Chapter 37
Damian
Finally! I manage to pick off the last of the pink nail polish Nova painted on. I only let her do it because I ’ m hoping she lets her guard down around me. I promised Titan I would spy on Nova, and I have. Sometimes, that is at a distance, and other times, it ’ s me pretending to be one of them as they paint their nails and gossip.
I hate that Nova isn ’ t who she says she is. It ’ s going to crush Mila when she finds out, especially since Mila has clung to Nova ’ s strength so fiercely.
Ever since Dash received the photos sent from an unknown number, he ’ d demanded that one of us be near Mila at all times.
We need to let Nova act out her game to see what her end goal is. When Dash finds out, he will kill us.
Is it a risk to allow Mila to stay in the same dorm suite as Nova? Slightly, but we have a guard stationed outside the door and a camera in the living room. If Nova stepped one foot outside her room and towards Mila ’ s, the guard would intervene. That and up until a few days ago, Mila never slept alone; Dash was either with her or Mila slept at our house.
Nova’s using Mila as a tool to get closer to Titan and piss Dash off. Plus, it doesn ’ t hurt to have Nova close to Mila. She would kill someone if they tried to take her toy away. Another set of eyes can ’ t hurt, right?
I love my cousin. I would die for him. I know being Dash's wife will create a target on Mila’s back, but what Dash fails to see is that it also creates a shield. That ’ s the reason Greg wants his daughter to marry a King. We have an army to protect us.
Dash has a battle to fight, harder than anything we faced at Initiation 101. He has to stop feeding his fear and give Mila the respect she deserves.
My steps increase as I turn the corner toward the bookstore, and then my steps falter when I see Uncle Marcus smiling as Isabella hands him a bag and waves goodbye.
I feel the knife in my pocket and hear it begging me to end him.
He found me.
Titan and Dash warned me this would happen. But…no buts. I basically put a bullet in a gun and played the Russian Roulette with it.
Bang! Someone is dead.
It won ’ t be Isabella. I ’ ll…go to any length to ensure she is safe. Any measure necessary. I'm so sorry, Isabella, but I like that smile on my face; I like the warmth you created in my heart. Please understand, I don't want to go back to the numbing cold. Please.
Anders, he will help me. I just have to remain alive long enough to text him.
Marcus exits the store; his eyes lock on me with a predator ’ s glint as if he heard my footsteps from down the block. I look back at Isabella, but she ’ s just picked up her book and is reading it again. Typical—she is blind to the danger surrounding her.
“ It ’ s so rare,” Marcus states as he takes three more measured steps toward me. “ That ’ s when you say, ‘ What is rare, Uncle?’”
I hear the internal scratching of my molars as I move my eyes to look at him. “ What ’ s rare, Uncle?” I repeat. This is a game, and he has the upper hand.
“ So many things,” he mutters with disappointment. “ Firstly, that store—it ’ s so charming. Do you want to know why our world is not surrounded by charming things, Damian?” He steps closer, gripping his purchase in his hand, “ Because they force you to lower your guard. They make you feel cozy and lazy, and that ’ s when the enemy strikes. When our bellies are full, our feet are warm next to a fire, and our hearts are content with the curves of a female filling our palms.”
He wastes no time as he continues. “ But the girl, she ’ s rare too, isn ’ t she?”
“ I will—”
He holds up his hand. “ You will shut up and listen to me.” His growl rumbles like a deep drum echoing through the belly of a mountain in a Tolkien novel. “ It ’ s rare that you , of all the boys, would make such a fucking mistake.”
I assess the situation. I can ’ t take him out here; there are too many people, and I know my uncle travels with guards. If I get away from him, I can take Isabella somewhere safe, but then she will know who I am.
A panic runs through me, making my stomach twist with nausea. I feel like a little boy again, who is clinging to the edge of the bathtub, unsure if I should leave my mother and get help or listen to her and stay by her side.
What do I do! What do I do?
I look at Isabella again, wishing I had never met her. Little did she know she met her doom the day I followed her inside the shop.
“ I ’ m not going to hurt her,” Marcus says as he swings an arm over my shoulder. “ Breathe,” I ’ m so rigid my bones solidify.
“ Let ’ s go talk. The coffee shop is where you usually stalk her, isn ’ t it?”
He nudges me to move, and I follow. I always liked Marcus. Marcus is the nicest of the Kings, but that doesn ’ t speak volumes. He forced Dash to go to Initiation 101, but Uncle Marcus tried to save me from my dad.
I ’ ll never forget that.
“ Go sit, and I ’ ll get us something to drink.” He points to a table, and like a good dog, I obey. I grab my phone, and as I text my cousins, Marcus raises an brow and shakes his head in warning. I don ’ t press send, unsure if that ’ s a mistake or something that just spared Isabella.
I look across the street and spot her in the window with another customer. I mentally snap a picture of this, knowing it ’ s going to change.
Marcus joins me, sliding me a cup of steaming hot tea. Not waiting for his to cool, he takes a boiling sip, never flinching as the swallow burns his gullet.
“ What do you want?” I whisper through my teeth so sharply that it cuts my words into wicked tendrils, but Marcus doesn ’ t bat an eye at my tone.
“ I came to see where Mila donates all her art to. Such a thoughtful gesture, and she ’ s so talented she could sell her art for thousands.”
I swallow hard in warning. Get to the point, uncle!
“ She ’ s lovely too.” He nudges his head toward the bookstore. “ I can see your appeal to her. A friendly smile is so rare in our world.” He looks at me with pity. “ But it can never be.” His tone dips as if he cares to deliver his blow with tender, gentle care. The wrinkles around his eyes soften. “ She ’ s a nobody and your future is already etched in stone. The price of marrying someone who wasn ’ t supposed to be yours can be more than blood, sweat, and tears, Damian. Trust me, I know. Leave her alone.”
“ Touch her, and I ’ ll kill you, blood or not!” I hiss in a low whisper that is hot enough to burn.
“ I wouldn ’ t kill an innocent,” he coughs, “ intentionally.”
He sits back in his chair and rubs the back of his neck. “ You ’ re not going to drop it, are you? You ’ re risking her life.”
“ Says the man threatening it.”
“ A warning isn ’ t always a veiled threat. Sometimes, it ’ s compassion laced with concern.”
“ What do you want?”
He looks over his shoulder at the wall and then mumbles, “ Nothing is as it seems, Damian. Everything is a twisted lie folded into layers of the truth.” His eyes blister with… anxiety, fear, regret, a pleading notion as they sharply pivot to mine. “ You ’ re starting to wonder the same thing, are you not? Titan is, too. Dash already started to realize that there is always a higher power. Always. One of the scariest thoughts a man can ponder is who created God? It ’ s a ladder you endlessly climb; who is more powerful? Who controls who? Who, who, who?”
“ There is always a peak at every mountain, Uncle. Sometimes it ’ s just that. One peak, one mountain, and everyone beneath you.”
Marcus smirks and nods, as if amused.
“ But who created the mountain, Damian?”
“ You make no sense. Is old age getting to you, Uncle?” I reply, but I pocket his every word.
“ Titan asked you to look into Mila ’ s roommate, didn ’ t he?”
How does he know that? Titan and I were alone that day in the woods. Dash doesn ’ t even know Titan asked me that.
“ What does this have to do with Nova?”
“ Nothing, everything, and then nothing at all. I didn ’ t come here to talk about Nova, and if you ’ re smart, you will not mention this conversation to your cousins at all. If they find out I talked to you, they will kill us both.” He taps the bag he placed on the table, making the plastic crinkle.
“ You ’ re using Isabella as a cover,” I mutter, finally understanding. Someone is watching my uncle. Dash was right; he was being controlled. “ You staged this to look like you ’ re having an intervention with me, persuading me to stop seeing Isabella, but it ’ s a lie.” You wanted me alone so you could tell me about who is controlling you!
“ No, that part is truth. You need to leave the girl alone.”
“ Who ’ s controlling you?” I lean closer. He clears his throat, forcing me to lean back and act only mildly irritated.
“ I can ’ t tell you that.” He looks down at the book in the bag. “ If I figured it out, then your father will.”
“ And who should I fear more, my father or whoever is controlling you?”
“ Your father.” He replies without hesitation.
“ So stop him!” I challenge him.
Marcus closes his eyes, and suddenly, he looks ten years older. As a boy, he was a mountain in front of me, tall and daunting, but even mountains can crumble. Time spares no one. “ I can ’ t. He ’ s my brother. He saved me and protected Kate.”Marcus admits in a hushed tone.
“ He might have saved you and my aunt, but what about me ? What would Aunt Kate think of how you ’ ve let my dad shape me?”
“ You don ’ t understand. Our actions are not up to us.”
“ It ’ s up to these mysterious people controlling you?”
He looks me in the eye without answering.
“ Will they hurt Isabella?” Tell me who they are. Tell me, tell me!
His forehead wrinkles, “ They haven ’ t yet.”
“ Fine. I heard you. I ’ ll leave her alone.” I play along.
He holds my stare, then exhales the weight of the world before taking a slow drink of his tea. “ I ’ ll try to keep your father away.” He whispers.
“ And what do you want in return?”
His lips tug up. “ We raised you well.”
“ You didn ’ t raise me.” I cross my arms because if I don ’ t trap my fists, they will break his bones. “ You trained me, and yes, there is a difference.”
“ I tried.” He replies in disappointment. I know, but you failed to save me from my father.
His chest rises as he inhales, “ I know someone is sending Dash images of Mila, provoking him.”
“ How do you know that?” I narrow my eyes. “ Is it you?”
“ No.”
“ Is it the people controlling you?”
“ No.”
I lean back in my chair and widen my legs. “ Why can ’ t you tell me who it is?”
“ It ’ s not time.”
“ When will it be time?” I grunt.
He looks away as if a new horizon is shining and has caught his attention. “ Soon,” he mumbles as he quickly glances over his shoulder. “ We don ’ t really have much time. One minute, you ’ re ruling the world, and the next, you ’ re taking your last breath,” he snorts as his lips tug up in a melancholy smirk. “ I need you to convince Dash not to go after who is sending him the photos of Mila.”
I tilt my head. “ You ’ re speaking in riddles, Uncle. Why would I do that?”
Dash has gone insane trying to trace the unknown number, to no avail. All our leads connected it back to a burner phone paid for in cash. The store had no cameras, so we never got to see who bought the phone.
Marcus licks his lips, nervous again. Every hair on my body is standing up. “ Because it ’ s not Dash ’ s problem. It ’ s a trap. One of our enemies wants to capture Dash in exchange for Titan. Dash won ’ t listen to me, so I ’ m asking you to tell Titan to look into it. Please don ’ t let Dash follow the trail.” He implores me as if Dash ’ s death is already signed, but I ’ m a deity who can undo what the fates have woven.
“ If you know who the enemy is, why can ’ t you just kill him?” I lean forward, digging my elbows into the table.
Marcus looks down, his voice barely audible as he whispers, “ Because it ’ s not my Rite to pass.”
I tilt my head, leaning so close that the table digs into my stomach. “ Your what?” Rite? Like a ritual?
Marcus's throat rolls like dumbbells at a gym thrown onto a rubber mat, heavy bounces up and down until gravity wins, and he speaks again. “ I ’ ve said too much. You ask me to say more, and they will kill us both.”
“ The enemy?” Who are you so scared of, Uncle?
He shakes his head. “ No, the people pulling our strings. Damian, this is a game, and you need to wake up and realize they are not playing. They are sitting back and watching us. Judging. Do. Not. Fail. Or all of you, your cousins, that girl, everyone you love is dead.” He straightens his spine. "Tell Dash to let Titan handle this.”
“ You ’ re asking me to lie?”
“ I ’ m asking you to keep him safe!” he snaps, a vein in his neck bulging. “Tell Titan to look into it.” He repeats as he raises the tea, speaking into the cup, “ I ’ m trying to help you.” He whispers, his eyes looking around the coffee shop like someone is spying on us.
The barista is busy making another coffee, her head down, eyes focused. Is it her? Or is it the table of two older women eating the freshly baked cookies that they disgustingly dunk into their cold coffee?
“ And kill Titan in return?” How can he pick and choose who lives and dies?
“ Titan is stronger than you think.” Marcus looks back at Isabella again. “I know we haven ’ t been good fathers, but I need you to know it wasn ’ t something we wanted to do.” He looks me in the eye. “ It wasn ’ t something I wanted. I wanted to love you boys.”
“ So why didn ’ t you?”
“ Because you ’ d fight for us. ’ His voice is so thick with a pained exhale that it manages to tug at my heart. This isn ’ t a trick; it ’ s a confession, a last attempt. “ You ’ d try to change the outcome. You can ’ t fight them because one day, we need you to become them.”
“ The people controlling you?”
He just shrugs.
“ What outcome are you referring to?”
“ You can ’ t know yet. I can ’ t allow you to change it. The end is written, Damian. I need you to accept it like I have. I ’ m ready for what ’ s to come. I need to know you will help Dash when he faces it, too.”
“ We ’ ve had enough of your mind games!”
“ I know.” He reaches across the table for my hand. “ I ’ m proud of you, boys. I wish I could tell Dash that. He ’ d never believe it, but I am. You survived and endured more than we thought you could. You paid for all our sins.”
He stands and grabs my shoulder. “ Thank you.” Then he leans down and hugs me as if this is a final goodbye.
“ I ’ ll see you at dinner tonight.” He squeezes my shoulder too tightly.
I almost grasp his hand back, but I don ’ t. I just watch him walk away, leaving me alone at the table with the book he bought. With shaking fingers, I grab the bag and pull the book out to see what he bought.
Greek Myths. Each chapter is a story, one I ’ ve heard time and time again—tragic tales of heroes who didn ’ t pay attention to the details.