Chapter 14 | Blind Obedience
Sebastian
W hen Jude left, things were a blur. I had to make her hate me to get her to go, and it almost killed me to go through with it. Afterwards, between booze and any drugs that Dom would give me, I threw myself into numbing the pain. I dug myself into a pit of depression, and for a long time, I wasn’t sure I would get out of it.
It didn’t help that every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Jude’s face and how devastated she was when we broke up. Between that and the faces of my targets constantly flashing through my mind, I’m not sure I deserve forgiveness then, or now. But since Jude’s come home, I’ve been noticing small changes in myself. The biggest one is I’ve started caring more, and I’m reaching for the bottle less. I’ve even set a new personal record in our Rogue training.
It's why I need to remind myself to appear indifferent at breakfast with my parents. You would think being vulnerable with them is a good thing, but when your mother is Alyssa Vance, it's something that only leads to problems.
The morning light casts a glow on the oak floors in the dining room, emphasized by the crystal chandelier. In the center of the room, my parents are already at the long mahogany table eating their breakfast while they discuss business. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee greets me as I find the sideboard table with breakfast options, and I help myself to the smoked salmon, deciding to make it a lox bagel. Grabbing a chocolate croissant to go with it, I find a seat at the table as far away from my parents as I can get.
Things seem more strained between them than normal. I’ve known for a while that my parents weren’t a love match, but to see them so openly advertise it, is odd, even for them. Mom looks nicer than normal, and I wonder what the occasion is, even if I won’t dare ask. A tailored suit won’t hide the evil person she is. Snippets of their conversation drift over to me. “Consulting is doing well, David. Did you see the new case?” I finish my croissant and move onto the bagel.
I zone out until their conversation is only a murmur in the back of my mind, even if now and then something else slips through. “Did you hear about the missing humans, Alyssa?” I see Mom nod out of the corner of my eye as I help myself to another coffee. “Yes, I did, and Eric assured me they’re not a result of his rampage.”
Determined to enjoy my breakfast even if they’re there, I get comfortable in the plush high-back chair of deep burgundy velvet and happily munch on my lox bagel, wondering if I should go for a second round of breakfast.
When my mom ordered me to get close to Jude again, I wondered if it was a test, to see if she could trust me; because trust is vital in our line of business. I’m positive she never meant for my feelings to get in the way. Sure, she knows about our past. In fact, I think she’s counting on it, but she can never know the true depth of mine and Jude’s feelings. That’s dangerous for us both. To Alyssa Vance, I need to appear as her good little soldier so I can keep Jude and myself safe. But if Jude can stand up to the very people and the system she hates, why can’t I? Finally, Mom addresses me, and I wish she hadn’t. “Clark called. His assignment is proving difficult…He’s hoping to be home soon with good news and understands that failure is not an option for him. “
If she thinks that was a good conversation starter, she’s sorely mistaken. She’s killed any attempt at me wanting to engage if that's what she led with. What amazes me the most is Amaya Van Helsing, our ancestor, the one that started the Rogues, evolved. But my mother won’t. Because change could mean she needs to give up her power. My mom loves her power more than she’s ever loved us.
The silence between us grows awkward as I barely acknowledge her pathetic attempt at making conversation, and Dad jumps in. “Ryder is getting antsy again. I know we all need these humans for our lives, but it's times like these I wish we didn’t. We should go see him soon to help reassure him we can keep them safe with these disappearances.”
Finally, a piece of conversation I can engage in. “I’ll do it. Ryder and I have always gotten on. I don’t mind.” Downing my coffee and taking my last bite of the bagel, I push my plate to the side and excuse myself. Except, Mom has other plans in mind for me.
“Actually, Sebastian, I have something else I need you to take care of first. Ryder can wait. There is a Rogue that has disrespected the chain of command on too many occasions, and now they need to be dealt with. It would be bad for business and all the Rogues if it was known that this type of behavior was tolerated. The file is on the table on your way out. ”
Blind obedience, that's what my mother expects from her Rogues, and it never irritated me as much as it does now. Clenching my jaw and trying to remain calm, I ask, “I thought I was on a break to focus on relations with the Rhodes?” My mom’s head whips around to me, as if she can’t believe I spoke back.
Her voice is ice, and I know I shouldn’t have tried to get out of her request. “Being my son , you should be able to do both. You’ve kept up your training, so this tiny assignment shouldn’t deter you from relations as you call it. You’re my best soldier, so you need to handle my biggest problem. I’ve only explained this to you, for this reason. Once you’re done, I need you to look into these murders that are on the rise. It’s messy, like it’s a baby Rogue with no training involved, and we need to get involved before the humans catch onto it. If we need to add time management skills to your training at this late stage of your Rogue career, well then clearly, we’ve failed you. You’re dismissed.”
Two backhanded compliments in the same year. If I cared enough, I would be concerned for her wellbeing. Leaving the room, I grab the file from the dining room table. The sooner I can get this out of the way, the sooner I can get some space from her. Heading to the weapons room, I open the file to see what I need and drop it in shock, like it burned me.
I dreaded the day that Kyla’s face would ever be in a file like this. Next to the heirs, she’s the closest thing I have to a friend, even if we haven’t spoken in years. It took me a while to get the message through to her, but when she finally understood the dangers that come with being my friend, she made herself scarce and understood why we could no longer be friends. To everyone else, it looked like we grew apart naturally. But I never forgot her, and I always cared. It was easier to protect her if we no longer appeared to be close. Last I heard, she took an overseas assignment to get away, and I was hoping she’d made it out safely.
Who was I kidding, thinking that Mom was going to let the incident at the funeral with Jude slide? Alyssa Vance was made to seem weak in public, and oh no, we can’t have that. I’m Alyssa Vance’s reason for everything that goes wrong, and if I asked, she would say it had happened because I didn’t do a good enough job at winning Jude over.
The price I need to pay for that is murdering my friend.
I don’t even bother reading the transgression Kyla’s been accused of. I know it's bullshit, and there is nothing I can do to change her fate. It's a tactic to keep me in line, and it’s working. Closing my eyes, I try to weigh up my options, and I have none. It's a decision between Jude or Kyla, and if I’m not careful, Logan could be at risk, too. I’ve never felt more hopeless in my life.
Steeling myself for what has to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I grab a few weapons and get in my car to drive to Kyla’s last known address on file. Taking every long route I can think of to draw this out, doesn’t help. I can’t believe I have to do this. The last time my hands were shaking, this hard was on my first assignment.
Parking across the street from Kyla’s house, I see she got her white picket fence dream, and for just a moment, I can be happy for my friend, even if I’m the one that will ruin her dream. I open the file again to double check the stats on her life. My blood runs cold as I see she has a child. It's at that moment that a child runs out of the house, chased by a man. That must be Kyla’s husband, a human, by the sounds of it. Turning back to the file, I see nothing about the child being part of the assignment, and I allow myself to feel a small bit of relief. If that's even possible on a day like today. Kyla runs after the man with a backpack, and it looks like they’re going on a school run.
Kyla looks older, but she’s laughing more than I remember. She kisses the man passionately, and I hear the child exclaim they’re being gross, followed by Kyla’s laugh. Thankfully, they leave for school while Kyla goes back into the house. Weighing up my options, I determine the child must be around four years old. It's a small mercy that I don’t have to expose her to her mother’s murder.
I’ve never cared about assignments before, but this is Kyla. What kind of evil monster wants to do this to a happy family? My mother, that’s who. And she’s using me to do this. I don’t know why I expect empathy from a woman that had her own child executed.
While it's difficult to kill a Rogue, sometimes it happens on assignment. If we get caught and sent to human jail, someone is sent in to terminate us. That's why we could have shorter life spans because of the nature of our work. But we can live impossibly long under normal circumstances. Since we don’t live under these dream circumstances, sometimes we marry and have children at a young age. This also means we have a lot more orphans than we should have. Something has got to change. This system is broken.
On autopilot, I brace myself for what needs to happen next; I get out of the car and sneak around the back of Kyla’s house, going through her garden. Silently, I let myself in via the sliding door in her living room, to be greeted with the sight of her back as she does dishes.
“What was my supposed crime against the empire?” Kyla surprises me by asking calmly, as if I was a welcome, invited guest, and we are discussing something as mundane as the weather. “How did you know?” I reply quietly .
She turns to face me, freckles splattering across her nose and her blonde hair framing her face, still in the same pixie cut style I knew from when we were younger. Giving me a wry smile, it looks like Kyla understands what’s supposed to happen, and she’s already forgiven me. It's forgiveness I don’t deserve, and it breaks something in me that Jude leaving, nor my mother, could ever have broken.
“I hoped you were being paranoid back then, but a part of me knew this day would always come. You warned me about it after all, and I took too long to listen. I got too close.” She glances down at my foot with a smirk, “And your gait on your right foot is heavier like when we were kids. It’s barely discernible, but even if it’s been a while, I still remember what it sounds like. You really should train around that.”
I’m silent, because what do you say to someone you love before you kill them? How do you murder your best friend? I’ve never heard of murder of compassion. She sighs. “How are you supposed to do it?”
Looking around her living room, I’m overwhelmed with all the pictures of their family moments, and my throat clogs with emotion. “Gun,” I choke out and try to swallow the lump in my throat. “Research shows that housewives prefer to slit their wrists, but I’m allowed to go the gun route too, and I chose that…it’s quicker and less painful.”
Resigned, Kyla looks at a photo on her fridge of her little family, as if she’s drawing strength from them before she looks back at me, fierce. “Promise me you will make sure my daughter and husband stay out of this life. That they stay safe?”
I can’t do this.
Shaking my head, I tell her, “We’re getting you out of here. Leave everything, I will set a fire, to make it look like you died that way. Then we can get the three of you out of the country. I still have contacts of my own that my mom knows nothing about. You’ll be safe.”
She ignores everything I just said and asks where I want her. Confused, I look at her, my tone urgent, “Kyla, we have to go now.” But she remains still, looking back at me like I’m the crazy one. “Sebastian, the options you’re giving me is my daughter lives her life on the run, or I give your mom what she wants, and my daughter remains safe and still has my husband. We both know that if your mom even gets a hint that I’m alive, she’ll use whatever resources she has at her disposal until we’re all dead.”
My eyes go wide as I see how fast she’s putting this all together. “But I’m guessing your mom will leave my family alone if I’m dead?” I won’t lie to Kyla, but I won’t confirm what she suspects because she’s right. My mom is only going after her because of her connection to me. Her child and husband don’t factor into this. I doubt she even glanced at them or considered them and the pain they would go through just so she could tighten my leash.
“That’s what I thought.” Kyla goes to the kitchen counter, pulling out a kitchen pad and taking a moment to scrawl a goodbye letter on it with steady hands. Then comes back to face me.
The guilt and sadness that have been swirling inside me since the moment I saw her name on that file turns to rage, and I shout at her. “No! Stop this. Why aren’t you fighting back? Fight me. We both know you could. Make me hurt for trying to take you away from your family! No one would blame you for killing me in self defense!”
My chest heaves and tears spill down my face. Kyla reaches for my cheek and caresses it, wiping them away. So much love and tenderness radiates from her, despite what we both know is about to happen .
“Sebastian, when you love someone as much as I love my family, death is something you’ll easily face if it keeps them safe. I knew I was on borrowed time, and I’ve had a wonderful life. Sure, I wish there was more time, but I regret nothing. Don’t fear death, it's only the next step of our journey. But please tell my family about this conversation one day, when it’s safe. I would hate for them to think the staged version of my death is real.”
Shaking my head because I refuse to accept it, I’m unable to get any words out.
“Promise me you’ll protect them? My husband is human, and he doesn’t understand this life as well as he thinks he does. The Human Faction trains them, but it's barely enough for the reality of our lives. It would be better if you could help them disappear. Then, when she’s old enough, you can explain to her what we are. Would it make you feel better if I fought you for a bit to make it look like I put up a fight?”
I don’t answer before she strikes at me with a dagger, burying the short blade in my shoulder, and it hurts. Good. I half ass a punch and a kick that she returns, but my heart is not in it, and we both know it. Pain surrounds me as she stops with her assault. She takes a deep breath. “Leave. You don’t have to watch this.”
“No.” I refuse. “I want to be here for you. I don’t want to leave you alone.”
Nodding, she walks across the room to stand in front of her kitchen table. “I hope you find peace one day, my friend. The Rogues know you deserve it.” Taking the gun from the table, she places it on her temple and pulls the trigger.
The explosion sounds in the house and her body crumples to the floor, and the echo is all that’s left of my friend I’ve loved since I was a child. Kyla is dead and nothing will bring her back. My numb state is the only way I’m going to get through this. Doing a quick scan of the scene, I see none of my blood is here. Taking a final look at her body, I leave. I won’t dare kiss her goodbye, but I swear, her death will matter.
Racing out of that house, I throw myself into my car and drive with only one destination in mind. With one hand on the steering wheel, I grab my phone and text Mom. “It's done,” is all I say. Fuck her. I’m not giving her the report in person. I will kill her myself if she tries to blackmail me again.
Racing to the Rhodes’ Estate, I park outside and jump the gate and run to Jude’s bedroom. By now, the guards expect this from me, and I scale the wall to her bedroom to find her inside. That’s when the tears start blinding me.
Seeing the state I’m in, her eyes widen and concern floods her face. Falling into her arms, I hiss with pain as it pushes the knife deeper, even if it's what I deserve. “Sebastian, what's wrong? You’re hurt! Let me help you.”
Gently easing me up, she finds the source of the pain and gently eases the knife out of my shoulder. Turning, she grabs a shirt off her dresser and presses it against my wound, knowing that it won’t be long until the blood stops, and my healing kicks in.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks me.
Shaking my head, I collapse into her arms, and she holds me as I sob my heart out for the friend I just lost, and the daughter that lost her mother.