Chapter 4 #2
My throat worked. I scanned the space quickly, seeing nothing and backtracking to the door.
Screams were filling downstairs, and I knew Viktor was more than likely already gone.
He would’ve seen Creed and bolted, the coward.
I was one step out of my old room before I caught sound of a muffled cry coming from the closet.
I froze, my eyes widening. I hurried across the creaky floor and crouched, gently sliding the pocket door open.
“Hey,” I whispered as I found a little boy curled in its back corner, hugging himself.
I forced what I hoped was a sweet smile and extended a hand.
“It’s okay. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.
” He shifted, sniffing, but he didn’t take my hand, his body visibly shaking.
He was so young, and I realized faintly that I recognized him.
“Henry?” I asked. His picture had been on his Missing Kid posters. “Is that your name?”
He peered at me, confused.
“I’m Arden,” I said. I hesitated before pointing to the bed. “This used to be my room. I lived here before you.”
His tight grip on himself loosened subtly.
He shifted some more, some of the moonlight piercing the bedroom window glowing over him.
My breath caught, my heart breaking at the sight of his throat.
It was terribly scarred, the wound obviously recent.
It was haphazardly stitched, the skin an angry mix of mottled colors.
“Can…can you hear me?” I asked, my eyes tracing his face.
He nodded a little before he froze, his face scrunching in pain, the movement tugging at his wound.
“Here,” I whispered, my voice cracking. I gently took one of his hands and tapped it once. “This means no, okay? And this—” I tapped him twice. “Means yes.”
He tapped me twice, and I couldn’t help my unsteady breath.
“Good,” I told him and grinned. “Henry, I want to save you. I want to take you from this place so you can meet my friend. He doesn’t talk either, but he can with his hands. He can teach you how. Would you like that?”
He scooted forward a little. Then he tapped me twice again.
“Okay.” I extended my arms. “Can I carry you? We need to move fast.”
He didn’t bother tapping me. He just ducked forward, crashing into my chest and wrapping his thin arms around my neck.
I stiffened at first, my heart fucking imploding, before I scooped him up and held him with one arm, tugging my lighter out with my free hand.
The small tink sounded, and Henry looked down, the blue of his eyes glistening at the sight of the dancing flame.
Gently, I held the lighter out toward him, and he took it in his grasp as I walked us toward the bed.
I crouched low enough that he could reach, and I bit my tongue against a cry.
He set it aflame without any direction, tears sliding down his cheeks.
I carefully took the lighter from him and stepped back when the bed caught.
I rocked him instinctively, my arm firm around his back, my other hand cradling his head as the fire consumed the last physical proof that pain had once owned that space.
The crackle of it filled the room, and I stood there with Viktor's next billion dollar asset in my arms, breathing through the heat, through the weight lifting inch by inch from my chest. I watched the flames climb higher, licking along the footboard where my ankles had once been tied, the wood blackening where both Alex and I had carved tally marks into the frame with shaking fingers. Each line we’d scratched there had been a quiet promise to survive, that time would keep moving even when it felt like the world had stopped inside that room, and now the fire erased them one by one, swallowing the proof of how long we’d endured, taking the pain with it.
I thought I heard Alex sob then behind the grave, and I sobbed too, letting my chin tuck against Henry’s shoulder.
The curtains caught next, the same thin fabric that had once fluttered beside the window where I used to press my forehead against the glass and watch Thorne ride past on his motorcycle, the first person who ever made me realize there was more to a body than being abused.
All the places I’d hide stolen treasures in the corners of the room, bits of ribbon, smooth stones, or anything really that made me feel like a normal kid for just a second—the fire devoured those places too.
I took slow steps back with Henry, watching the flames spread across every surface that had once held my childhood captive, the heat growing stronger, the smoke curling thick in the air.
The bed broke inward with a loud crack, sparks flying as the structure finally gave way, and I knew that in time the fire would crawl down the hall as well, that it would find Viktor’s room, then every locked door that had kept me trapped, and that all of it would be swallowed whole by the same rage that had burned inside me for years.
The house wasn’t winning anymore. For once, it demanded nothing of us anymore.
Henry dragged his gaze away from the flames, his eyes glistening.
The fire reflected there, catching in his tears and turning them luminous, was fierce instead of broken.
I felt his grip tighten instinctively, his body leaning into mine as if he needed reassurance that destruction could be chosen instead of endured.
Snot dribbled from his nose, and I wiped it away with my thumb before using my knuckle to brush away his tears.
Then he grinned a little before reaching up and doing the same to me.
Five. He was only five years old, and he understood. Viktor had him for just three weeks, and—He. Understood.
The Buyers that were still standing from Kane’s rampage had fled.
When Henry and I worked our way downstairs, smoke curling at our backs and following us down as I dragged my lighter along the wallpaper, Kane was waiting despite my order to leave.
He took one look at Henry and let a wide smile unfurl, the first genuine one I’d seen him manage in years.
Unfortunately, Kane was covered in blood and surrounded by dead Buyers.
“Quit smiling,” I hissed, clicking shut my lighter. “You’re going to give him nightmares.”
“Nah.” Kane trailed behind us, his smile still bright as Henry watched him from over my shoulder. “Kid knows good monsters from bad, don’t you?” I couldn’t see Henry, but I felt his small hands clutch my jacket tighter. He patted my shoulder twice, and I blew out a breath.
“Seems he likes you,” I threw over my shoulder. We jogged down the steps into the courtyard, Rafe standing at the edge of the garden, kids peering out from behind him.
“Like calls to like, Arden,” Kane said, but his expression fell when he saw Henry’s throat. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” I said. I moved to set Henry down, but he just held on tighter.
“Okay. That’s okay. I got you,” I murmured, pressing my hand against the back of his head and walked to Rafe.
I adjusted Henry on my hip, Rafe taking us in with a curious gleam in his eyes.
I tapped Henry’s back. “Hey buddy, this is my friend I told you about that can talk with his hands. His name is Rafe."
Rafe read my lips, my hands too full to sign. His brow furrowed before he saw Henry’s throat. His face paled, and he jolted back a step as if he’d been struck.
“He can hear, but his throat hurts too much to talk. I taught him the taps,” I said.
Rafe’s stricken expression fell away, his features softening. Of course you did, beautiful, he signed despite the pain in his hands, his eyes glistening. Beautiful. He’d finally called me beautiful again.
“Rafe?” I asked, and he closed the distance.
He wrapped an arm around me, tugging both Henry and me close.
Kane leaned his shoulder into Rafe’s, all of us turning toward the estate.
The kids crowded around us, a little girl grabbing hold of Kane’s middle finger.
He lifted her up, tucking her curls behind an ear, and settled her on his hip.
He pointed at the burning monument of our past. “Look, it’s a wildfire,” he said, the little girl beaming.
I held Henry tighter. “Yeah,” I said hoarsely, Rafe rubbing circles against my back with one hand and on Henry’s with the other. “It is, isn’t it?”
We drove back toward New York after contacting Mickey and delivered the kids to a Raven orphanage.
It took hours before I got Henry to let me go, and honestly, I needed that time too.
Eventually, I pried his grip from my jacket and sat him down in the playroom with the other kids.
He grabbed my face when I did, his fingers pressing into my cheeks.
He gave me a hard look, so serious that I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I can’t stay,” I told him, and his eyes watered.
“No. No crying,” I whispered and gently took his hands from my face, cupping them between mine.
“Just look around Henry. You’re safe here.
There’s toys, and you’ll have your own bed.
There’s even a backyard with a play set.
The Ravens will take really good care of you. I promise.”
He wrenched his hands out of mine and tapped my chin once. No.
“What if I told you I’m leaving because I have to hunt Viktor? The man who did this to you,” I asked and gently touched his scar.
Henry folded his arms, his bottom lip pushing out.
“Okay, you’re just cute and you know it.
That’s so not fair,” I complained. He grinned a little, and I gasped.
“You little devil!” I exclaimed and tugged him toward me, tickling his sides.
I stopped though as soon as a sharp cry of pain left him.
I hadn’t thought about how tickling would make him laugh and how much that would hurt his throat.
I hugged him tight. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s okay.”