31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Charon
The sun has barely crested the hills, spilling gold over the treetops, when we leave the lighthouse come morning.
Damp earth crunches beneath my feet as Hector walks beside me, one hand on his belt to keep his pants up while the other clutches a stick we'd found in the woods earlier.
His leg still drags now and then, and it makes my chest ache, watching him stumble over roots and rocks.
Every time I glance over, though, he just gives me this lopsided smile that cracks my heart in two.
I'll make him a proper walking device when we get home.
Home.
That word sounds foreign in my head.
I’d never imagined it could apply to anything but solitude and silence. The deck of a boat, the echo of my own breath. Sure, there was Nyx when she saw fit to grace me with her presence, but still…it was lonely.
Now, home has a heartbeat. A laugh, a sharp tongue, and the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.
Hector is home .
Last night, I'd gotten the deepest sleep I've ever had in my life.
We'd clung to each other through the darkness, waking slowly before the sun had even risen.
Both our cocks had already been hard, rubbing together as we kissed lazily, and it didn't take long before we were coming all over ourselves again.
If I'd died right at that moment, I would have crossed over a happy man.
“Do you think it's still there?” Hector asks, squinting out into the morning mist clinging to the trees. “Someone could have stolen the boat.”
Glancing at the way his brows pinch in concern, I bring his palm to my lips. “Still there.”
“Yeah? You really think so?”
I nod, not because I know for sure, but because I need to believe it myself.
My fingers twitch just thinking about my mother’s book, the pages creased with memory, a bright light that kept me anchored during my father’s cruelty. During Lena’s experiments.
It’s not about sentiment as much as it is proof that something mattered . That a world once existed beyond the blood and pain. If someone took the only piece of the past I ever gave a damn about…
Well, we’ll figure it out.
Hector takes a deep, shaky breath. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. ”
Zone T is a day's hike on foot, and the path is risky at best, especially with him ambling. He hadn’t argued when I'd whispered where I wanted to go, only started tying the blanket currently slung over my shoulder into a makeshift pack to hold supplies.
Now, with the fog curling low and Nyx circling above, I watch him take each step with a quiet determination that makes me wish I could carry him on my back. I'd tried earlier, but he'd snarled at me.
The sun filters through the trees in broken gold, setting his curls alight, and I have to tear my gaze away before I trip over a rock.
He doesn’t complain once the longer we walk, even when he stumbles or his breath turns shallow.
I think he’s afraid I’ll tell him to turn around, but I won’t.
He deserves to prove himself just as much as anyone else.
We’re heading back into the belly of the beast, but we’re no longer the same men who fled it.
Not anymore.
We reach the top of the waterfall just after sunset.
The cliff juts above the cove, and below, the water glitters in shades of crimson gray. A rusted, paint-covered sign nailed to a tree reads:
WARNING! CONTAMINATED SHORELINE BELOW. DO NOT DRINK. DO NOT SWIM .
Lena’s deception, still clinging to the world. I want to rip it down and burn it, but instead, I pass by, guiding Hector over a patch of loose gravel.
His hand brushes mine as he pulls me to a stop. “Is it okay if we rest here for a bit?”
I nod, tightening my grip on his fingers before easing us down onto a slab of stone. He leans against my shoulder, chest heaving and curls damp with sweat. The hike has been more challenging for him than he wants to admit. I had to force him to take breaks.
While his head rests against me, we stare out past the trees where the mist parts, revealing Zone T’s watchtowers in the distance.
They're still miles off, tall and skeletal, clawing at the sky.
How many times did I watch them from the falls below, filling barrel after barrel and wishing I could see them topple over?
But still, they stand, and so do all the lies.
An angry breath leaves my nostrils as I trace the edges of the sign with my gaze, jaw clenching.
“You okay?” Hector's hand trails over my knee.
I start to nod, but shake my head before pointing at the sign.
He follows my finger, head tilting slightly. “I've seen those all over Aster’s Hollow. Can't read them, but I know they warn about the water.”
Rising to my feet, I reach for it, nails biting into the rotting edge as I rip it from the bark and point to the words bitterly.
Hector watches me carefully. “Lena made them, didn't she?”
All I can do is nod. That's all I ever do.
“She wanted people afraid so they’d need her. Obey her.” He takes the sign from my hands to stare down at it. “She really made people think the infection was in everything? ”
Another fucking nod.
His fingers find the loop of my pants. “And you couldn’t tell anyone otherwise.”
I look away, throat tightening as I open my mouth, then close it when only a painful whisper comes out. Tapping my lips, I trace the scar across my throat. It's the closest I can come to explaining what happened.
“She told me about it.” Hector’s eyes darken with fury. “What she did to your mom. How she…hurt you to keep you quiet.”
My lids sink closed, fists clenching at my sides from raw pain that the memory brings.
“She turned you into a monster while she played the savior. But not to me.” He pulls himself up, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “I saw you, baby. I see you. Just like you saw me.”
His breath ghosts over my jaw, and I gently cup the back of his head as I dip down to kiss him hard, clinging to his warmth.
“I see you,” he repeats, firmer this time.
We devour each other for a long moment, until my lips start to ache and his shirt soaks through with sweat.
Finally, he pulls back, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “We should keep moving.”
Reluctantly, I release him and turn my eyes toward the jagged silhouette of Zone T. Thunder rolls above, the air thickening as if another storm approaches. Our only saving grace is that it won't be red rain, not this time.
Hector stoops to grab his walking stick, casting one last look at the contaminated sign on the ground before kicking it over the edge of the falls. It disappears without making a sound or causing a ripple, taking Lena's memory with it .
“Let's tear the rest down on our way back,” he mutters, grabbing my hand.
This time, I nod with conviction, because we will come back. With our boat, and my mother’s book.
Together.