Chapter 31 Rion
RION
My heart races as I stare at the steel door, embracing the familiar weight of my axe in my right hand.
Of all the people in our small group, I would never have expected Kael to be the most prepared.
I was stunned when he had a spare set of clothes for Elodie, but when he handed me my favorite weapon of choice, all I could do was blink at him as I muttered my thanks.
What's even more insane is how needed it is in this moment.
Twisting the axe in my hand, I try to take a few more steadying breaths, desperate to take all the emotion out of my stance, but it's impossible when the entire thing is formed by just the feelings inside of me. And none of them are good.
Exhaling, I shake out my shoulders and reach for the door, but before I can slip the key into the lock, Ocean darts in front of me, eyes wide as she nips at her bottom lip.
I’m instantly reminded that I’m not alone in the small space.
Far from it.
Elodie, Rion, Kael, and Ocean insisted on staying with me instead of taking the offer to find somewhere to rest, and it’s not lost on me that those actions are examples of a strong pack.
After living my life under the horrors of the Strachan Pack, to find myself in far superior company, to know what it feels like to have a pack I can rely on, it feels almost expected that it’s not actually wolves that surround me.
Even now, I feel the essence of family around me, except it’s the annoying little sister I never asked for. Only the tightness in her frame and the flash of panic in her eyes make my eyebrows knit in confusion.
“Ocean?” Elodie murmurs, blinking at her friend with uncertainty as she remains plastered to my left side, while Kael and Thorne stare expectantly, just as bewildered by her sudden movement as Elodie and I.
Ocean folds her arms over her chest as she clears her throat, forcing herself to stand taller.
“Are you going to kill him?” she asks, and I blink at her, unsure what it is she wants me to say, but we both know the answer is yes.
When I don’t immediately answer, her gaze dips for a beat before she exhales, slowly dragging her eyes around the room nervously before settling back on me.
“I need to know. Because if you don't, I kind of have to,” she states, making my head rear back in surprise.
The first thing I acknowledge is that what I thought was obvious is clearly not. The second thing, and more importantly, why is she saying that?
“Why?” I rasp, needles ripping through my throat as I try to speak, and she shakes her head.
“So many reasons,” she mumbles, avoiding my gaze, and I grunt.
“I’m definitely going to need more than that,” I push as Elodie places her hand on Ocean’s shoulder in comfort.
The sister I never wanted leans into Elodie, taking strength from her as she inhales slowly. It’s the longest five seconds of my life before she brings her eyes back to mine, all while my pulse thunders in my chest.
“I was sentenced to Institute Thirteen for killing someone,” she states, and Kael scoffs.
“We all were.”
I roll my eyes as Ocean glares at him through narrowed eyes, but she doesn’t acknowledge him with words as she sighs. “That someone was a member of the Strachan Pack,” she rasps, and my spine stiffens.
“What?” I blurt, my eyes wide with panic as Elodie’s gasp echoes around us.
“You heard me, but that’s not the worst part,” she admits, exhaling with a heavy puff. “I’m talking to you about this because I kind of consider you my second bestie, after Elodie, of course,” she starts, and I muster a small grin.
“I knew it,” I say with a wink, but the usual laugh I expect from her doesn't come. Her eyes gloss over instead.
“Your father caught me after I killed the guy, and he… well, he’s the reason I once took that same potion I gave to Elodie in her bid to run,” she admits, and understanding washes over me.
I know what potion she's talking about.
The one that had Elodie rushed to the medical center in an attempt to leave.
“I’m sorry, Ocean,” Elodie whispers, and she shakes her head, a heaviness weighing on her shoulders.
“It didn't work how I wanted,” she breathes. “That's when I learned the effects weren't everlasting, as I had hoped.”
Elodie pulls her into her arms in a tight embrace as I exhale slowly, giving them a moment as Kael and Thorne remain silent but angry to my right. I work my jaw as I wait for her eyes to find mine again.
I inch a little closer, making sure her eyes are set on mine before I speak. “I vow it, Ocean. I'll bring you his head.”
Anger courses through my veins as I reach for the door handle, and nobody stops me this time. I make quick work of stepping into the small passageway that holds six steel doors positioned closely together.
There’s only one thing waiting on the other side of them.
Prison cells.
I hear the lock click behind me, confirming I'm alone, and I let the isolation fuel me as I trudge to the first cell on the left, just as Kael’s mother instructed.
I appreciate the fact that no one has insisted on joining me in here. It's bad enough that Ocean has seen him. I refuse for Elodie to lay eyes on the motherfucker that I have the unfortunate reality of calling my father. He reflects where I came from, and I’m no longer that person.
My mind threatens to drift down memory lane, but that’s the last thing I need.
Not now.
Not today.
Not ever again.
Rolling my shoulders, I settle my attention back on the space before me. It's strange how you envision prison cells to just be bars, but in here, they're even more confined. The only bars visible are those wedged into a small square frame that acts as a window between the two spaces.
I don’t move a step toward him without dipping my free hand into my pocket, feeling the weight of the key Kael’s mother gave me.
She didn’t even bat an eyelid when I proclaimed what I wanted, and I’m sure my intentions were clear in my eyes.
If anything, I saw a burning flicker of appreciation in her gaze as she placed the small, intricately cut metal in my palm.
Spinning it in my hand, the world freezes as I aim it at the lock awaiting its missing piece.
The brush of metal on metal vibrates through my bones as it clicks into place, and I exhale, my breath rushing from my lungs before the creak of the key turning echoes through the area.
Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I waste no time stepping inside and closing the door behind me.
The space is just as sparse as it is outside.
Four plain walls, each with the same damp brick.
There's no window, and the only door is firmly behind me.
All it has to offer in here is a flimsy camp bed and a toilet in the corner, with a small light fixed to the ceiling, casting a dull glow over the small area.
The figure in the room is seated on the camp bed, feet planted against the ground with his arms resting on his knees.
He’s hunched over, but there’s no whisper of fear in his composure.
It’s almost… boredom. He doesn’t bother to lift his head as I fill the space, no urgency to check on what I’m assuming is an unexpected visitor, but the tension is palpable.
It’s almost as if he’s downplaying the strength that we both know he has.
When I don’t move, he sighs, tilting his face to turn my way, looking up at me through his lashes.
My breath stutters at the sight of his features.
His eyes are a deep, rich brown, his face holding no weight, making them look far more sunken than I remember, while his nostrils flare in the exact same way they always have.
He frowns in confusion, sitting up a little straighter as he sneers. “Do I know you?” he grunts, and I snicker, the sound hollow.
“You're going to wish you didn’t.”
It’s a promise, but he doesn’t see the threat as he rolls his eyes, his lip curling in a sneer.
“I already had my torture this week. Fuck off,” he bites, and I remain in the exact spot, staring him down as my grip tightens on my axe.
If he sees it, he doesn’t mention it, and when I don’t speak a word, he scoffs.
“And they promised me no roommate. So if they think you're moving in here, they're wrong.” He shakes his head, slapping his hands on his thighs, and I grin.
“Don't worry, the place will be empty soon enough.”
I consider dragging this out, giving him an extra dose of torture like he deserves, but my body moves before I can make my decision, eliminating the distance between us in two strides.
Anger takes hold of me as I lift my axe, the sharp edge of the blades touching his chin as I tilt his head up, and his soulless eyes meet mine.
“You think death scares me, boy?”
I huff. “Feeling scared would require having a soul, and we both know you don't have one of those.” I watch, my heart racing as I spy the flicker of recognition wash over his face.
His pupils blow wide before slowly deflating until they are two little pin pricks. He doesn’t move an inch as what feels like an eternity passes us by before he manages to speak again.
“Orion,” he rasps, and I snarl.
“It's just Rion,” I hiss, adding a little extra pressure to the axe, but he doesn’t fight it.
Instead, he gives me that look, one of unchartered swagger topped with an air of superiority.
Two things he once had in waves, but now he’s confined to these four walls with none.
No matter how much he tries to muster it.
The reminder of the version of him that’s haunted me for far too long is the lighter fluid I needed to show him who he’s dealing with, because it’s not the same version of me he’s presented with.
“Look at you,” I say with a smile, unable to imagine how manic I look. “And now look at me; the monster you always wanted me to be. Any last words?”
He looks behind me to the door as if aid is coming, but he must surely realize that if I'm in here, with the goddamn key, then no one is hurrying to save him.
Hyper vigilant, I watch every inch of him, from the way beads gather at his temples, to the jerk of his Adam’s apple as it bobs against the blade of my axe.
His tongue slips out, dragging across his lips before he speaks. “You won't harm me.”
It’s amazing how confident he is. How sure he is that I’m not brave enough, strong enough, manic enough. I wasn’t then, but I am now.
Yet he doesn’t deserve to see that in me. I tilt my head to the side, my smile broadening as my knuckles turn white around the handle. “You’re right,” I rasp, eyes burning, they're so wide, and he grins. “Harming you indicates that you’ll get to feel the pain. Death, however…”
I slam my weight against the axe, the action sudden and forceful, until the tip of the crimson-stained iron hits the wall behind him. His throat shatters at the connection, his head falling limp to the side as blood gushes everywhere, like a crumbling dam.
My pulse races wildly in my chest, but otherwise, I feel calm and content. I’m more intrigued by the way his head sits slanted, precariously balanced on my axe.
I twist my fingers in his hair, confirming the separation as I bring his head to my side, watching his lifeless body fall limp.
Satisfied, I take a deep breath.
Just like that, he’s gone. No torture, no words of dismay or wringing out all the pain he cause me. I didn't need any of that. I just needed his head in my hand. That’s my kind of closure.
With a wry smile playing at the corner of my mouth, I turn for the door, unlocking it while balancing my axe and the head, but I don’t bother to relock it in my absence. Instead, I stride toward the door where my chosen pack awaits.
I rap my knuckles three times against the wood, and the turn of the lock ricochets around me until the door opens, revealing all four of them, but it’s Ocean at the front. Her eyes rake over me, likely acknowledging the splatters of blood I feel before I lift my hand, revealing her prize.
“His head,” I grunt, and she smiles as manically as I feel, reaching out to take it from me like the psychotic witch that she is.
“You just made joint first best friend status, big bad wolf.”