twelve -Brynn-
twelve
-Brynn-
I try to get off of Ares… and implicitly get him out from inside me, but he just mutters a no, tightening his grip around my back to keep me on top of him for another hour.
That’s how long it takes him to finally wake up and let me escape from the dick prison.
Not that I complain. I’d likely be one of those prisoners who, the second they’re released, go do something stupid just to end up behind bars again.
Ares still doesn’t play nice and barely acknowledges my presence for the rest of the morning while he’s working from his home study.
I know he’s still angry with me. He’ll be angry for a long time, and I’m ready to face the consequences.
I have a feeling I might even enjoy some of them more than intended.
Still, I’m starting to feel like a damn cat in a cage.
I can’t stand still for a second, not even long enough to enjoy our late breakfast or taste the spread laid out on the counter.
Even if the damn thing looks like it’s something out of an all-inclusive resort.
A maid came earlier and set up everything.
I’m so restless that I even offered to help, even though house chores are one of my biggest nightmares.
I mean, I do them, but don’t enjoy it. Besides, I’m not good at arranging things either.
You can say my main specialty is organized chaos.
Ares stays focused on his phone, staring at the screen, like his life depends on it. But no matter how badly he controls himself, not even he can ignore me for that long, considering I’m about to burn a hole through the floor.
“What?” he mutters, keeping the same pissed-off tone. I guess the peace is over, and I’m heading straight into the battlefield.
Though cautiously this time. “Nothing,” I answer, in a not-so-convincing voice. I don’t want to blurt everything out. I’m not even sure I want to tell him how restless I am to get to the real killer because I’m afraid he’ll handcuff me to the radiator again. Probably for the rest of my life.
“Fucking shit, Brynn,” he says, tapping his fingers against the counter like it’s a nervous tell. “You really have a death wish, don’t you?”
I look at him, but don’t answer. Because we both know the truth. I won’t stop.
He takes a short pause, his jaw tightening from the effort of holding himself back. “I’m only doing this because I won’t let you get killed for this shit,” he says, eyes staring through me like he doesn’t even want to see me right now.
“You would do it too if it were your brother or sister. He was like my brother, maybe even more because we weren’t blood related, yet he stood by my side unconditionally in the darkest hours of my life.
” I walk out of the kitchen because I feel tears welling in my eyes, and I don’t want him to see me cry, again.
I’ve been doing that too often lately, even though I never used to be so sensitive.
I was a fortress, building walls to keep everything out…
everyone out. But it’s impossible when it comes to him.
He just slipped into a corner of my soul without caring about the walls; without asking permission.
I return to the kitchen a few moments later, pretending I only went to the bedroom to grab a hoodie. Somehow, being cold at 75°F seems like the most plausible excuse I could come up with.
Ares skipped the orange juice and went for something stronger, staring at a glass of whiskey on the rocks as I come in. “Tell me what you have now,” he mutters, giving in, but trying not to make a big deal out of it.
I play along, keeping my calm and preparing myself to talk about this like it didn’t represent the end of my world.
I would have never imagined us at this point, not after what I did to him… after how wrong I was. In time, I’ll make things right again.
I tell him everything, from how we escaped the asylum, moved in together, to the moment I found Elias dead. The pain. The anger that followed. The blind need for revenge that almost cost me everything. I just hope that didn’t cost me him. Of course, I leave that last part out.
He hears me out without interrupting, without asking too many questions, absorbing every piece of relevant information, and putting it together into a bigger picture.
It’s way easier to miss a hint when you’re that close to the victim.
But I didn’t expect I’d be the one who missed such an important piece of the puzzle.
He pours himself another glass of whiskey. “Your Elias was never in the game. He never showed up at the motel.” Ares takes a seat at the kitchen island. “He was replaced by Matt Harris, a lowlife who used to sell meth to kids. My memory never fails me.”
It takes me a second to process everything, like every piece of information I had before was wrong, and every assumption I made was false. Almost making me doubt my own judgment.
“So that means it’s someone on the inside,” Ares continues, as I’m still baffled by the news. “Someone who knows about the game, since Elias was wearing the uniform when he died,” he says, mapping out all possible suspects in his head.
“I think our best starting point is 404,” I murmur, trying to piece things together.
Ares gives me a look before I even finish saying his name.
I just told him about how 404 helped me and Elias get in.
So I’m not sure he’s off his kill list yet.
“Listen, I have an idea regarding him. I’m not sure you’re gonna like it, but it’ll help with everything, including keeping Kharon running at its best.”
I know he doesn’t like that I have a plan for 404, but that doesn’t mean he’s not interested. After all, Kharon means almost everything to him.
“I’m listening,” he says, his full focus on me.
“Okay, we both know 404 is the best. None of your hackers compare to him. Not even all of them put together. So we still need him. Kharon still needs him.”
“Your point…” he says, impatient with all my babbling.
“Well, I was thinking we keep him… sort of… in a way that everyone is happy and make sure he never messes up. But for that, we’ll need to let him go.”
“What?” Ares snaps, considering I’ve gone too far. I know I’m going too far, but my solution is the best for now.
“Hear me out.” I begin, feeling the weight of his gaze on me.
“I’m not sure if he’d work for you again.
I mean, sure, you could convince him, but if you keep him locked up in the basement for the rest of his life, he’ll eventually stop paying interest, fuck up, and that mistake could cost you a lot more than just a good executant. ”
I take a breath, building my case. “So I was thinking of some kind of deal. We make him train your other hackers. Like teach them everything they need to know. And after they’re set, we let him go…
on the condition that he’s always at your disposal if your people run into trouble.
I mean, he can do this long distance; he could live wherever he wants.
He won’t risk going off-grid, and you sending people after him.
He’ll collaborate. That way, everyone wins. ”
I lock eyes with Ares, gauging his reaction. “404 won’t have the murders on his conscience, and you’ll have the best possible team available.” While I’ll get to keep my promise of boarding him on a plane out of here.
Ares draws in a deep breath like he’s about to say something, but my plan is flawless. He gets to keep 404 at full capacity.
That only makes him have another sip of whiskey, then rise from his chair and head toward the door.
What the hell is he doing?
“Where are you going?”
“Where we are going… come on.” He heads down the basement stairs, then starts walking down the corridor.
I follow, but at a slower pace, which only makes him turn back and scoop me into his arms, carrying me all the way to the hidden door behind the wine rack, muttering something about how he doesn’t have all day to wait for me to get there.
I know he’s really just trying to be nice. I’ll take it like this for now.
Ares bursts into the room, making 404 jump off his bed and hitting his already injured arm on the wall.
“Fuck,” he groans, grabbing his arm as pain shoots through him, forcing him to bite down on a pillow.
It takes a few moments for him to recover, and when he does, it’s only so that he can stare fearfully at Ares, like he’s expecting him to put a bullet through his brain the next second.
Judging by the annoyance on Ares’ face, I’m not sure he won’t, but I’m hoping he sticks to the plan, and we get real information out of 404.
I walk beside Ares, slipping a hand on his shoulder. He stiffens under my touch, but lets me take the lead. I waste no time in proposing to 404 exactly what I discussed with Ares. That’s how I get to keep my promise of helping him walk away, and at the same time, I’m also helping Ares and myself.
404 agrees instantly. He’s smart enough to know he’s got no other choice except a bullet between his eyes. This is his only salvation, and he takes it.
Ares doesn’t want to waste time, so he calls for one of his men to bring 404’s laptop.
In the meantime, I give him everything I know about Elias and how I found him in the woods, his chest slashed open by a sword.
The retelling brings tears to 404's eyes. He just found out yesterday that Elias was dead, and the details carry almost as much pain as the news itself. But it’s only when we all know the whole truth that we can piece everything together.
Just in time for one of Ares’ men to come in with the laptop.
404’s hands grip the edge of the bed, in hopes of smothering the pain so he can talk.
Truth is, nothing makes this easy. “Ares is right. Elias never showed up for Kharon. We had to get his replacement in. We always have a backup for our players. Some of them don’t feel too keen on dying for money, so we have to make sure the game goes on without them. ”