Chapter 28. #3
Christian stiffens beneath me. His energy seizes and I feel his pulse start to race. His breath stutters and I scowl, irritated by the intruder.
“Reuben!” Aster’s voice actually sounds desperate. Frightened.
I'm the only one who knows it’s a practiced performance.
When he runs through the door, three men are there beside him, guns at the ready. I stand to position myself in front of Christian, but he grabs my wrist tightly, afraid, and Aster's eyes narrow.
“Reuben, get away from him.” His gun is trained on Christian, his expression unwelcoming, and my irritation is hot beneath my skin.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I snap.
“He’s not who you think he is,” Aster instructs me calmly. “He’s a fraud.”
I hear when Christian stops breathing behind me. When he becomes paralyzed.
‘I took someone's place.’
Baby…
What did you do?
Christian releases my wrist slowly, as though it takes every bit of his will. Every bit of his bravery.
I don't move.
Energies never lie.
I've watched Christian for months.
I know more about him than I think even he does about himself.
I've watched him convince himself he doesn't deserve anything… but his energy has always been honest and pure and beautiful.
It's the reason I fell in love with him.
“I know exactly who he is.” My eyes narrow and my next words are slow, “More than I've ever known about you, hermanote.”
For the first time in twenty-eight years, there's a ripple in Aster’s energy. An emotion that almost wants to exist but still doesn't get the chance.
He doesn't even lower the fucking gun. He glares at me, reaches into his jacket and pulls out a white envelope, which crosses the room with a skilled flick of his wrist and smacks into my chest.
I grab it before it can hit the floor, keeping one eye on Aster as I pull out the photos inside.
And when I cast my eyes over it, my pulse stutters.
Fucking hell…
“Christian’s real body is in a morgue under the Fed’s jurisdiction,” Aster’s words confirm what I'm seeing and my thoughts reel—his words bounce around in my mind.
Christian’s real body.
His real body.
I think I hear the sound of the elevator again, but I can’t tell.
Everything’s spinning.
“I'm not a fed—”
“We don't know who the fuck you are,” Aster cuts Christian off with a deathly glare.
When I look back, Christian looks desperate for the first time. He looks sorry.
And he’s not looking at Aster.
He’s looking at me.
His eyes are bright.
“I can explain it to you.”
“None of your explanations are going to stop me from killing you,” Aster promises darkly.
“I will.” One look at Christian’s emotions helps me to finally find my voice again. “So shut up and stop jumping to conclusions.”
“Reuben, he can't be trusted—”
“Where did you get these?” My eyes narrow with new suspicion. “Who gave them to you?”
Aster’s lips purse. “The attack on Kai was a decoy. Whoever it was, tried to stall us so they could steal Father’s insignia.”
Shit.
That's why they chose today.
To distract the family branches while they stole inside the mansion.
“We found these next to where it was missing,” Aster explains. “Whoever it is, wants to meet with us, and gave us that envelope as a peace offering.”
“A peace offering?” I snap. “‘I know I stole your insignia and nearly killed your kid, but here’s the rat who’s been hiding under your nose. I come in peace.’ You’re fucking joking.”
Aster suddenly doesn’t have anything to say, and I didn't think my irritation could rise any further, because I’m releasing a stream of Spanish obscenities.
“So instead of going after him,” I finally find my English, huffing, “you thought to come here and go after the man who saved Kai instead?”
“... You're my brother. If I think you're in danger I have to protect you.”
“You're not protecting me.” My scowl deepens. “You're pointing a gun at my person.”
We’re both locked in a stalemate, each of us glaring at the other, until Christian's voice cuts through the tension in the room.
“Everett killed Christian that night. Alongside the other members of the Adler Squad.”
How the fuck are you still alive? I remember Everett’s words from that night.
And I remember Christian’s response.
‘Who said anything about being alive?’
‘I’m just a spectre here to take you to hell.’
“I couldn't let him get away with it,” Christian confesses. “That's all it is. I used Christian's face... to kill him. I'm not your enemy.”
“You took his place,” Aster retorts. “To get into the family. To get close to us—”
“No,” Christian's face contorts, “no—I... couldn't handle his death. I was grieving... for the first time. I wanted to give him more. I wanted to make him great. So people would remember.”
“So you're saying you have nothing to gain from all of this?”
“Everything I did, I did for Christian.” His expression is bitter. “But... I'm tired of pretending... and you said—” he looks up at me, “you said maybe—you could accept me. I wanted to give it a try. I wanted to give us a real chance. So I ended it today... I wanted to tell you the truth.”
A lot is happening.
It's a lot.
But some things are making sense.
Why you hate your reflection.
Why you hate when I call you Christian.
Why everyone thinks you're looking for a place to die.
That's because you're not him.
It started hurting you so much you wanted it to end.
It's a lot... but none of it is a reason to go back on my promise.
I place my entire body in front of Aster’s gun.
“He's never tried to hurt me, Aster. Or the team.”
“Not yet.”
“He saved the kid today. He helped us catch the Harvester.”
“To gain our trust before stabbing us in the back.”
“Why are you so fucking pig-headed today?” I snap venomously.
“You're not fucking thinking, Reuben. The entire family was there.”
Fuck.
“They know he's a fake. They're not going to let him live. He's done. And he's confused you. Any man who lies about his identity can't be trusted.”
“I don't have an identity of my own,” Christian piques up softly. “And I'm not a man either. Everything I've said is the truth.”
“You don't have an identity?” Aster’s eyes narrow further on his words. “Is this something you do? Stealing people's identities for so long, you can't even remember yourself?”
When Christian looks at me, he looks terrified. When he gets out of the bed, I can see he’s trembling—I can see how much he cares about me. How much he wants me to know. How brave he's trying to be, to get the truth out.
When he shifts, I can only blink. His face... changes. Before my very eyes. One moment he's Christian... the next he's not.
His hair is longer. It’s become a pure white colour. Long and tangly like mine.
His body is smaller. The bandages I’d put on him are suddenly hanging off.
His face is smaller. Prettier.
But the bright blue of his eyes is the same.
The colour of his emotions is the same—that nauseating anxiety and terror and dread.
He's going to run.
I can sense it.
He's overwhelmed and afraid.
Everything's gone to shit because of Aster.
I drag a hand through my hair, because fucking, fuck fuck—
“I'm still trying... to find a face that suits me.” He's gripping his wrist so tightly I think he might actually break it.
“I've never had one.”
“Fire.” Aster’s command rings through the air. Sharp and merciless.
I dash forward, “Aster—!”
“Fire!” Aster barks.
The men in the room fire immediately.
It can’t be more than a second when Christian reaches for me, covering my body with his. Time moves slowly as he throws himself in front of me, his body growing bigger.
Until the men are emptying their guns into a big black bear.
It stands on its hind legs, shielding me. A massive creature of fur and claws and terrifying teeth.
But its energy is frustrated and angry.
Colours I’ve seen a hundred times before.
The men empty all of their bullets, but they all fall to the floor uselessly, and I’m unable to conjure a single thought when the bear looks down at me as if making sure I’m okay.
I fall on my ass purely from the shock.
“… Christian?”
The bear’s energy spikes with raw fury, and it whirls on the gunners, its furious roar piercing the room. It smacks the gun out of one of the men’s hands before roaring in his face and the man falls back on his ass with new terror.
With a fierce wave of its paw, another man flies across the room, hitting the wall with enough force to be fatal.
The bear rises on its hind legs as it approaches Aster, roaring again, and somehow I know why he’s upset.
Aster fired at me.
I could’ve been shot.
Aster doesn’t step back—which only further convinces me he’s physically unable to feel fear—or anything else for that matter—and I hear the sound of the elevator again—the sound of more men trickling into the suite.
“Christian, stop!” I scream at him, but the bear is making himself taller. He’s preparing to kill Aster.
I don’t know where I get the courage to run into his fur, throwing my arms around him.
“Christian!” I know it’s not his name now, but it’ll have to do until I find out what it is.
The bear stiffens beneath me, growling at Aster before falling back onto all fours.
Men are trickling into the room.
Among them I see familiar faces. Baal. Tobias. Gabriel.
The bear’s growl is a frightening wave across the room, but it stands firmly between me and them.
Idiota, don’t you know you’re the one in trouble?!
“Christian, run,” I step away from him to give him the space.
He looks back at me with sadness. It’s the colour he makes when he cries.
I scream at him the same moment Aster gives his order.
“RUN!”
“Fire!”
The room lights up with bullets and Christian shifts again.
Into a small black cat.
One I recognize.
Their bullets miss him and he tears off between their feet like a bat out of hell, yowling. He dashes out into the hall and the men are too slow. They weren’t expecting a cat.
I run to the living room, pushing against the crowd to make sure he gets away. Someone grabs him by the tail and it shrieks with added fury.
Before whirling around and shifting into a black hawk.
Its scream is so loud, everyone in the room has to hold their ears.
Fucking hell.
It drags its claws over the face of the man who dared to grab it before making another ear-shattering scream—flapping its wings and tearing through the window and out onto the terrace.
Without looking back—
It’s gone.
And even with a room full of men—
Not one of us can scrape together a single fucking word.