Chapter 26 #3
The hammer came down on the officer’s left wrist. Blood sprayed across Callum’s chest, dotting the pristine black of his shirt with crimson.
“You’re being tedious,” Callum said, wiping a speck of blood from the fabric. “And I have a very busy schedule today.”
From her position on the table, Shadera finally spoke. “Maybe he needs more motivation.” Her voice carried a cruel edge that sent a shiver through the room. “I could start removing pieces. Ears first, perhaps?”
Callum smiled. He liked her more than he’d expected to. There was something refreshing about her directness, her lack of pretense.
“An excellent suggestion,” he agreed, watching Marcus’s face drain of color. “Though I was thinking of moving to larger targets.” He placed the hammer against his jaw, applying just enough pressure to promise pain.
“Wait!” His voice cracked. “Wait, please—I don’t know specifics. It’s classified within lower Veyra ranks.”
“But you do know general plans,” Callum pressed.
“Yes.” Marcus’s head dropped, defeat evident in the slump of his shoulders. “Population adjustment. I don’t know anything else.”
“You’re lying,” Callum said softly, raising the hammer.
“I’m not—”
The hammer crashed down onto Marcus’s other kneecap with devastating force.
The scream that followed was primal, tearing from his throat as his body convulsed against the restraints.
Blood and fragments of bone sprayed across the floor, some landing on Callum’s boots.
The visceral display of violence didn’t faze him.
He’d done worse, much worse, in rooms similar to this one across the Heart.
“You have more fingers, another elbow, and various other appendages to work with,” Callum said once the screaming subsided to whimpers. “How much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice for Maximus Serel?”
The officer’s face had gone gray with pain, sweat beading on his forehead. “You don’t understand,” he gasped. “He’ll kill my family if I talk.”
“He’ll kill everyone if you don’t,” Shadera interjected, sliding off the table and gesturing her head toward Callum. She approached the chair, crouching to meet Marcus’s gaze. “Including your family.”
Callum wouldn’t, actually. He had a strict moral code even if flawed. No children, no women. But if it helped to get information, he’d let Shadera use the threat.
“We know about the bombs. Give us details,” Shadera replied, putting pressure on his shattered knee.
Marcus hissed in pain as Callum’s eyes shot to her. She already knew about the bombs. He’d only learned about them yesterday in his interrogation with Davish. What else does she know?
“The . . . bombs . . .” Marcus’s breath came in shallow pants. “They aren’t normal. They’re designed specifically for the rings.”
Callum felt his stomach twist. “What kind are they?”
“Incendiary. Gas. Things that will destroy human life but leave buildings standing.” His words tumbled out now, pain and fear loosening his tongue.
“The President says the rings have become too populated, too unmanageable. He’s been testing them on the Cardinal workers, t-that’s why they haven’t gone home.
They’re dead. They’re all dead. He’s calling it The Culling. ”
The Culling.
Callum’s hand tightened around the hammer’s handle until his knuckles ached.
“When?” Greyson demanded, stepping forward. “When is this Culling scheduled to begin?”
“I-I don’t know. I just know it’s happening. T-that they have perfected the gas.”
“And the deployment plan?” Callum pressed. “Which sectors are targeted first?”
The officer hesitated, his gaze darting between the three of them. “All of it. The gas was created with mapping molecules. It’s designed to stop at the Heart’s border.”
Callum’s eyes met Greyson’s, fear passing between them. This was worse than anything he had expected, anything he could have imagined. This was hundreds of thousands of people. Men, women, and children.
“Why?” Shadera asked, her voice strained. “Why would he do this?”
Marcus’s jaw clenched. “He is making room for something.”
Greyson went perfectly still, a dangerous energy radiating from him.
Callum opened his mouth to press for more details, hammer raised and ready to strike when a voice came from the doorway.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, horror evident in every syllable. She stood frozen, taking in the blood spattered floor, the bound and broken officer, the hammer in Callum’s hand.
The three of them stared at her, caught in a tableau of violence.
Callum lowered the hammer slowly, shame burning through him at being discovered like this.
Not the torture itself—he’d long ago reconciled himself to the necessity of such actions—but that Lira, of all people, should see this side of him.
The side he’d worked so hard to keep away from her.
“Lira.” Greyson recovered first, stepping forward. “How’d you get in here?”
She held up a cluster of keys, her hand trembling slightly.
“I used my key. No one answered when I called or knocked, but I knew you were home.” Her eyes moved from Greyson to Shadera, then finally settled on Callum, lingering on the blood that covered his clothes, his hands, his face. “What is this?”
Callum couldn’t bear the way she looked at him, as if seeing a stranger wearing the face of someone she trusted. He set the hammer down on the table, wishing he could wipe away the evidence of what he’d been doing, what he was capable of.
“We needed information,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “Information that could save thousands of lives.”
Lira’s eyes moved to Marcus, whose consciousness seemed to be fading, his head lolling forward as blood continued to pool beneath his shattered knees.
“By torturing a Veyra officer in my brother’s apartment?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.
“Li,” Greyson began, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture.
“Don’t ‘Li’ me,” she snapped. “How long has this been going on? How long have you been . . .” She gestured at the scene before her, apparently unable to find words adequate to describe what she was seeing.
Callum felt something crack inside him. The careful wall he’d built between his life as Callum Thane, charming owner of Heart entertainment venues, and his other life—the one filled with blood and information and desperate measures—was crumbling before his eyes.
And with it, any hope that Lira could see him as anything but the monster he truly was.
The weight of her gaze burned through him as he wiped his hands on a cloth, the blood smearing rather than cleaning, a fitting metaphor for the moment. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the wet, labored breathing of the Veyra officer strapped to the chair.
“We should move to the living room,” Callum suggested, his voice unnaturally calm. He glanced at Greyson, seeking some confirmation, some direction. Greyson only nodded.
“What about him?” Shadera asked, gesturing toward the bloodied officer with a tilt of her head.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Greyson replied, his tone flat.
Lira flinched at the words, her shoulders drawing tight beneath her elegant dress.
She stepped back from the doorway, allowing them to file past her.
Callum moved last, pausing beside her with words of explanation or comfort ready on his tongue.
But when he met her eyes through the openings in her mask, the words died.
There was no explanation he could offer that would erase what she’d seen, no comfort that wouldn’t sound like a lie.
The living room still bore the marks of violence.
Though the bodies were now gone, the furniture placed upright and glass swept up, his cleaning crew still worked methodically, removing bloodstains from every surface.
One worker was carefully replacing a shattered mirror, while another scrubbed at dark patches on the kitchen floor.
They studiously avoided looking at the four of them as they entered the room, their training ensuring that nothing they witnessed would ever be repeated outside these walls.
Callum sank into an armchair, suddenly aware of the dried blood flaking from his clothes, his hands, beneath his fingernails.
Lira chose the farthest seat from him, perching on the edge of a sofa as if ready to flee at any moment.
Greyson remained standing, his posture stiff, while Shadera claimed a spot on the arm of a chair next to Greyson, her body language suggesting casual indifference despite the tension filling the room.
“There were Veyra officers in the apartment last night,” Greyson began without preamble, his voice controlled. “We dealt with them. The one we are interrogating, Callum found surveilling us on his way here to help clean up the mess.”
Callum watched as Lira’s posture shifted in understanding.
“And the torture?” Lira asked, turning back to her brother. “Was that your idea?”
“Mine,” Callum spoke before Greyson could answer. “We needed information. About your father’s plans.”
Greyson’s head turned toward Callum, the motion sharp and sudden. “Speaking of plans,” he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge, “when were you going to tell me you’ve been helping the rebellion?”
The question hung in the air between them, years of friendship suddenly caught in their secrets.
Callum didn’t immediately answer, weighing his response carefully.
The truth was, he’d never planned to tell Greyson.
Not because he didn’t trust him, but because knowledge was dangerous in the Heart.
What Greyson didn’t know, he couldn’t betray—willingly or otherwise.
“That’s fucking rich coming from you,” Shadera cut in, a harsh laugh escaping her.
Lira turned toward her. “What does that mean?”