CHAPTER 16 SIBLING RIVALRY
During his time alone, before he brought his father here, Byrne had transformed the underground level of the abandoned machine factory into his own private sanctum.
The damp concrete walls sweated with decades of industrial grime, but he'd made it his—a place his father knew nothing about, where he brought the hollow-eyed boys he plucked from bus stations and alleyways—forgotten children with dirty fingernails and unwashed hair.
Disposable companions to ease his loneliness until his father arrived, and together they could finish what should have been dealt with years ago.
Byrne's footsteps echoed as he entered his makeshift living quarters, the pale fluorescent bulb buzzing overhead like trapped insects.
A metal desk with chipped green paint occupied one corner, flanked by two mismatched office chairs.
Against the far wall sat a military-style cot with neatly tucked wool blankets.
The mini fridge hummed in another corner; its white surface yellowed with age.
The electric heater glowed orange, pushing back the perpetual chill of being eight feet underground.
Byrne lowered himself into his chair, the springs protesting beneath his weight as he swiveled to face the final item that completed his grotesque home: the large cedar crate, its lid secured with a single heavy-duty padlock.
Leaning forward, Byrne rested his elbows on his knees, the worn fabric of his jeans stretching taut across his thighs as he exhaled a sigh that reeked of stale coffee.
“I know I've been neglecting you these last few days, but it's almost over. Then you will have my full, undivided attention once again.” He stood, joints cracking a bit, and walked to the crate.
He squatted down, his calloused hands splayed across his knees for balance.
He pressed his mouth against the wooden box, feeling the coarse splinters catch on his chapped lips.
The rich scent of cedar filled his nostrils, mingling with the musty undertone of what lay inside.
“Won't you like that? I know you must miss me.” His lips curled into a smile that never reached his emotionless eyes as he patted the top of the crate, the hollow thud echoing in the cramped space.
“It won't be long now, I promise. We'll have story time afterward, and I'll tell you all about it.”
Byrne grabbed a beer from the mini fridge, the aluminum can slick with condensation, and walked to the door of his small living quarters.
The door hinges squealed as he pushed it open, foam hissing over his knuckles as he popped the tab on the beer can.
He took a long pull, Adam's apple bobbing, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he surveyed the outer sanctum.
Three pairs of sunken eyes stared back at him from behind rusted metal bars, pupils dilated with terror, dirty faces streaked with dried tears.
“No worries, my lovelies,” he murmured, voice honeyed yet somehow devoid of warmth.
He rubbed his crotch and grinned. “I haven't forgotten about you, either.” He finished off his beer, crushed the can, and tossed it aside with a hollow clack against the cement floor. “But first, I have important business to take care of.” He winked at the terrified boys, thoroughly used but not entirely worn out. Another brutal fuck each, and then he would butcher them. “I’ll be back soon. Then we’ll have a fucking good time together. ”
Byrne left the lower floor and returned to ground level, then made his way through the vast factory to the makeshift office his father had claimed for his own.
The man stood outside the office in the corridor, talking on the phone, his back to Byrne, who paused and listened.
His father was giving instructions to Henry.
“What’re you doing?” Byrne asked stiffly when the call ended.
Daniel turned around as he put his phone away. “Excuse me?”
Byrne stood in the dark, grimy corridor a few feet from his dad. “Henry isn’t going to turn. You tried to turn him for almost two years, and what happened? He slit your throat and ran off.”
“He was a kid,” Daniel said. “I pushed him too fast. That was my mistake.”
“I was a kid, too. It didn’t bother me.”
“You were a different kind of kid. Henry was more… sensitive. I should have eased him into it. But he’s an adult now. He can handle it.”
Byrne shook his head. “You’re delusional. I told you the truth about Henry years ago, but you refused to believe it.”
Daniel’s face twitched, eyes narrowing. “Because it was a lie.”
“You sure?” Byrne murmured with a slight mocking tone. “Because I’m not.”
Daniel huffed. “You’ve always hated Henry; of course, you want it to be true. But you’re wrong, and I will prove it.” He flicked his hand. “Go. Bring him to me.”
Byrne didn’t budge. “And if he can’t be turned?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Daniel said. “But there won’t be any bridge. Henry just needs the proper motivation to unleash his true nature, and once he does… There will be no going back.”
Staring at his old man, Byrne shook his head slowly but didn’t bother trying to reason with the bastard. His mind was made up. But he would see the truth soon enough; Henry was not a killer… but he would kill to save his friends. Byrne believed that, and he would be ready, even if his dad wasn’t.
Cole took his own car from the hospital and navigated the maze of backstreets through the city’s slums. Guilt and doubt twisted in his stomach; he wanted to tell Dane and Devlin where he was headed, but knew they would try to stop him.
Still, he had to go. The Mangler needed something from him, and if Cole could convince him he would get it, maybe he’d free Gabe and the kids.
It was a long shot—probably a foolish move—but they were out of options.
If he didn’t bring Maddy and Savannah home…
Abel and Angel would not come back to them.
And without Gabe, their family would crumble.
Cole would crumble. He would sacrifice himself in whatever manner necessary to save his loved ones.
It would be hard for them to move on without him, but they would have each other to lean on.
Gabe would find someone else in time. Maybe that someone would be Tomas.
Having someone to look after and protect would help him move forward.
The dark backstreets blurred in the headlights, and Cole brushed his arm across his eyes.
He couldn’t allow himself to think about what lay ahead.
This nightmare revolved around him, and only he could make it stop.
He was sure he wouldn’t make it out alive.
And he was trying to make peace with that reality.
But to save Gabe and the kids, he would give his life a thousand times over.
Cole turned off the street and pulled into an old parking lot of a long-dead “Mom & Pop” diner. Weeds and grass pushed up through the cracked pavement, and the boarded-up building was being overtaken by bramble brush and stick weeds.
Parking near the old diner, Cole got out of the car and locked the door. It wouldn’t stop vandals, but the fate of his vehicle was the least of his worries. He sat on the hood and waited, the smell of stale garbage and a briny scent of abandonment thick in the chilly air.
He didn't wait long before a car drove into the lot, driven by Deputy Roland. Cole remained in his spot, watching the driver intently. Roland parked the vehicle and stepped out. The expression Cole gave him was not that of an old friend.
Roland smiled small. “So, you figured it out.”
“That you were never my friend?” Cole murmured. “Yeah.”
“What tipped you off?”
Cole’s eyes darted to the man’s wrist.
“Should’ve known.” Roland pulled up his jacket sleeve and fingered the bracelet. “Guess I should have hidden it better.”
Cole looked away, running his hand through his hair, a sick weight settling in his gut. “When did you take it from him?”
“Right after the old man grabbed him.”
“Why?” Cole whispered.
“Why what?”
“Why did you take it?”
“Because it was special,” the deputy said. “To him, and you.”
Cole sniffed and cleared his throat, his voice unsteady as he asked, “Is that when you killed him?”
“I never said I killed him.”
“My… dad killed him?”
“Didn’t say that, either.”
What did you do to him? Cole couldn’t say the words. He didn’t want to know the nightmare Ezra went through during his last days.
“He didn’t die right away,” Roland said, as if reading Cole’s thoughts and taking sick pleasure in giving him the details. “We kept him around for a while.”
“The cell… underground…” Cole whispered sickly. “Is that where you kept him?”
“Yes. I didn’t lie about that.”
Recalling their previous conversation about Ezra, Cole trembled. “You kept him locked down there… for two years?”
“Yes.”
Cole hung his head and pressed his hand to his eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Roland murmured. “He wasn’t lonely. The two of us… We got to know each other quite… intimately.”
Cole looked up, horror etching his face. “You…” he couldn’t say the word and breathe life into it. But Roland did it for him.
“Raped him?” He smiled. “Yes. I know you and Ezra hadn’t gotten around to doing the deed yet, but I tell ya… he was a great fuck. A real fighter, which made it even better. For most of those two years, I fucked him every day. Sometimes, a few times a day.”
Cole lowered his head and laced his fingers behind his neck. “Why?” he choked. “Why Ezra?”
The deputy walked closer. “Because you loved him. He was yours, so I took him. The way you took from me.”
“What?” Cole raised his head, tears in his eyes. “What the fuck did I take from you?” he cried. “What’re you talking about?”
“Everything!” Roland snapped back, startling Cole. “You took my life. You took my dad. It was just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be… until your fucking mother.”
“What… I don’t…” Cole swallowed. “Who are you?”