Dylan POV
It was all a lie. Everything.
Years I’ve spent doing things for my father, pretending not to know him to get what he needed, sacrificing friendships, relationships, my own happiness, and all along it was the plan?
The document I saw was from months ago, and it mentioned my brother taking over. So me? I’m such a fool. No doubt when I was a teen he saw how small I was and decided to use me instead.
It makes sense now. He’d always said I would take over when I’m twenty-one. It then got pushed back, again and again, because he was waiting for my brother to be old enough.
So all I was to him was an object to use to gain information. I know this isn’t on Blaze but him knowing before me… I fucking hate that. I end up sitting in a bar drinking because I don’t know what the fuck to do now.
I can’t go to my apartment. It’s my father’s. I have fucking nothing. Beside the money in my pocket, I have nothing.
So all I can do right now is drink, and drink, while hoping my life somehow fixes itself and I find the right fucking path to take.
The bar is dim and quiet, the kind of place where people go to forget.
I’m on my fifth drink, staring at the amber liquid in the glass like it holds all the answers I don’t have.
My hands are still shaking from earlier, from the way my father looked at me like I was disposable.
From the way Blaze looked at me like I was a fool for not seeing.
I take another sip, the burn down my throat doing nothing to dull the ache in my chest. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought hiding who I was, marrying Allana, taking over, I thought it was my duty. My purpose. Now it feels like I’ve been living someone else’s life the entire time.
The worst part is the guilt. Blaze almost died because of me. Because my father found out. Because I was too scared to tell the truth sooner. I keep replaying the look on his face when he realized who I was. The anger. The hurt. The betrayal.
I finish the drink and signal for another. The bartender doesn’t ask questions. Good. I don’t have any answers anyway.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now? I have no home. No family. No future. The only thing I had left was Blaze, and I pushed him away too. I told him to get the fuck out of my life like an idiot.
I rub my face, trying to push the memories away, but they keep coming. The way he pinned me to the wall. The way he kissed me like he was terrified of losing me. The way he looked at me when I walked away.
I’m such a fucking coward.
Another drink slides in front of me. I stare at it for a long moment before picking it up. Maybe if I drink enough, the pain will go away. Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll forget how badly I fucked everything up.
But deep down I know it won’t work. The truth is still there, sitting heavy in my chest.
I was never the heir.
I was never even the son.
I was just a tool.
And now I have nothing left.
I end up checking into a hotel when the bar closed and drinking more. Taking out the phone I hit the name. I need answers. I need the truth.
“Dylan, I thought I made you aware, you leave that’s it.”
“I don’t want fuck all, I w-w-w-want answers.”
He sighs like I’m annoying.
“You owe me that.”
“Fine. What answers?”
What do I want to know? I think about it for a long moment, my head spinning from the alcohol and the pain in my chest. “W-w-was I ever going to take over?”
“Yes, the whole plan was to keep you hidden and you take over.”
“Then when did it change and why not tell me?”
“I began considering changing it when you were about seven. Stuttering in our world isn’t good. It’s a sign of weakness.”
“I f-f-fucking worked to fix it!”
“But emotions make it come out.”
“Seven?” I ask, needing to hear it again, my voice cracking.
“Yes, Dylan.”
“Then why lie? Why make out like I could still take over?”
He sighs. “I was still considering it, watching how your speech went. But you weren’t into things most men are. You hated sport, you… you’re not exactly manly.”
“W-w-what does that mean?”
“It means you’re too small, you’re too weak. So by the time you were twelve or thirteen I knew you wouldn’t take over.”
So he lied to me for years. “Then why not just let me come home?”
“Because you were more use hidden. Think of all the places you went, all the information you got. Your size, how unsuspecting you look, it made doors open and people talk.”
“So I was never really your son.”
“You were. If you weren’t you wouldn’t have been protected so well. Our world can’t have weaknesses. Not even something or someone who looks like one.”
I want to shout I’m not a weakness, but for my entire life he used me, which proves I am.
“Let your friends know they are off my radar. You walked away so there’s no need for me to retaliate against them. Your brother has the same order. Unless they step out of line, we don’t have a connection.”
The call ends and I stare at the wall. He confirmed it all.
I sit here for a long time, the phone still in my hand, the room spinning slightly from the alcohol. My chest feels tight, like something is crushing me from the inside. All those years. All the times I tried to make him proud. All the times I pushed down who I was to be the perfect hidden heir.
It was never real.
I was never real to him.
Just a tool. A useful shadow. A way to get information no one else could.
I laugh bitterly, the sound hollow in the empty hotel room. The laugh turns into something closer to a sob, and I press the heel of my hand against my eyes, trying to stop it. I won’t cry for him. I won’t.
But the tears come anyway.
I was never going to take over. He knew it when I was a child. He kept lying to me for years, letting me believe I had a purpose, a future, while planning to give it to my brother the whole time.
And Blaze knew before me.
That hurts more than anything else. The man I pushed away, the man I told to get the fuck out of my life, knew the truth before I did. He tried to tell me. He tried to warn me.
And I walked away from him too.
I curl up on the bed, still in my clothes, the empty bottles on the nightstand staring at me like judgment. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I have no home. No family. No future.
Just this empty room and the crushing weight of every lie I’ve lived.
I’m not sure what time it is. When I woke this morning I came to a bar and sat drinking. I’ve been here all day. I just need the time to figure out my plan.
Where do I go now? I thought my life was set out in stone. Now I’m fucking lost and confused. I think I’ve drank too much, but I can’t bring myself to give a shit.
“Well, look who it is.”
I glance up and squint. Grim. Fuck. Groaning, my head falls forward.
He chuckles and sits down. “Woah, groaning? Am I that bad?”
“I’m not in the mood to talk.”
“Just drink?” he asks and I nod. Finishing my drink I place it down and he fills it up with the bottle I bought that’s sitting on the table. “You look like you’ve had too many.”
“Not enough. I’ve not had enough,” I state.
“Yeah? Let’s make a deal. If you can stand up straight for ten seconds you can keep going. If you stagger or fall, or sway you let me take you back to wherever you’re staying so you’re safe.”
I laugh. Safe? When was I ever fucking safe.
“Well?” He nudges my glass.
“Sure, but when I’m standing strong you pay for my drinks, all night.”
“Sure thing Romeo, up you get.”
I stand and sway instantly, my body tilts and he grabs me.
“Where are you staying? You can’t walk there.”
I shrug. “Keycard is in my pocket somewhere.”
He hums and searches before pulling the card out and looking. “Right, let’s go.” He drags me out of the bar and down the street. My body rests against him, not by choice but because I'm drunk, too fucking drunk.
When we get to the hotel he asks the staff what room I’m staying in and guides me into it. Everything is spinning. But nothing feels good. There’s still that heaviness in my chest that hurts.
I feel like I have no control, at all. Not of my life, not of anything right now.
“Sleep it off, you’re going to regret drinking so much tomorrow.” He shoves me backward and I fall but he grabs me before I can hit the floor.
“Shit, forgot you can’t stand straight,” he laughs and steps back. I reach up and grab the back of his neck pulling him down to kiss me.
He laughs and I just kiss him harder, trying to feel something, anything.
“Okay, I’m really trying not to take advantage of this situation.”
“Take advantage, I don’t care,” I slur, pulling at my own shirt and throwing it down.
“Dylan,” he warns, but I ignore him, pulling at his shirt and kissing again. He groans this time and pins me against the wall. Heat floods through my body, but my mind is still so fucking messed up.
My hands move to his belt and he chuckles. “Seriously?”
“Y-yes!” I stutter, fighting to get his trousers off. I just need to feel something. I need to forget the way my father looked at me like I was worthless. I need to forget the way Blaze looked at me when I walked away. I need to forget that I have nothing left.
Grim’s hands slide down my sides, his mouth moving against mine as he finally gives in.
I moan into the kiss, desperate and broken, my fingers fumbling with his belt until I get it open.
I push his trousers down, needing more, needing to lose myself completely in this moment so I don’t have to think about how empty my life is now.
He presses me harder against the wall, his body warm and solid against mine, and for a second it almost feels good. Almost feels like I can breathe again.
But the heaviness in my chest is still there. The pain is still there.
I kiss him harder, trying to drown it out.