Chapter Eleven – Tristan
It’s shortly after lunchtime when I find Mabel in the great room, watching TV. There actually aren’t many TV’s in the house; I don’t think I’ve ever caught Wolf watching anything. Then again, it isn’t like I spend every waking hour with him, only the time I’m forced to.
Mabel sits on the large sectional across from the big, flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. The remote rests beside her. I can’t tell what she’s watching; I’m not up to speed with whatever is popular. Never have been. Always had other things to occupy my mind and time with, such as torturing myself because I thought I’d never see my sister again.
I should leave her alone. I shouldn’t go to her, but it’s like my mind and my body have two different ideas, and the latter wins out, because before I know it I’m walking around the sectional and taking a seat near her. Not directly beside her, but close enough.
Close enough that I could reach for her and touch her, if I wanted to.
Which I shouldn’t.
But… but I do want to.
I study her. Her blond hair is a little messy, its kinks uneven, halfway between straight and curly. She wears jeans and an oversized sweater—although practically anything she wears would be considered oversized since she’s on the small side of the scale.
Too small, really. Like she doesn’t quite eat enough. Like she’s starving herself.
Her face appears sad, and I take that to mean she had a session with Wolf—I’d know. Anytime I talk to the guy he either pisses me off or says something that makes me wonder if I’ve ever made a single good choice in my life.
“I take it you met with Wolf,” I say, causing her eyes to move from the TV and land on me.
The smile she gives me in response is laced with sadness, not a true smile but one that lures me in all the same. “Is it that obvious?” she asks with a sigh. Her slender fingers fiddle with the bottom hem of her sweater.
“Wolf can be… blunt sometimes. Harsh. He likes talking about things that aren’t easy.”
“I can see that.” Now it’s Mabel’s turn to scrutinize me. Her gaze rakes over my figure, taking in how I sit, how I’m slightly leaning towards her. The thing that catches her gaze and holds it is the collar on my neck. “What is that?” She points to her own neck in reference, in case I don’t know what she’s talking about.
“Nothing.” I lean back on the couch and pull up the neckline of my shirt to hide it a bit better.
Mabel doesn’t want to drop it, probably just so the conversation can move beyond her session with Wolf. “You’re wearing it every time I see you. Do you ever take it off?”
A heavy breath escapes me. The girl already knows more about me than most. She knows I’m violent, that I’ve killed. I suppose there wouldn’t be much harm in telling her the truth about this. Maybe it’d make things difficult with Wolf—and I’m all for that. Fuck that guy.
“No,” I whisper. “I can’t.”
“You can’t? What do you mean?” She must think it’s some kind of joke, but as she watches my reaction, it dawns on her that I’m not kidding in any way. “Oh, you’re serious. Why can’t you take it off?”
I try to think of the best way to put it. “I’m not allowed to leave the property. It keeps me here.”
Mabel’s brows crease, and she tries to put it together. “It keeps you here? Like… a dog collar?” Just the way she says that last part, so incredulous, tells me she doesn’t quite believe it. She should, though, considering I’m a violent offender.
The only thing I do is shrug.
Her voice comes out hesitant, “Can I… can I look at it?”
Out of everything she could’ve said, that’s not something I was expecting, so it takes me a while to nod. Mabel scoots closer to me, closing the distance between us like it’s nothing, like she’s comfortable being close to me.
At first, I angle my head away. I’m not a man who feels shame in any capacity, but being near Mabel puts weird thoughts in my head and strange emotions in my black heart.
Fuck. I can smell her again. Why the fuck does she smell so good? It should be illegal.
But then she leans in even closer to me to inspect the collar around my neck, and something invisible tugs at me. My eyes flick down. With the angle of my neck and how close she is to me, I can barely see how intently she studies the collar. My hands clench into fists on my lap—the only thing I can do to stop myself from touching her. My chest rises and falls with breaths that turn heavy, almost ragged.
If I thought being close to her was torture, it’s nothing compared to the moment when she lifts a hand and lightly touches the collar. In doing so the tips of her fingers brush against the bare skin of my neck, and I barely resist the shudder her touch elicits from me.
I shouldn’t let her get this close. I shouldn’t let her look at the collar. But this girl… she sees past the scars on my skin, past the collar and the horrific truth of what I’ve done. She sees me as a person, which most don’t. Most just see the Cobra now when they look at me.
Maniacal. Evil. Treacherous. A traitor not only to the Black Hand but to his own family. I was moved here to live out the rest of my life under Wolf’s supervision. I didn’t think… I never thought someone like Mabel would find herself in the same place.
And I never thought I’d want her, not when the only person I ever wanted was the one person I couldn’t have.
Mabel is attainable. So close. I’ve never wanted the attainable before—and fuck, do I want her. I want her more than logic should allow. She’s just a normal girl working through some issues; she’s nowhere near my level of fucked up.
“Does it shock you?” Mabel asks in a whisper.
I fear my voice will not work if I try to speak, so I settle for nodding. Her hand no longer touches the collar, therefore she doesn’t touch my neck anymore, but she hasn’t scooted away. She sits beside me, mere inches between us, and she acts totally unconcerned about being this close to a killer.
“Wow,” she murmurs. “I was wondering how you were here, and not in prison. I guess that’s one way to keep you here. Your family must have a lot of money or something. You really can’t take it off?”
I shake my head again. “No. It… shocks me if I try.”
“And it shocks you hard enough to stop you?” When my head nods a third time, she whispers, “Wow. That’s… kind of crazy, actually. It must hurt to stop someone as big as you.”
Compared to her, I suppose I am big. Tall, over six feet, though my muscular stature has dwindled a bit since I haven’t worked out lately. Still lean, but I was beefier a year ago. Things change, however; I was forced to learn that.
I angle my head down to her, finding that she stares up at me with such wide, innocent eyes. They no longer hold a trace of the sadness they held when I first sat down. That pretty, grayish- blue color is zeroed in on me, and it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
And it doesn’t. How could a world exist at all when everything that matters is held inside those eyes? Those eyes capture and hold me in place, pinning me down like knives with no sharp edges—there’s nothing sharp at all about Mabel. She’s soft, gentle, sweet, the opposite of every girl I grew up around. The opposite of what I always wanted.
Maybe I am different. Changed. The old me never would’ve looked at Mabel twice, but the new me? The new me can’t stop, can’t think of anything else. The new me wants to touch her, memorize how that soft skin feels when it grazes against mine.
The new me wants to know if she tastes as good as she smells.
“You’re very…” I swallow hard. Every word is a battle to be spoken; I don’t want to talk right now. All I want to do is pull her on my lap and… “Comfortable around me, considering.”
Some might call it stupid, but those people would be wrong. There are a lot of people I’d easily harm in this world, but Mabel is not one of them. I’d never hurt her.
Mabel’s lips pull into a sad smile. “Would you believe you’re not the first killer I’ve spent time with?” On her lap, she fiddles with her hands, and I barely resist the urge to set mine on top of hers to stop her. “I mean, I didn’t know he was a killer… although, I guess he wasn’t technically a killer until the end, but—”
She stops herself from rambling. “Sorry,” Mabel says. “It’s still so hard. My brother and I were so close—”
That last sentence in particular snaps me to attention, and I say, “Your brother?”
“Yeah. He, um, killed sixteen people.” She bites her bottom lip, a gesture that would normally drive me mad, but I’m still stuck on the brother part. “We were so close. Closer than most brothers and sisters, I think. We were twins. He was… he was my best friend.” Her voice cracks.
“I…” Words fail me.
Mabel shakes her head and tries to smile. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
I’m uneasy now. Something isn’t right. As much as I hate to say it, I need to talk to Wolf.
I get up, startling Mabel as I do so. “I’m sorry. I need… I need to see Wolf.” I don’t wait for her to say anything; I simply go, and I walk away with a fast pace. She watches me go, but she doesn’t try to stop me.
As I hurry through the house in search of the man I need to talk to, my thoughts flit out of control. Mabel is messed up because of her brother. Her brother . The only reason I’m connecting the dots now is because she felt comfortable enough with me to tell me; if she hadn’t said something, I’d still be in the dark.
Her fucking brother.
And they were close. Best friends. Perhaps even a bit too close.
Yeah, it sounds familiar. Too fucking familiar.
I find Wolf in his private office on the third floor of the house. When I walk in, I shut the door behind me and watch as he takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. Wolf slides his glasses back on and leans back in that tall leather chair, setting both hands on his grand mahogany desk. He must’ve been working on his computer; the thin screen off to the side is on, but whatever he was doing he minimized.
“Well,” Wolf remarks dryly, sounding completely disinterested, “aren’t you a man on a mission. Tell me, Tristan, what is the mission today?”
I storm over to his desk and give him a glower. “Cut the shit, Wolf. No more games.”
“And what game do you think I’m playing?” At that, he almost sounds amused.
“Really?” My nostrils flare. This might be the most pissed off I’ve been since… fuck, I can’t remember. Since before coming here, surely. “That’s how you want to play it? It’s her brother. Her fucking brother—”
His hands fall to his lap. “Ah, so she told you. I was wondering how long it would take.”
“What do you mean, how long it would—” Whatever else I’m about to say, the words refuse to come out. As I stare at him, as I barely hold back from lunging myself over that desk and reaching for his throat, it finally hits me.
It must show on my face, because Wolf smirks. “I see it’s coming to you. Walk me through what you’re thinking.”
“Mabel has brother issues. I… have sister issues. I should have known she wasn’t fucked up enough for you.” I breathe hard, my eyes narrowed at Wolf. “You didn’t bring her here to treat her.”
Wolf is a good liar. He’s a psychopath through and through. I don’t know why I didn’t see this sooner, but the whole brother thing definitely filled in the blanks.
“You brought her here for me.” As I say it, Wolf’s smirk widens, and I know without a doubt it’s true. “She’s some sort of… test or something. You’re not helping her—you’re testing me .”
He doesn’t deny it. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to figure it out. Of course, it really depended on Mabel and how quickly she opened up to you, but I knew it would come to you sooner or later.”
“Why?” One of my hands curls into a fist at my sides, which he instantly notices. “Why bring her here? She’s a person, not a toy.”
“I’m not the one who needs reminded of that, you are. She is in no danger from me… but you?” Wolf hums, leaving me to put it together again. “Her fate is in your hands in every way. I will admit, I didn’t think things would happen this fast, but I am pleased so far.”
I let out a chuckle full of disbelief. This guy really is nuts. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m not the one with a shock collar on my neck and scars littered all over my body,” he shoots back. “You are a doer. You put plans into action, and you put your all into those plans even if they blow up in your face.”
“Is that what you are? A doer, but better than me?”
Wolf chuckles, but it’s a dark sound. “I learned a long time ago that I am a fixer. I am uniquely equipped to fix problems most people can’t or aren’t willing to. You and your… let’s call them destructive habits, are certainly a problem worthy of my time. When I was contacted by Mike Altier about Mabel, I knew she’d be perfect. Her issues complement yours quite well, don’t you think?”
I shake my head once and mutter, “You should not toy with her life like this.”
“And I’m not. You are. I did not bring her here for me. As you said, I brought her here for you. What you end up doing will be your choice entirely. Will she come out of this house unscathed, or will you break her, like you have the bad habit of doing to those you love?”
“You are so fucked up.”
Wolf chuckles softly at that. “It’s not a contest. This is your story, not mine. Will you learn to accept the darker parts of you while learning to move on and be better, or will you fall into old habits again? Will the Cobra make an appearance here?”
The Cobra would’ve already killed Wolf. The fucking Cobra wouldn’t be trapped in this goddamned house with a collar around his neck, stuck in a liminal space while the rest of the world moves on outside and the only person he ever truly loved forgets about him.
There was a time, not too long ago, when I couldn’t separate myself from the Cobra. I was the Cobra. That mask became my new identity after everything went to hell all those years ago. But now…
Who is Tristan Arrowwood? Is he a man worthy of saving, of fixing? I don’t think so. Many nights I spent wondering why Shay didn’t aim the gun a little bit higher and to the left; she was a good shot. She could have easily put a bullet in my head and put me down for good.
“If Mabel finds out,” I start.
“I don’t plan on telling her. Do you?” When I don’t answer him, Wolf continues, “I wouldn’t, if I were you. Though I do wonder how she would react to learning the truth about your past. She knows you’re violent, that you’ve killed—but she doesn’t know the full truth of it. Will you tell her? Will you lay yourself bare before her, or will you lie, as you grew accustomed to doing ever since the night you killed your parents?”
The only thing I do is shake my head and mutter, “You’re fucking insane.”
That earns me an actual smile—but it doesn’t look like a smile. No, it’s an expression that mimics a smile. There is no true happiness behind it, only a cold, icy emptiness that Wolf is adept at hiding from most people.
But not me. I know the emptiness inside because I felt the same for five years. Those five years, after I killed my parents and became the Cobra, were the worst years of my life. I wouldn’t want to relive them for anything. Pain was the only thing that reminded me I was alive, hence all the scars on my body.
I thought I was still empty. Empty and angry. I thought that’s all I would ever be until death finally took me in its embrace… but I was wrong—and the reason I was wrong, ultimately, is because of Wolf and his calculations.
All the more reason I should not entertain anything with Mabel, why I shouldn’t let her in, why I shouldn’t spend any time thinking about her.
As I leave Wolf’s office, I already know that’ll be impossible. There’s no way in hell I’m strong enough to stay away from that girl.
Still, I need to try, for both our sakes.