66. Cain
Cain
Ihave never claimed to be a good man. Not even once.
A controlling, manipulative, narcissistic psychopath… Yes. I wear those titles like honorary badges. I have always embraced the dark, oppressive reality of my existence. I’ve always left the pathetic, bleeding-heart role of the saint entirely to my brother.
I stood motionless, not moving for the longest time, captivated with the vision before me.
I simply existed in the dark, my breath slow and shallow behind the mask, as I drank in the sight of my masterpiece.
She was draped against the roots of that tree like a fallen dead angel caught in a spider web, the white of her costume stained and tainted.
I watched the way the sedative softened her, the way her head lolled back against the bark, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat where the chain had just been biting.
I stayed there, a silent presence in the brush, memorising the sight in front of me, needing to anchor myself in this exact moment, refusing to let it slip away.
Julian’s frantic light continued to sweep through the pines in the distance—a desperate search for a girl who had already been stolen.
I watched him miss her again and again, his incompetence only making the scene before me feel more sacred.
It was almost insulting, really. I felt a flicker of genuine shame for him—at how pathetically easy it had been to bypass his defences.
He’d left the doors unlocked and the perimeter unguarded, practically gift-wrapping her for me.
He’d made it so effortless that there was no challenge left in the hunt, only the execution.
I stepped forwards one last time, the forest swallowing the sound of my boots. With a slow click, I released the pressure at her ankles and slid the steel links from her wrists, granting her unconscious body the small mercy of unbinding her from the tree.
The chains pooled in the dirt at her feet like discarded snake skin.
I traced the curve of her jaw with a gloved thumb, memorising the way she looked draped in the wreckage of her own surrender.
She was free from the steel, but she would never be free of me. Not ever.
I reached down and retrieved the small video camera from the dirt.
I wiped a smear of mud from the lens with my thumb, an immensely satisfied smile curving my lips, before slipping the device securely into the inner pocket of my jacket.
I couldn’t wait to watch her beautiful, wrecked face as she shattered around me over and over.
I stood up, adjusting my collar, ready to step back and let the darkness fold around me until I was nothing but a memory in the wind.
THWACK.
The blinding agony hit before I even heard the rush of air.
A hunting blade buried itself straight into the dead centre of my forehead, sinking deep into the bone right between my eyes.
My vision exploded into a sheet of white. A choked, breathless gasp tore from my throat as my legs gave out, sending me crashing abruptly to my knees in the dirt.
Fuck. Being immortal definitely had its perks—my body was already fighting to knit the flesh back together, the supernatural healing forcing its way through the trauma—but it didn't do a damn thing for the sensation.
I still felt pain. Every single, excruciating bit of it.
Over the years, the agony of a mortal wound hadn't dulled by a fraction; it just became a familiar, burning hell.
My vision swam, blurred with thick, dark blood that began to pour from the wound, blinding me as it rushed down the bridge of my nose. Gritting my teeth, I raised a trembling hand, my fingers wrapping around the hilt of the knife to yank it out of my skull.
Before I could even loosen the steel, a heavy, combat-booted foot caught me squarely in the side of the head.
The brutal kick sent a sickening crack through my jaw, knocking me forwards. As I bent over, the force of Julian's boot stomped down on the hilt of the knife, driving the blade inches deeper into my forehead, scraping against the inside of my skull.
"Fuck!"
Julian didn't stay to finish me. His panicked breathing shifted as he rushed past my twitching body, launching himself across the clearing towards Sage.
"Sage! No… no, no, no. Sage!"
I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, my breath coming in bloody wheezes as I reached up again to claw at the knife.
Through the curtain of red dripping into my eyes, I watched my brother drop to his knees beside her.
His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he checked her pulse, frantically trying to see if she was still breathing.
But then he really looked at her. He saw the state I’d left her in—the torn, structured corset ripped open, her bared breasts, and the shreds of her black lace panties tossed carelessly in the leaves.
I had wanted him to see exactly what I had done to his prized possession, but I hadn't anticipated the pure, apocalyptic madness it would trigger.
Julian’s chest heaved, an animalistic roar tearing out of his throat as he lunged back across the dirt in my direction.
Just as I finally managed to slick my grip around the hilt and tear the bloody knife free from my forehead, Julian slammed into me like a freight train.
The impact threw us both into the dirt. It was a brutal, feral, unhinged fight.
There was no technique in the brawl—just, catastrophic violence.
Julian rained down a savage succession of blows, his shredded knuckles opening up new gashes across my face with each hit, while I lashed back with the knife, tearing through his jacket, trying to gut him as the wound in my head poured a stream of blood between us.
We were rolling through the mud, a mass of tearing limbs and choked curses, entirely intent on ripping each other to pieces.
A soft, breathless noise cut through the chaotic sounds of our violence.
It was barely a whimper, a tiny, drug-heavy murmur from Sage as she stirred slightly on the ground.
Julian froze instantly. The manic rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by a desperate focus. He abandoned the fight, throwing me off him as he scrambled back through the dirt, rushing to her side to gather her limp, heavy body into his arms.
I didn't waste a moment of the distraction.
Coughing up a mouthful of blood, I pressed my hand against the inner pocket of my jacket, feeling the hard, reassuring shape of the video camera still secured inside.
My head was pounding, a blinding, white-hot migraine of supernatural healing stitching my skull back together, but I still had the prize.
I scrambled back into the brush, pushing myself to my feet. Julian was completely wrapped up in her, pulling her flush against his chest to shield her from me, his back completely turned.
In a strange, sick way, this was the closest Julian and I had been to bonding since we were kids. A shared obsession. A mutual, frantic need for a girl we both can’t seem to keep a hold of.
I wiped the blood from my eyes, a sinister smirk splitting my lips as I sprinted into the cover of the dark.
Oh, brother. When will you realise? Everything you can do… I can do better.