Chapter 30
CALEB
If I had to rate my current situation, it’d be a solid one out of ten.
Negative, if we’re factoring in the sadistic grandpa monologuing about how I’m a science experiment gone wrong.
“Did you really have to go full Bond villain?” I croak out, blood slicking the corner of my mouth.
Every breath is like glass scraping down my ribs. My wrists throb where the chains bite into raw skin, and my muscles scream every time I shift, like I’m peeling away from the concrete itself.
“I mean, the suit, the speech. Bit cliché, don’t you think?” My gaze flicks to his crotch, and I force a smirk—it fucking hurts. “Or are you just overcompensating?”
James chuckles, which is somehow worse than if he’d hit me. It’s cold, inhuman, like a cat toying with a mouse that’s already half-dead. And fuck do I feel half-dead. It’s equivalent to the worst hangover ever, minus the great time the night before.
“I could just let my actions speak for themselves, Caleb,” James says, pacing, the smirk on his face purely for dramatic effect. “But where’s the fun in that?”
I stare at the man in front of me, his suit now crinkled at the elbows, at the knees.
James fucking Lockhart.
Maeve’s fucking grandfather.
What kind of twisted family tree breeds this kind of monster? Who locks up their own flesh and blood and calls it love?
He blames Maeve for her mother’s death.
Right. Make that make sense. He can say what he wants about me and my fucked-up childhood, but I know the truth. My mum couldn’t bear to see my dad lay into me any longer. Only, the moment she pulled that trigger, she knew she couldn’t live without him. I was never enough for either of them.
But I’m going to be enough for Maeve. If I could just free myself . . .
I yank at the chains, a sharp jolt racing up my arms. The skin around my wrists is torn, bleeding. Fucking painful. Every muscle in my body screams from the last round of beatings Hulk One and Hulk Two dished out like it was a sport.
If James thinks I’m going down without a few more smart-arse comments, he’s sorely mistaken. Humour’s the only thing holding me together at this point. Which, frankly, says a hell of a lot about my coping mechanisms.
Or lack thereof.
I breathe through the throb in my ribs, the dull ache radiating beneath my skin like a second pulse.
“Where’s Maeve?” I say, voice cracking.
James keeps pacing, rubbing his hands together like he’s readying himself for the big finale. “I’m so glad you asked, Caleb . . .” With a nod of his head, the uglier of the two henchmen disappears from the room, the door slamming shut behind him. “She’ll be joining us in just a moment.”
A growl rumbles through my chest. “I swear to god?—”
“What?” James steps closer, narrowing his eyes. “What will you do, son? From where I’m standing, you won’t be doing much of anything.”
He’s not wrong.
Prick.
Minutes later, the steel door creaks open once again, and Maeve is wheeled in, slumped forward in a chair, her dark hair shielding her face.
Jesus, baby. Fuck.
My breath lodges in my throat. She’s too still. Is she even breathing? I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him. With my bare hands if I have to. If I don’t have Maeve, what else is there left to live for?
“What the fuck did you do to her?” I yank at the chains. Again. Again. They don’t budge. “Leave her alone.”
He can torture me all he likes. But not her. Jesus, not her.
And where the fuck is Asher?
James tuts, wagging a finger like I’m a misbehaving child. “Now, now, Caleb. You don’t get to make demands. You and Maeve are part of something much bigger than your little rebellion.”
A hollow laugh chokes out of me, tearing at the brokenness of my body. “Ah, the classic ‘you’re special’ speech,” I mutter. “Let me guess. We’re chosen? The missing pieces of your grand plan? Do we get capes?”
James sneers, his upper lip spasming as he steps closer, filling the air with his hatred. I brace for another blow. Only one never comes.
“You’ve always been the deflector.” He leans in, his sour breath hot. “A quip for every ounce of fear.” A smile sharpens across his weathered face like that of a man possessed by greed and delusion. “I want to know what Asher thinks of all this?”
I wouldn’t know because the arsehole has abandoned me.
“Asher,” I whisper into the void of my mind. “Now would be a good fucking time. Great, actually. I can’t do this alone.”
There, I hope he’s happy. I begged, admitted I need him, so where the fuck is he?
Silence.
No snarky reply, no cruel laugh.
Just pure, dreaded silence.
Typical. The one time I’m practically begging him to show himself, and he’s hiding. And I’m the coward.
James raises an eyebrow. “Nothing?” He gestures to his guards. “Perhaps we need to remind you who you are, Caleb. Or rather, who you’re not.”
The guard standing behind Maeve positions her in the centre of the room. The second wheels in an old monitor, like the ones from back in the nineties. Can’t say I remember much considering I was four, but still, nostalgia and all that.
“Now,” James says, his tone light, almost cheerful. “Maeve is struggling to come to terms with who she really is. So, I thought we’d give her a little reminder. What do you say, Caleb?”
I say he can choke on his fucking reminder.
He presses a button on the remote and the screen flickers to life. A grainy video shows two teenagers, strapped to chairs like the one Maeve is in now. The girl’s screams echo in the small room, raw and desperate as a figure looms over the boy administering an electric shock, his body convulsing, his eyes rolled back, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.
Maeve.
And . . . me.
“What the fuck is that?” My throat tightens. “Turn it off.”
James doesn’t even look at me. His gaze is fixed on Maeve as if she’s the only thing in the room.
The video continues to play.
Maeve’s younger self lets out a guttural scream, her fists clenched. “Let him go!” she shouts, her voice cracking with the same defiance I’ve always felt simmering just beneath the surface of her skin.
James is telling the truth about one thing. It seems Maeve and I did know each other back then. Not only that, they tortured us together, made us bleed and beg for one another.
A gasp fills the room, and the real Maeve jerks upright, her breathing ragged. Her eyes dart around like a cornered animal, bloodshot and feral, never quite focusing on any one thing. Until they land on me.
“Caleb.” Her voice is a strangled sob, a lifeline.
The chains won’t budge, won’t give an inch. Useless. “It’s okay, baby,” I say, attempting to placate her. “Just breathe. I’m okay.”
‘Okay’ is a little generous. ‘Hanging by a thread’ is more accurate.
She shakes her head, her hair whipping at her dirt and tear-stained face. “It’s not okay. I-I’m . . .” A sob cuts her off, and she squeezes her eyes shut, rocking back and forth in her chair.
James claps, smiling like a man at a fucking tea party. “There she is. Finally awake.” He kneels in front of her, gripping her chin. “Now, the fun can begin.”
Maeve rears back, spitting in his face, saliva sticking to her chin. “You fucking arsehole.”
“There’s our girl.” Asher’s voice purrs in my mind, almost amused.
Typical.
“Now you show up,” I mutter. “About fucking time.”
“This is what they want. Me. Her. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
Yeah, because it’s that easy.
James snaps his head towards me, his eyes dancing, a glimmer of something unhinged flickering in them. “Is that Asher I hear?”
“No,” I say, my voice stronger than I feel. “Now leave Maeve the fuck alone.”
James stands, wiping Maeve’s saliva from his cheek like it’s nothing more than sweat. “Let’s see if a little encouragement brings out our star players, then, shall we?”
He nods to the guards.
Both step in front of me, cracking their knuckles like the cliched muscle men they are.
Shit.
Don’t think they’re here to release me.
“Listen, fellas. I’m sure we can?—”
The first blow lands square in my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. Something cracks. Blood fills the back of my throat, thick and metallic. Another strike follows. Then another.
Each one precise, methodical.
I lose count, the world blurring around me as my body screams in protest.
“Asher!” James’s voice cuts through the haze like a father calling for his disobedient child. “How much more will you let him take before you step in?”
“Ignore him, Caleb.” Asher’s voice is steady.
Still, I don’t miss the tension beneath it. For the first time, I trust him to keep me safe. To keep Maeve safe.
He’s all I’ve got.
Maeve cries out, tears streaking her beautiful face. “Caleb.” Her voice is barely audible above the pounding in my head. “I’m so sorry.”
My stomach twists.
James crosses his arms, watching like he’s at a show. “You’ve always been weak, Caleb,” he says, tilting his head. “Hiding behind Asher like a scared little boy.”
Another blow lands on my jaw, my head cracking against the concrete behind me. Static floods my vision, my blood whooshing through my ears.
How much more of this can my body take?
“Maeve,” I choke out, forcing my head up despite the dizziness. “Don’t watch, baby. Close your eyes.”
Another fist flies at me. All I see is her.
If I survive this, it’ll be for her.
She’s trembling, her lips moving, but there’s no sound. Her eyes dart between me and the screen, panic etched into every line of her face.
“Bethany,” James says, his tone gentle now, coaxing. “Do you see what they’re doing to him? You can stop this. You’ve done it before.”
Bethany. Maeve’s friend, the one she’s been searching for this entire time.
I glance at the video once more.
The girl’s face. Maeve’s face.
But not.
Oh . . . shit.
James’s words stick like tiny thorns, nudging at the truth Asher has buried deep down.
Bethany isn’t just some childhood friend.
She’s her.
Maeve’s other half.
Bethany is her Asher.
Maeve shakes her head violently, her breathing fractured. “No! I’m Maeve. I’m not her. I’m not . . .”
The words aren’t to convince James.
They’re to convince herself.
But I see it in her eyes. The doubt. The cracks forming in her mind.
The guard in front of me glances at James, his fists ready to strike another blow.
The old man just waves him off and sighs dramatically. “Never mind,” he says, stepping in front of Maeve, his guards following his movements. “There’s another trick we can try. If that doesn’t work, then I’m afraid, it’s the end of the line for you, Caleb.” With that, he steps back, hands linked in front of his body. “Put her in front of lover boy, here. “We’ll see who cracks first.”
A snap of his fingers, and the guards grab Maeve’s chair, dragging her barely two metres in front of me. Her eyes lock onto mine, wide, her bottom lip trembling.
“What are you doing?” Her breathing is shallow.
I struggle against the restraints, every muscle screaming in protest. “Let her go!”
James steps between us, his smile cruel as he holds up two tasers.
Well . . . fuck. I won’t give him the satisfaction of cowering. Instead, I stand tall, although my body is weakening with each passing second. It really is the worst day of my fucking life. Even worse than witnessing my mother blow my father’s brains out. Then her own.
“Oh, Caleb. This isn’t about letting anyone go,” James says, studying the devices. “It’s about finding out just how far you’re willing to go for each other. I need Asher to surface. Bethany will show herself then. He’s always been her soft spot. And her, his. I plan to use that to my advantage.”
Without another word, he aims the tasers directly at my torso, and fires. Both sets of metal prongs slam into my bare chest simultaneously. Volts of electricity surge through my body, each one of my muscles spasming involuntarily. My teeth clamp down. The smell of burning flesh invades the stale air.
Maeve’s cries are drowned out by the relentless throbbing in my head.
Like a dying heartbeat, the pain stops. Just like that. My legs give out, the chains keeping me upright, my shoulders popping from the strain of holding up my weight. Blood and saliva drip from my chin, down my chest.
Ah . . . shit. This isn’t good.
“M-Maeve.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s fractured.
Another bolt of lightning sears through me. A guttural sound echoes around the concrete prison.
The room spins, the edges of my vision darkening as everything else around me blurs into fragments like a kaleidoscope.
Asher growls, low and dangerous, above the ringing in my ears. “Not yet,” he murmurs. “Let them think they’ve won. I haven’t even started playing yet.”
Is he completely ignorant? There’s no ‘letting’ them think they’ve won. They have.
The electrical current continues to invade my insides, and the darkness takes over completely, blinding me.
My lips move without permission, the words slipping free like a secret.
“Wait for me . . . Little Shadow.”