23. Fragile but real.
Chapter twenty-three
Fragile but real...
Nick
T he concrete steps bit into Nick’s back through his torn shirt, but he didn’t move.
Dawn painted the sky in soft oranges and pinks above the trailer, the kind of peaceful sunrise that felt like a lie after what his mind dragged him through.
His eyes were probably still red and swollen from crying like a broken child in front of everyone.
That particular memory doesn’t usually surface, he thought, tugging absently at his torn collar.
The brand underneath felt like itwasburning again, phantom pain from a wound two years healed.
The hunter always made that one seem smaller.
Less important than escape routes or weapon caches or kill orders.
The trailer door creaked open behind him.
Nick tensed, ready to deflect concern or questions, but Caleb just settled beside him on the steps without a word.
His little brother—though not so little anymore, Nick realized.
Caleb’s shouldershadfilledout, and something in his posture spoke of a confidence Nick didn’t remember.
They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. Nick could feel Caleb glancing at him, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. The quiet stretched between them, not quite comfortable but not hostile either. More like... uncertain.
“So,”Caleb finally said, his voice carrying an artificial brightness that made Nick wince internally.“I got my driver’s license.”He pulled out his wallet and produced the plastic card, holding it like an offering.“Three weeks ago.”
Nick stared at the small rectangle, unsure how to respond. The photo showed Caleb smiling—genuinely smiling, not the worried expression Nick remembered from before everything went to hell.“Oh. That’s...”He cleared his throat.“That’s good. Really good.”
Caleb tucked the license back into his wallet.“Ophelia taught me. She’s, um, she’s terrible at it, but she’s patient.”He gave a nervous laugh.“Marcus got me one of those cars with all the safety features. I thought... I mean, after the accident...”
“You always said you’d never drive,” Nick said.
“Yeah, well.”Caleb shrugged, suddenly looking younger.“Things change, I guess.”
Another silence. Nick pressed his hand against the hidden brand, hyper-aware of its presence. He should say something. Ask about Caleb’s life, or explain wherehe’dbeen, or apologize for—everything. But the words felt stuck.
“Are you...”Caleb started, then stopped. He tried again,“How are you doing? I mean, obviously you’re not great right now, but...”
“I’m alive,”Nick said, which felt like the only honest answer he could give.
“That’s something.”
“Yeah.”
They watched a bird hop around in the nearby grass, both of them following its progress like itcould somehow help clear up five years’ worth of questions neither of them knew how to ask.
“I should have looked for you,”Caleb said, breaking first.“When you disappeared. I should have tried harder.”
Nick’s fingers found the edge of his torn collar.“I didn’t want to be found. Iwas...”The admission felt like swallowing glass.“Pills first. Then heroin. Then Chicago. Not exactly the kind of places you leave forwarding addresses.”
Calebwasquiet for a long moment.“I just... I wish you could have been there for Mom’s funeral service. Not because youhadto be, just... because you would have wanted to say goodbye.”
Nick pressed his palms against his eyes. Another conversation he didn’t know how to have.“I would have. IfI’dbeen...”He gestured vaguely at himself.
“I know.”
More silence. A car drove down the road visible from where he sat, and Nick automatically tracked its movement, cataloging potential threats before catching himself. Old habits.
“Can I ask you something? About when—”Caleb began, fidgeting with his sleeves,“at the warehouse. When they... when Henderson...”
Nick’s stomach dropped. “Caleb—”
“I don’t understand it. What happened to you. But I saw your face when youwereholding my head, and itwasn’t...itwasn’treally you,wasit?”
Nick wanted to disappear into the concrete steps.
“It’s complicated. I have these... different parts of my brain that take over depending on how safe I feel.
The hunter part, it’s all tactics and missions.
It doesn’t really care about people, just staying alive.
And there’s another part that learned how to survive by being.
..”He swallowed hard.“Compliant. Good. Whatever kept me breathing.”
“Like multiple personalities?”
“No. No, they’re all me. Just different survival mechanisms.” Nick rubbed his face.“But that doesn’t excuse what I did. I held you down while they hurt you. I can’t... I don’t know how to apologize for that.”
Calebwasquiet for so long Nick thought hewasn’tgoing to respond. When he spoke, his voicewascareful.“You mentioned Chicago. And that vampire who...”He gestured toward Nick’s chest, where the brandwashidden. “What happened to you there?”
Nick’s hand moved to cover the concealed mark.“Two years. He kept me in... a small space. Like a box.”The words came out mechanical, clinical.“Every time I tried to escape,he’d...”Nick stared at where his damaged handhadonce been.“Take something. As a lesson.”
“The fingers,” Caleb said. “Before Marcus–”
“Among other things.”Nick’s voice went flatter.“Hehadrules. If I followed them, thingswere... easier. If I didn’t, there were consequences.”
Caleb’s face blanched.“What kind of rules?”
“Don’t fight back. Don’t try to leave. Say the right words when he wanted to hear them.”Nick’s hand tightened over the brand’s location.“He liked to... carve things. Into skin. Words. Reminders of who I belonged to.”
“Jesus, Nick.”Caleb’s hands twisted together.“Did he... I mean,wereyou...?”He stopped, swallowed hard, started again. “Werethere other things? Besides the physical torture?”
Nick could see Caleb struggling with the question, could see him wanting to ask directly, but being terrified of the answer. The careful way he phrased it, the way his voice dropped to almost a whisper—he knew. Or suspected.
“Yeah,”Nick said simply, not making Caleb voice what they both knew hewasasking. “There were other things.”
Caleb closed his eyes, like the confirmation wasphysically painful. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”Nick’s voice came out sharper than he intended.“Don’t apologize for things thatweren’tyour fault.”
They sat in heavy silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Caleb kept glancing at Nick like he wanted to say something comforting but didn’t know what words could possibly help.
“The Society found me,”Nick continued, needing to fill the quiet.“The leader, Shaw, saidthey’dbeen tracking him. That Iwaslucky they got there when they did.”His laugh was bitter. “Funny thing about luck.”
“They helped you?”
“They cleaned me up. Got me medical attention. Taught me how to fight.”Nick’s voice grew distant.“But they also taught me that what happened to mewasnormal. That all vampires are like that. That the only way to make sure it never happened to anyone elsewasto kill them all.”
“But Luka isn’t like that.”
“No.”Nick softened.“He’s not. And Marcus isn’t either, is he?”
Caleb shook his head.“Marcus would never... he asks permission for everything. Even little things. He’s careful with me.”
“Good.” Nick meant it. “You deserve that.”
More quiet.
This is ridiculous, I should be able to have a conversation with my brother.
“Tell me about Marcus,”Nick said eventually, because he needed to fill the quiet with something lighter.“Is he...?”The question felt too big to finish.
Caleb’s face brightened.“He’s good to me. Really good. He gets excited about superhero movies and brags about his daughter constantly, even though she’s terrifying sometimes.”His voice grew softer.“He makes me coffee every morning exactly how I like it.”
A soft whistle drifted from inside the trailer—a clear C note with a rising intonation. Nick responded with a steady C: I’m okay.
Caleb blinked. “What was that?”
Heat flooded Nick’s face. He didn’t intend to respond so automatically.“It’s... we have signals. When we can’t talk. Hewaschecking if I’m okay.”
“Oh.”Caleb studied his expression with growing understanding.“You care about him.”
Nick’s blush deepened.“I... yeah. I do.”
“Good.”Caleb’s voicewasfirm, but gentle.“You deserve that, too. Good things, I mean.”
Before he could think better of it, he reached over and awkwardly patted Caleb’s shoulder. His brother leaned into the contact, and they sat like that for a moment—not quite hugging, but connected.
“I love you,”Nick said, the words feeling rusty from disuse.“I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I love you too,”Caleb whispered back. “And I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”
When they pulled apart, bothwerecrying a little. Caleb wiped his eyes and glanced toward the trailer door.“Marcus is probably wearing a groove in the floor by now. He gets anxious when he can’t check on people.”
“Luka too, probably.”Nick stood and offered Caleb his hand.“Should we...?”
“Yeah. Before they both pace themselves into the ground.”
As they walked toward the door together, Nick felt something fragile but real growing between them. Not the easy bondthey’dhadas children—thatwasgone, broken by time and trauma. But maybe something new could grow in its place, built on who theywerenow, not who they used to be.
The door opened before they reached it, revealing Marcus and Luka standing close together, both looking likethey’dbeen having an intense conversation. Marcus’s amber eyes found Caleb, relief evident on his angular features.
“Everything okay?”Marcus asked, though his gaze included Nick in the question.
“Getting there,” Caleb said.
Luka’s green eyes met Nick’s, asking the same question silently. Nick managed a small nod, and some of the tension left Luka’s shoulders.
“Good,”Marcus said.“Because we need to talk. All of us.”His expression grew serious.“About Chicago. About the vampire who branded you. And about why we know who he is.”