s quiet for a long moment, still holding my hand.
Then she guides me to the kitchen table, sits me down, and pulls out the first aid kit from under the sink.
She doesn’t answer right away, just cleans the wound with steady hands, applies antiseptic that stings like hell, and starts wrapping gauze around my palm with practiced efficiency.
“When I first met you, on that balcony at the party, I was drowning. Chase had just... I felt powerless, like I had no control over anything in my life. And then you were there, and you kissed me, and you agreed to be my fake boyfriend without hesitation. You gave me back a piece of control I thought I’d lost.”
“Mara—”
“Let me finish.” She secures the gauze with tape, then looks up at me. “You think you’re just the light one, the easy one. But you’re wrong. You’re the one who holds us together. Not despite your lightness, but because of it.”
I want to argue, but the words stick in my throat.
“Jasper would burn himself alive if you weren’t there to remind him to breathe,” she continues. “Dredyn’s control would suffocate him if you didn’t make him laugh. And me? I’d be lost in the darkness without you reminding me there’s still light.”
I surge forward and crash my mouth against hers.
My good hand fists in her hair, yanking her head back so I can take her deeper, devouring the soft moan that vibrates against my tongue.
Mara gives as good as she gets. Her nails rake down my neck hard enough to leave marks, and I growl into her mouth, shoving out of the chair so fast it scrapes across the floor.
I lift her onto the table in one motion, stepping between her thighs, pressing the hard line of my cock against her core through our clothes.
She rolls her hips into me shamelessly, and the friction drags a ragged curse from my lips.
I bite her bottom lip then soothe it with my tongue before plunging back in. My bandaged hand grips her hip bruisingly, holding her exactly where I need her as I grind against her again until I feel her shudder.
I can’t wait anymore.
My good hand slides down her body, hooks into the waistband of her leggings, and I rip. The fabric tears and I yank what’s left down her thighs.
I shove my jeans open just enough, free myself, and line up with her pussy. She’s already slick and dripping for me...
“Look at me,” I growl against her lips.
Her eyes lock on mine and I thrust into her in one brutal stroke.
She cries out, back bowing off the table, nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to bruise. I don’t give her time to adjust. I pull back and slam home again, deeper, setting a punishing rhythm that has the table creaking beneath us.
“Fuck, Mara—” I groan.
Her legs wrap around my waist, heels digging into my back. I oblige, pounding into her with everything I have.
She comes first, sudden and violent, walls pulsing around me as she bites down on my shoulder to muffle her scream. The pain and pleasure mix, shoving me over the edge, and I follow her with a guttural curse, spilling deep inside her.
My forehead rests against hers, both of us slick with sweat.
“You’re everything,” she whispers, voice wrecked, fingers stroking my hair.
I kiss her, slow this time.
“You’re more than the glue, Talon, you’re part of the structure. Don’t forget that,” she says against my mouth.
I nod, still buried inside her, still feeling her heartbeat around me.
“They’re going to work through this—they have to.
Because underneath all the anger and betrayal, they love each other, just like they love you.
Just like you love them.” Her fingers trace the sweat-slick line of my jaw, trembling a little as the aftershocks still ripple through her. “Just like how I love you.”
“Mara... I don’t know how to be without you.
I don’t want to know how to be without you.
You’re our home. I love you so fucking much it terrifies me.
Because loving you this hard means I finally have something real to lose.
You’re my gravity, Mara. You’re the reason I don’t float away when everything else goes to hell. I love you.”
I don’t know when in my admission I stopped talking to just her.
I want to scream at all three and tell them how I feel.
I love you all so much it’s killing me.
I love the way we fit, jagged edges and all.
I love the family we became despite every reason we shouldn’t.
I love you in a way that scares the shit out of me because it’s the first time I’ve ever felt complete.
I press my lips to hers, tasting salt from both our tears.
“I love you,” I whisper against her mouth. “All of you. And I’m not losing this. I’m not losing any of you.”