Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GHOST
The Code: Rule #5
No information pertaining to the Sanctum shall be shared (with a civilian or lower-ranking Mask)
I flip the bacon, listening to the satisfying sizzle as I take a deep breath in. I fucking love the smell of bacon in the evening. I smile to myself, moving over to the scrambled eggs cooking on low on the other burner. I give them a gentle stir, listening for the telltale footsteps that will tell me when Brett has woken. She’s been sleeping all day—likely due to the excess sedative Orion gave her—and the sun is just setting behind the cliffs, casting the kitchen in a warm orange hue .
I can’t believe I almost lost her last night. I frown, nearly burning the eggs when I forget I’m supposed to be stirring. I sigh, pulling the pan from the heat before turning back to the bacon. If Orion hadn’t found her when he did, I…
I can’t think about that now. I shake my head, getting rid of those negative thoughts. I need to focus. Brett will be up any moment now.
As if on cue, there’s a shuffle emanating from the doorway. I turn to face her, my smile hidden by the thick metal mask on my face. Brett stands in the doorway, her hands clenched tightly in front of her. My chest lights up as I rest my gaze on her, noting the way her hair gleams in the evening light.
She looks lovely.
“Hello, Brett. You’re just in time for dinner.”
She bites her lip, lowering her head slightly. “Eggs and bacon for dinner?” When I don’t answer, she clears her throat. “Yesterday… I didn’t mean to offend you by running away?—”
“It’s quite understandable,” I say, using a fork to plop the bacon onto a platter. “You were thinking of your duties as a federal agent. However, I must also think of my duties, which is why you’re back here.” I cast a look at where she’s still standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Regrettably, Rupert had to have his collar altered.”
She grimaces, taking two small steps into the kitchen while gazing around. “You didn’t show me this room yesterday.”
“I was planning to.”
“Right,” she murmurs, her eyes dropping to the floor. “So who was that? The guy who… picked me up?”
“Orion.” I plop two more pieces of bacon onto the platter. “He is my… apprentice.”
“Oh.”
I glance over, noting how she is now sitting at the table, looking out at the windows overlooking the sea.
“This place is really pretty in the evening,” she murmurs, twiddling her fingers on the tabletop.
“I’m pleased you like it.” I place the last of the bacon on the platter, then stalk over to the table, placing the platter directly in front of her. Brett looks up, her eyes going wide as they rest on my hand—my ungloved hand.
I jerk, nearly dropping the plate onto the floor in my haste to remove the disgusting thing from her sight. Placing the platter on the opposite end of the table, I race back to the stove where I stupidly took my gloves off to make her breakfast.
“My apologies,” I say, slipping the leather gloves back over the mutilated flesh. “I hope that didn’t spoil your appetite.”
Brett shakes her head, a small frown between her eyebrows. When she doesn’t say anything else, I float back to the table, taking a seat directly next to her.
Brett scootches as far as she can from me, and I’m filled with a sickening feeling. She hates me. No, she’s disgusted by me, just like Xander said she would be.
I stay silent for a long time, waiting for her to say something. Finally, she reaches forward, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth. She leans back in my chair as she chews, regarding me with an inquisitive gaze.
“You brought me back. Why?”
I scoff, shaking my head slightly. How could she still be asking me that? “Because you’re safe here,” I say, crossing my arms as I lean back in my seat. I want to add with me, but I doubt that would go over well with what happened yesterday.
“Oh.” She bites her lip again, gazing at the bacon like she wants another piece. I grab the plate, shoving it directly in front of her .
“Eat up,” I murmur, leaning closer and breathing her scent in deep. “You need your strength.”
“You keep saying that,” she whispers, popping another piece of bacon into her mouth without looking at me.
I tilt my head, trying to read her expression. Her cheeks are flushed, and she seems antsy, like sitting next to me is causing some sort of electric reaction in her body. I reach over, placing my hand on her thigh. To my surprise, she doesn't pull away.
“Brett, I…” I can’t finish that sentence. What would I even say to her? That I’m completely, utterly enchanted by her? That she makes me lose control? That she’s occupied my every last thought for the past three months? No, that wouldn’t do at all.
“What is it?” She turns her head to face me, putting her nose inches away from mine. My breath catches as I stare into her beautiful ocean eyes, the urge to pull her into my chest almost too strong to fight.
She leans in, her beautiful lashes fluttering. It almost looks like she’s going to kiss?—
“Sorry,” she murmurs, her cheeks heating as she leans back in her seat. “I don’t… I don’t know what I was doing. ”
NO! No, no, no, no, NO! Don’t you dare shut down on me now. Not now. Not when I finally ? —
“Where's the restroom?” she asks, the chair scraping behind her as she stands.
One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand. Splat. There goes my heart on the pavement. DOA.
“Down the hall,” I say, gesturing to the left in a grand sweeping motion. “If you need assistance, I’d be more than happy to?—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
I wait until she disappears down the hall before pulling up the feed to my bathroom. It’s wrong—I know that—but I can’t stop looking at her. When I do, I’m consumed by that terrible nothingness. Without her, I’m a soulless black hole, but with her…
I shake my head. There is no with her. Brett hates me. A small part of me screams that I can change her mind, but I quickly squash it. Thoughts like that will get me killed. Or worse.
I watch Brett as she passes the door to the bathroom, and I get to my feet, moving toward the room she’s heading to. The library.
When I get there, Brett stands in front of the bookcase with the picture of me and Brenden, her fingers running lightly over the glass like they did yesterday. I’m not sure why she’s so curious about the photo—could it be because she can’t imagine me as a child? As anything but a ruthless, merciless killer in a mask?
“Who is he?”
Brett’s voice rings out, and it’s my turn to jump. I didn’t realize she knew I was here.
As if she heard my thoughts, Brett smirks. “Your aftershave. I smelled it as soon as you got close. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me…”
For some reason, I don’t think I was supposed to hear that last part. “You’re enamored with the photo.” It’s not a question, but Brett answers anyway.
“I just… it’s so weird to think of you like that.” She looks at me, her lips tipped upward in a sarcastic smile. “With friends, you know.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but her words are like a knife to the heart. Or, at least, what I assume it would feel like. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had one. You’re not far off in your assumptions about me.”
She nods, her brows pulling together in a frown as she turns back to the photo. “So which one’s you? Please tell me you bleach your hair now. ”
I shake my head, walking over and standing at her side, my eyes taking in the same young smiling faces. “No. I’m afraid not.”
She reaches out, touching the face of the boy with white hair. When I look at this picture, I see nothing but pain and heartache. I wonder what Brett sees when she looks at it. If she sees a monster or just a little boy crying out for help.
I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyhow. “His name was Brenden,” I say, surprised at the pain in my voice. “He was… my best friend.”
Brett’s mouth turns down, and she turns her head to look at me. “What happened to him?”
I frown at her question, a crushing weight sitting on my chest as I face her, the memories tearing through my mind like a hurricane.
“He died.”
20 years ago…
I lie in bed, staring up at the bottom of Brenden’s bunk. The Rook’s quarters are a lot quieter these days—too quiet, considering this place used to be the one area of solace in the program. An area of camaraderie, a place of safety.
Now, there’s none of that.
Just last week, I had to hold a knife to Devon’s throat to get him to let Brenden out of his chokehold. Now that just a few of us are left in the program, the stronger boys have taken to picking off the weaker ones. The kinder ones. Ones like Brenden.
I sigh, closing my eyes against the morning sun streaming through the windows. In a few hours, we will be in the circle, and I’ll have to pray Brenden can hold his own against his sparring partner. I know I won’t have the luxury of being paired with him—once, Master tried it, and all we did was jokingly hit each other. Since that day, he’s paired us with the other boys so I can’t protect him.
Some part of me thinks he wants Brenden dead. I’ve heard him whispering about how he’s holding back my “potential,” but I don’t understand why he would think that. Brenden is the only reason I keep going. He’s the reason I wake up and decide to fight every day.
The morning bell breaks me out of my thoughts, and I silently sit up, shoving my feet into my shoes slower than normal .
“You ready, Ghosty?”
I jerk my head up, noticing Brenden’s hand on my shoulder and a wide grin spreading his freckled cheeks. While puberty had me shooting up and leaning out, Brenden experienced the opposite. He’s still that same chubby, freckled boy he was five years ago. Nothing has changed.
It makes me worry about the outcome of today’s match.
I look around our quarters, noting how the other Rooks are shooting Brenden bloodthirsty looks. They want their chance with him today—want the opportunity to thin the pool that much more.
After all, only one of us is making it through this alive. I just always hoped it would come down to Brenden and me, so I could make sure he lives. I owe it to him.
“Why the long face?” Brenden asks, nudging my shoulder with his. “Come on, man. You can’t spend your life worrying. Either we live today or we don’t. It’s all up to fate, man.”
I shake my head, unable to meet his gaze. “You’re wrong, Brenden.”
His smile drops slightly as I shove him off, finishing tying up my boots. I straighten, shooting the other boys a glare as I lead Brenden out of the cabin. He follows at my heels, refusing to say a word.
Brenden is far too willing to accept the cards life handed him. But I won’t. I throw them back in life’s face and spit on them, then I’ll make my own destiny. At least, that’s what I would do in another life. A life where I don’t have to fight my brothers to the death.
The other Rooks and I stand in line at the outer edge of the circles, Brenden close at my side. I lean over, nudging him with my shoulder and offering him a small smile. He returns it, though he looks slightly paler than he did earlier.
Master’s footsteps have me standing up straight, squaring my face and shoulders forward like he taught us. He walks past the six of us, pausing in front of Brenden to look him up and down disapprovingly.
“P-1314. I’m never not surprised to see you still standing here.”
A couple of the boys snicker, and my fist tightens at my side as I resist the urge to wheel my fist into Master’s face. I doubt I could get more than one surprise hit in, but my death would be worth it to see the shock on his face.
Brenden’s shoulders tighten, but he doesn’t say a word. Master scoffs, turning to address the rest of us.
“Today’s match is a fight to the death.” His distorted voice echoes across the clearing, and several birds take flight to get away from the horrid sound. His chest shakes with a chuckle, and he turns that black oval toward me, pinning me with a stare. Like he knows something I don’t, and he’s going to enjoy watching me suffer.
“First match of the day,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “Boy and Brenden.”