Chapter 32
32
Lachlan
At first, I can’t place where I am. Let alone what’s happening.
I come to in pieces—muffled voices filtering in just before my eyelids stop being so heavy that I can actually begin to open them. I blink slowly, assessing my surroundings; my head is throbbing and my wrists ache from the chains I can feel wound around them.
What the fuck?
My head is lolled to the side, resting against my shoulder, and when I try to lift it, another burst of pain blooms in my head, blurring my vision. I focus on breathing, on drawing air into my lungs as I cling to consciousness, only just starting to place the voices still drifting from nearby.
“What the fuck is this?” I hear someone ask, a woman, definitely. “What did you do to him?”
I know that voice.
I crack open one eye, catching the blurry shape of wild, red curls attached to a very tense-looking Keyanna.
Keyanna.
We’d fought. She’d asked for space. I remember that I was going to go after her. I remember making it outside before—
I blink rapidly, my vision just starting to clear. Brodie fucking MacKay stands only a few meters away from me, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture as he approaches Key slowly, as one might a wild animal. Something that is admittedly a feat, given that he’s carrying what appears to be a wicked-looking bowie knife.
“Now, Key,” he says in a calm, even tone. “I can explain.” He points back at me. “He’s not what you think he is.”
If my head wasn’t throbbing so much, that might actually make me laugh. He has no fucking idea. I try to tug at the chain binding my wrists, feeling it give just a tad, but not enough to wiggle my hands free.
“He’s hurt!” Key practically hisses. “Did you do that to him? What the hell, Brodie?”
Brodie sighs, resting his fists against his hips, knife still carefully tucked in one hand. “I was hoping to handle this without involving you, but I guess there’s no choice now.” He points at me again. “Lachlan Greer is a monster.”
“Really,” Key snorts. “That’s rich, given that you’re the one holding a small machete.”
Brodie shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand. He’s an actual monster. I’ve seen it. He’s cursed , Key, and he’s been using you to find a way to break it.”
I open my mouth to say something, but my tongue feels heavy and like it’s made of cotton. I watch as Key goes still, cocking her head to the side, confusion etched all over her face. No doubt she’s thinking the same thing that I am.
How the fuck does he know about me?
“What…” Key’s brow knits; I assume she’s trying to gauge what all Brodie knows without giving too much away herself. “What do you mean?”
Brodie moves to a nearby headstone, grabbing a thick leather book from the top of it that I’m only just now noticing. By the look of surprise on Key’s face, she must only just be noticing it as well.
Brodie holds up the book, shaking it gently. “This journal belonged to Lachlan’s ancestor. I found it when we did the renovations for the auld wing. It was inside a false bit of a wall that hadn’t burned.”
Key looks at me then, noticing that I’m conscious, her eyes rounding. I try to convey with my eyes not to do anything hasty, giving a barely there shake of my head. She rips her gaze from mine to look back to Brodie.
“You had that all this time?”
Brodie nods. “That’s why I came here.” He walks over to me, giving me a disgusted look as he crouches down next to me. He tips the massive knife up until it rests underneath my chin, ignoring Key’s sharp sound of protest. “This book explains everything that his awful family did to ours. It talks about how they finally got theirs—cursed by a kelpie witch they’d taken advantage of. She made them into the monsters they’ve always been.”
“Brodie,” Key says placatingly. “That sounds insane.”
“Doesn’t it?” Brodie smiles, but it’s a cruel caricature of one. “I thought maybe it was too…but then I saw it for myself.”
“You’re…mental,” I manage, my tongue still feeling too thick.
Brodie shakes his head. “And you aren’t as careful as you think you are. What? Did you think you’d use my family again? Take advantage of my cousin? I bet you thought she’d lead you right to the bridle. Didn’t you.”
My mouth parts in surprise, and Brodie laughs.
“See? I have you all figured out. I knew what you were up to the minute you started cozying up to Keyanna. You took advantage of her desperation to know more about her family.”
“Brodie,” Key protests. “That isn’t—”
“Key,” Brodie sighs, standing once more. “I know you care about him, but you have to understand…He doesn’t give a damn about you. He’s using you.”
“No, that’s not—”
She catches my eye again, and I give her another subtle shake of my head. I don’t want her to reveal any more than she has to. We don’t know how Brodie will react if he finds out that Keyanna knows a lot more than he seems to think that she does. Especially since we still don’t know exactly what he wants.
“Why’re you doing this?” I ask hoarsely, feeling a bit stronger with every passing second, but not enough that I can break free.
“Why?” Brodie laughs again, but there’s no humor in it. “Because if I get my hands on that bridle, then everything changes.” He glares at me then. “You know, it feels a bit like poetic justice that you’re the bastard using my family again. My da always thought you were the perfect son, did you know? Used to tell your da over and over again that he wished I was more like you.” He lets out another bitter laugh. “But he didn’t stop there, no, he came home and told me the same things. ‘Why can’t you be more like Callum’s boy?’ he’d say, or ‘If you were a bit more like Lachlan, maybe you wouldn’t act so daft all the time.’?” He shakes his head. “My personal favorite, however, is when he came home one night after drinking with your da, telling me all about how he wishes he could just trade us out. How much easier it would have been if you were his instead of me.” Brodie takes a shuddering breath, his fists clenching as his neck flushes with anger. “Once I have the bridle, my da won’t treat me like a nobody anymore, and my brothers will respect me too.” He turns back to Key. “I can be whatever I want to be! I’ll make those bastards at the historical society pay for letting me go—” I meet Key’s gaze, and her wide eyes say this is news to her too. “Money…power…respect…I can have all of it. No one will make me feel like I’m worthless ever again.”
“What do you mean the society let you go?”
He scowls. “I saw the monster once before. Earlier this year. I couldn’t be sure it was him ”—he casts an irritated look my way—“but I saw it. I wrote a paper on my findings, using the journal as a way to validate things, but they laughed at me. Said I was losing touch. That I was confusing fiction with reality. Can you believe that?”
He’s waving the knife around wildly now, and when Key’s eyes meet mine, I give still another shake of my head, trying to convey to her that she needs to be careful. At least until I can get free.
“That must have been…hard,” Key says. “I’m sorry.”
“It was bollocks is what it was,” Brodie seethes. “I saw it with my own eyes, and they laughed. So I did what anyone would do—I tried to go over their heads. Took my findings to the papers. But, as it turns out, the editor there is a personal friend of my boss, and all it took was one worried phone call for my sanity to have the entire board decide I needed to be on administrative leave while they deliberate on what to do with me.” He spits at his feet. “Fancy way of saying they were kicking me to the curb.”
“So you’re here for proof,” she ventures.
Brodie nods. “Aye. And I’ll have it. Once I get the bridle and have photo evidence of Lachlan changing? They’ll have to believe me.”
“Brodie,” Key says gently. “This isn’t the way. This isn’t you. You’re actually hurting people.”
“He’s not people,” Brodie practically spits. “He’s been using our entire family. Rhona, Finlay, you —all just a means to an end. All just part of his own selfish agenda. He’s no better than the long line of bastards he came from. He’s just like my da. People are only as good as what they can do for him.”
I wince. Clearly this is a case of daddy issues that might get me killed. I start working my wrists behind my back, trying to ease my hands out of my restraints subtly as Brodie continues to rant.
“I know you found Tavish’s journal, Key,” he says. “I saw you leave Lachlan’s place with it. So I know you both know where the bridle is. I really wanted to keep you out of this, but that’s not an option now. Tell me where it is.”
“Brodie, this isn’t—”
“Don’t be daft, Key,” he grinds out. “You’re being dense all because this arsehole has wooed you. Think about it. With the bridle, we could do anything . Maybe…maybe we could even bring back your da.”
I hear her breath catch, her lips parting and her brows shooting up into her hair. Everything inside me says that there’s no way that’s true—there’s no magic in the world powerful enough to bring back the long-dead. But still I see the flash of yearning in her eyes, and I can’t say that I blame her.
“Key,” I call out. “He’s insane. Don’t—”
A sharp kick to my side knocks the air from my lungs, and I fall over, my face smashing into the ground as I groan. Fuck .
“Don’t fucking talk,” Brodie growls.
My lashes flutter open even as my body continues to throb, and I can see from my vantage point that Key no longer looks shocked. No, right now? Right now she looks pissed as hell.
“Don’t touch him,” she says darkly.
Brodie rolls his eyes. “Key, you’re being—”
“I said, don’t fucking touch him,” she repeats louder. “Listen, I don’t know what sort of sick power grab you’re going for here, but Lachlan is not using me. I knew what he was all along. I’ve been helping him because I want to.”
Brodie’s expression morphs with disgust. “Och. You’re not naive, then; you’re bloody stupid. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“And I thought you weren’t a miserable prick, so I guess we’re both surprised.”
I notice Brodie’s fist clench around the knife, and he bristles for a moment before turning on his heel and stomping over to me. He grabs for my hair roughly, yanking up my head, and then I feel the tip of the knife kissing against my throat.
“Fine,” he says. “Tell me where the bridle is. I know the journal must have said.”
“It didn’t,” she protests. “It didn’t say where they put it.”
Brodie scoffs. “You’re lying. You’re a terrible liar, did you know?”
He’s not wrong, unfortunately.
It’s one of the things I love about her, but it’s definitely not doing her any favors right now. Even I can see that she knows something, and I’m pretty sure blood is currently dripping into my eyes.
“Tell me where it is,” Brodie urges as he presses the knife closer to my throat, “or I’m going to use this.”
“If you touch him,” she says with a menacing tone I didn’t even know she had in her, “I’ll fucking kill you myself.”
“As if you could,” Brodie laughs.
Key clenches her fists, jutting out her chin. “I’m not scared of you. You’re just a fucking coward. You’re not going to do a damned thing.”
Brodie is quiet for a moment, his thick body tense with a quiet sort of anger. He finally releases his hold on my hair and stands back up. “Really,” he says coldly. “Let’s see about that.”
Holy fuck, he really is mental.
He’s walking toward a wide-eyed Key with that nasty blade pointed straight at her, and suddenly, I’m seeing red for an entirely different reason. The thought of him hurting her fills me with a burning rage that seems to course through my blood, flooding me with renewed energy, and I pull at the chains on my wrists with everything I can, watching Brodie stalk closer to Key even as she tries to back away.
I roll to my stomach to get a better angle, and then I’m tugging my wrists apart with all my might, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth as I feel the links starting to give way. I’m on my feet and off the ground mere seconds after they snap, rushing Brodie at full speed even with dizziness still assaulting my senses.
He makes a surprised sound when we collide; Brodie falls to the ground near Key, still struggling against my weight and shouting curses all the while. I try to get my hands on his wrist in an attempt to force the knife from his hand, but he lifts his knee into my stomach, and I double over with a groan. He takes advantage of my momentary weakness by rolling away, but before he can completely escape, I grab his ankle and yank him back.
I can feel the unchecked anger ramping up inside me, searing my blood as a roaring sounds in my ears. My fingers prick with the almost painful sensation of my claws forcing their way out, and with the way my skin grows tight, I know that the beast is trying to make its way out.
“Get the fuck away from me, you monster!”
I make another play for Brodie’s knife, and I can hear Key shouting my name from somewhere, but I can’t tear my focus away from this fucker who thought he could threaten her, that he could hurt her. It makes my focus singular as we grapple, and I notice only a second before he jabs the knife up and toward me when I manage to straddle him, grabbing his forearm with both hands as the knife gets caught between him and my belly.
Brodie puts all his strength behind the attempt, and our proximity makes it difficult for me to divert the trajectory of the massive blade. It’s so close that it would slice me across the gut were I to simply jerk it out of his grip, making the possibility of simply using my strength against him less feasible. I can feel it tear my shirt, only inches from my stomach as I grit my teeth, gripping his wrist so tight that it might snap with any more force. There’s a wildness in Brodie’s eyes that seems unhinged, like he has nothing to lose, like he doesn’t care if he walks away from this—as long as he takes me with him.
Part of me feels almost bad for him, because I can’t imagine growing up in a world where my father didn’t love me like he did. I can’t imagine feeling mental because no one believed what I’d seen with my own two eyes. Maybe in better circumstances, Brodie wouldn’t be like this. Maybe we could have even been friends. Maybe he’s just the product of years of bullying and neglect, desperately reaching for what he thinks is his only solution.
But none of that fucking matters, because he tried to hurt Keyanna.
“Look at you,” Brodie spits. “You really are a monster.”
I imagine I must look hellish. Good , I think. He wanted a monster, and now he’s fucking got one.
I lean in closer, still holding his now-trembling wrist, keeping it suspended in place where it sits aimed straight for my stomach. I hear Key shouting my name again, but it’s lost to the rushing of blood thumping in my ears, the roar of the monster that wants to see this man bleed.
“Aye, I’m a monster,” I growl. My lips curve into a smirk, and I bend even farther, allowing the tip of his knife to touch my skin. “And I’ve got you right where I want you.”