Chapter 26 Reed
Reed
The morning light filters in through the windows of the dining room and for once it's a bright sunny morning at Wolfston. It feels like the estate is grinning, the gloom burned away by the bloody triumph of the night.
Baptiste blood soaks the ground, a fresh layer of liquid fertilizer for the ground.
Its scent is thick in the air, a perfume of victory.
The family is gathered, the typical tension replaced by familial chatter.
Even my father is smiling, a genuine, almost terrifying smirk as he claps Zacariah on the shoulder.
Proud of what his children have accomplished.
We did accomplish it. We gutted them. We turned their petty ambush into their own slaughter. All of us unified for the first time in recent memory.
My eyes don't linger on my siblings or father for long.
They find him.
Cooper.
He's standing at the window a few feet away, bathed in the morning sun.
There are a few bruises on his arms, a cut across his cheekbone but instead of hampering his beauty, the imperfections only amplify it.
His skin is pale and straw-blonde hair shines in the light.
His chest is rising and falling faster than normal, but that's to be expected when the adrenaline is still coursing through your veins.
In his hand, he holds a scalpel—my scalpel—like it's an extension of who he is now.
He's the most breathtaking man I've ever seen.
He's not the frightened mouse I chased through the Minnesota woods.
He's no longer the naive student stitching my arm in the ER.
The transformation is absolute and complete.
He embraced the darkness we offered him, mirroring a hunger that rivals my own.
He moved with grace and thought like a predator, outcunning those beasts.
My father follows my gaze, his smile telling me all I need to know. He knows I was right. The potential that I saw in Cooper has been realized. The heir to the estate did not return with a helpless puppy, he brought back an equal that can bite back.
Cooper's breath-stealing blue eyes meet mine. In them, I see no horror, no regret for the lives we ended. I see a fierce pride.
My chest tightens with a possessiveness the longer I stare at him. He is my masterpiece. My deranged, lethal creation. My equal.
Candace interrupts the chatter of the room, "Alright, so now that we've learned that we can't depend on the council and our extended family in the time of need, what do we do next? The six of us?"
She grins, a wicked smile, and her gaze landing on Cooper.
And God, does that mean the world to me.
The six of us.
Not the five Quinn siblings. Not the bloodline and the outside.
The six of us. She included him. And not as a tool, or an wanted guest, or my reckless indulgence.
She counted him. She accepted him into the family.
Into the core. The final, unbreakable seal of approval from my eldest sister, who's opinion is even more important than my fathers.
A feeling I can't put my lips to, surges in my chest, similar to immense pride.
It's more potent than slaughtering that last Baptiste.
I look at Cooper and see the same realization dawning in his eyes, a slight, stunned widening before his expression settles into one of acceptance.
He gives a strong, single nod, accepting her words.
"The six of us," I repeat, my voice rumbling across the room. I step forward, standing beside Cooper, my shoulder brushing his. "We do what we have always done. We cleanse the world of those that no longer deserve to breathe. And if we have to be self-sufficient, so be it."
My elderly father watches, his arms crossed. He says nothing, ceding the stage. This is my vision to articulate. The heir's first true speech.
"We don't need the council's permission, or their resources.
Our investment fund is more than sufficient to fund our own missions and protection.
Their loyalty is fickle. What we have between us is stronger than all of the cousins combined.
" I let my eyes sweep over everyone: Candace, lethal and amused; Zacariah, a true Quinn with an unrelenting thirst for death; the twins, smiling deviously as they twiddle their thumbs.
And Cooper, my brilliant, bloody weapon.
"If they stand in our way of justice, then we will take them out. But first, we work through our backlog of targets. And Candace—we would appreciate a heads-up if they have supernatural tendencies."
A ripple of dark laughter moves through the room, including my own chuckle. The memory of the Forest Siren's cave, of fresh skulls and a blazing bonfire, is fresh in my mind. We are hunters that need to be adequately prepared.
"Noted," Candace says, her eyes glazed with lethality. "Due diligence from here on out. I'll have the first batch of files on your desk by tonight. Low-hanging fruit. A hairy cult in Northern Idaho, a child-trafficking ring in Chicago."
My eyes flick back to Cooper. This is it. Our future together. Full of mayhem and chaos. No more training, just glorious execution. This is the grind. The unglamorous and unrecognized nature of our work. The vital, sewage cleaners of humanity.
Life couldn't be more perfect.
The thought lands in my brain as gentle as the destruction of red blood cells in my spleen.
I look at Cooper, my Cooper, already deep in conversation with Candace, his fingers tracing routes on a map of downtown Chicago.
The morning sun accentuates the cut on his cheek, a badge of honor earned in the brutal reality of our existence.
He is no longer a trainee or a pet project.
He is my partner in crime and death. My equal.
A force of nature who can match my ruthlessness.
My father's grudging approval is a foundation laid for my legacy as heir.
My siblings, once fragmented and skeptical of my return, are now a cohesive unit, their trust in my judgement earned from last night's blood.
And at the center of it all is my brilliant, blonde sun around which my dark heart now orbits.
He glances up from the map, feeling the presence of my eyes on him. The pupils—once wide with a thrilling, na?ve fear—now hold a killer's confidence. He gives me a burning smile, a promise of the chaos and carnage we will unleash together.
There is no more conflict. No more division between the man who saves lives in the ER and the past that ended them. They are one and the same. The scalpel and the dagger are different tools for the same purpose: to cut away what does not belong.
This is the peace I didn't know I was missing. Not the absence of conflict, but the presence of absolute purpose. A life roiled with violence and devotion.
Cooper finishes with Candace and walks back to me, his steps confident. He slides his hand into mine, his grip firm.
This, I think, as I look at our joined hands, then out at the thawing, blood-drenched grass of the estate. Is where I am meant to be. This is it.
A family that understands. A cause that some may consider brutal, but we consider necessary. And a man at my side that embraces this dark abyss.
Life couldn't be more perfect.
We are just getting started on all of the pristine, bloody work to come.
I look over at his dazzling blue eyes, the ones that entirely enthrall me. "I have the perfect Christmas present for you."