Chapter Thirty-One The Reckoning #2
The gun’s blast pierced my ears, bursting the drum inside. Warm, wet splatters of liquid coated the side of my face, and I expected there to be more pain.
My eyes opened, still able to see.
I must be a ghost, right? I didn’t expect it to happen that quickly, I thought there would be a light, a gate I needed to walk through.
Instead there was Alistair falling to his knees in front of the chair, hands inching towards my face.
“Briar, Briar, Briar.”
Briar
Briar
Briar
It felt so real, my name on his lips, echoing in my head as the gag on my mouth was pulled away and the ties wrapping me to the chair fell off. I felt his hands, hotter than coals, press into my cheeks directing my attention towards his gaze.
The world started moving normally once again. I had breached the surface, just in time to hear guttural groans of pain and the shuffling of feet.
“You’re okay,” He whispered, “You’re gonna be okay, Little Thief.”
As if I was a feather, he scooped me up into his arms, cradling me to his chest. My nose seeking out the comforting smell of his cologne and burying my head into his neck as he carried me. Chasing that scent.
My vision was spotty, but I could see on the ground behind the chair I’d just been sitting in, laid Dorian.
On his side, eyes wide open, clutching his shoulder where blood was staining his white button down.
So much blood it didn’t look real. Seeping between his fingers as he rocked on the floor in pain.
Just before my eyes closed, I saw them.
Three shadows moved across the living room, dressed in black and as always, the children of the dark came to protect their own.
Alistair
The shower had shut off twenty minutes ago.
I wanted to give her time. Allow her to absorb everything, let the dust settle, and I knew once she came out, the adrenaline would have wiped her to the point of exhaustion.
Staying in the guest house at Thatcher’s meant she would have a bedroom to herself without any of the awkward, where am I sleeping conversations occurring. Even though I knew she needed space, I refused to let her sleep at the dorms tonight.
Just for tonight I wanted her under the same roof as me. I needed to make sure for tonight at least, she was safe.
Creaking of the bathroom door made my knee quit bouncing, long enough to follow the trail of her long legs, steam poured out from behind her. The shirt and boxers I’d given her to wear were a few sizes too big and they swallowed her body.
A goddess. An angel. All the good left in a wicked world.
Gently grabbing her wet hair and pulling it to the side, giving me a clearer view of the bruise on her eye.
I hated myself more then.
That I had been the reason a girl who represented all the things I’d ever wanted was hurting. A girl who had everything I needed and I was too afraid to accept. Because just as Dorian said, I didn’t deserve anything.
That’s all I’ve been taught. So how would I have believed for even a second that Briar and I could have been something?
Looking at the bright purple wound and scratch on her face threw me below rock bottom. I didn’t question that I’d been more worried about that bruise, than about my brother bleeding on the floor.
Even though there had been a solitary moment tonight when I was looking at Dorian that I saw myself. A son who’d been raised to be something he never wanted to be.
He was the other extreme.
Raised with the pressure of being the successor, having to be perfect, never allowed to fail because if he did they would replace him. I knew what pressure like that felt like for a young kid and it had done just as much damage to him, that it had done to me.
And for that moment, I hated him a little less because for the very first time, I related to him.
My head aches with repercussions I knew I’d be dealing with come tomorrow. Answering questions from our parents, listening to what story they would spin to cover all this up.
But for right now, I would let the guys handle Dorian’s hospital journey, and I would deal with everything else in the morning. Right now, I wanted to make sure she was okay.
That she would make it out of this with some sort of normalcy.
“The bed is clean and the door locks.” I stood from the chair, not being able to look at her for longer than a few moments. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything throughout the night.”
“Alistair?” She whispers, halting my stroll to the door with just the sound of her voice.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry.
As if this had been her fault. As if she could have possibly done anything to stop my brother. Even if she hadn’t fallen in my path, he still would have done this. Maybe even succeeded in his goal of making her his.
I shake my head, “Stop, this isn’t your fault. Don’t do that.” I let out a breath, “Dorian needs help. He’s fucked in the head. Don’t be sorry, you did nothing wrong.”
Tears stream down her freshly cleaned face, “I’m not sorry about him. I’m sorry about whatever it was that happened to you as children that made you two this way. That made you have to shoot your brother for me.”
I wanted to leave.
I should have left.
But I physically couldn’t stop myself from moving towards her. It was like gravity pulled me in her direction, refusing to let go until my hand cupped the side of her face, rubbing the tears away from her face.
“Technically, I didn’t shoot him,” I smile gently, “Silas did.”
A laugh that she probably didn’t expect escapes her throat, “You know what I meant.”
We stood there while I held her face, staring at one another and I thought about everything I’d done to her up to that point. How beneath it all, I was just attempting to destroy her because she represented what I could never have.
And similar to Dorian, if I couldn’t have her, no one could.
How right now, all I wanted was to really have her. Not just to toy with, more than a game. But I wanted to have her laughs.
I wanted to swallow them whole and see if they would heal all the rage in my soul. I wanted to bathe in the peace that came with being next to her after sex, when we’d draw lazy circles on each other’s bodies and nothing else mattered except the steady sound of her breath on my skin.
I knew her fear, but I wanted to know what drove her.
What made her smile, why she always wore the same pair of shoes, and what she wanted to be when she grew up. I wanted to be more than the man who scared her.
I wanted to be a man she could love even if I had no idea what that meant for me.
“Will you stay with me tonight? I…I just, I don’t—”
“Yes.” I don’t let her finish, she doesn’t need to.
She gets in the bed first, moving smoothly and quietly. Her long limbs trailing random patterns in the cotton waves, navigating the sea of navy-blue fabric with grace that reminded me a bit of a shark gliding effortlessly through the deep blue ocean.
I kicked my shoes off, reaching behind my head and removing my shirt, tossing it onto the floor and making my way onto my side of the bed. I shove the pillow under my head, laying on my side so we are staring at each other.
“I always wanted siblings.” She says, “Being an only child is lonely and I think that’s why it was so hard for me to make friends. I’ve always just felt alone and as weird as this sounds, I didn’t feel that way here. Even when you and your friends were being raging assholes.”
I chuckle, my chest vibrating with warmth.
“Siblings are overrated.” I joke. “I never really had a sibling either, not in the way most people do. I had a blood bound older brother, but that didn’t make us siblings.”
“But you have Rook, you have Thatcher, Silas.” She points out.
“Yeah. I do have them.”
Those were my brothers. Family that was chosen. Who woke up and chose to be a part of my life every day.
“Is Dorian,” She stumbles, “Is he going to be alright?”
I sigh, “Yeah, Silas just hit some muscle in his shoulder. He’ll need a blood transfusion and some fluids but he’ll be alright.”
She nods, accepting my answer and I see that the relief of him being alive makes her feel relief. Even though he almost killed her, she still didn’t want anyone dying because of her.
If I wanted her. If I really wanted her, I’d have to make sure she knew me. More than just what I wanted the world to see.
“He’s got hemophilia.”
“What?”
“Dorian. He was born with a rare condition called hemophilia, it’s just where his blood doesn’t clot as fast as regular people’s does.
When he was seven, he was at a lacrosse practice and took a hit to the ribs, no big deal for most kids, but he ended up in the hospital with severe internal bleeding. ”
I remember hearing my parents talk about it. I remember hearing it for the first time and thinking, I hate that my brother is sick. That I wish I could fix him.
“That’s when they found out and my grandfather, Alaric, refused to allow the Caldwell name to rest on the shoulders of a sick boy.
What if he died? What if he couldn’t handle all the assets he was set to inherit?
At the very least, he told my parents they needed to have a backup in case something happened. ”
I fucking hated talking about this. I hated thinking about how devastated I had been as a kid when I found out why I was born. I hated how no one cared after I was told. How it was just something I was supposed to live with.
“Alistair—” She mutters, sadness in her voice.
“So my parents basically made me in a petri dish. Genetically modifying my genes so that I was the exact blood type, so that I was initially a replica of my older brother. So that if something did happen, I could give him blood, donate an organ. I was only born to be spare parts. The heir and the spare, that’s what my grandfather called us.
” My voice felt like it gave out towards the end, like all the gas in my tank was finally gone. I was now running on empty.