Chapter Thirty-Seven — Good Boy
GOOD BOY
“Ronan?” Silence. He took three steps. Then stopped. Wrong. Everything. Wrong. Ronan had promised to come back. Not come inside. Not somehow gain access to a federal detention wing. Not call him into an empty hallway during a power failure. Elliot looked toward the ceiling speaker.
“Fuck.” A soft laugh came through it. Not Ronan. Saint. “Almost.” Elliot closed his eyes. Of course. “You cloned him.” “Yes.” “Again.” “Yes.” “You’re getting repetitive.” Silence. Then Adrian laughed. Real voice. No software. No distortion. Close. Elliot opened his eyes.
“Where are you?” “Come find me.” “No.” Pause. That answer apparently surprised him. “Elliot.” “No.”
“You came this far.” “Three steps.” “You came when he called.” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.” “Immediately.” “Yes.” “No hesitation.” Elliot looked toward the empty hallway.
“Your point?” “You love him more than you love yourself.” “That’s dramatic.
” “Is it?” “Yes.” Adrian laughed. “You were always funny when you were scared.” Elliot’s stomach turned.
Always. Three years. Ronan had found the records.
Vance told Elliot enough before everything went wrong.
Saint had been watching since he was eighteen.
Before contact. Before Tyler. Before Ronan.
Before Elliot knew there was anything to watch.
“You knew me before the forum.” Silence. “Adrian.” The name changed everything. Saint went quiet. Elliot smiled faintly. There. Human.
“You don’t like that.” “You finally learned my name.” “Ronan did.” Another silence. Good. Elliot continued. “He found you.” “He found a room.” “He found your father.” The lights flickered. Interesting. “He found your projects.” Nothing. “He found Daniel.” Silence. “Mara.” Nothing. “Isaac.” “Stop.”
First command. Sharp. Real. Elliot felt his pulse steady. Adrian Cross. Twenty-nine. Serial killer. Manipulator. Abandoned son. Not omniscient. Not Saint. A man.
“You killed them.” Adrian laughed softly. “They failed.” “So you killed them.” “They left.” There. Exactly what Ronan had figured out. Elliot looked toward the camera.
“Caleb left.” “No.” “He did.” “He broke.” “You tried to make him kill his brother.” “He wasn't ready.” “He told his brother.” Adrian’s voice hardened.
“He betrayed me.” “Nathan?” “Unstable.” “Lena?” Silence.
Elliot frowned. “Lena left too.” No answer.
Interesting. “Is she alive?” Adrian didn’t respond.
Elliot’s chest tightened. Three alive. Nathan had said three. Caleb. Nathan. Maybe Elliot. Lena—
“Did you kill Lena?” Silence. Then: “She disappointed me.” Cold. There. Four. Daniel. Mara. Isaac. Lena. Saint’s body count. At least four. Elliot stared at the speaker.
“How?” “Does it matter?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because you spent months pretending we were the same.” Adrian laughed. “We are.” “No.” “You killed five.”
“Yes.” “I killed four.” There. Confession. Elliot’s pulse sharpened. Cameras. Facility systems. Maybe recording. Good. Adrian continued.
“You’re better.” “No.” “More efficient.” “No.” “More beautiful.” Elliot’s stomach turned. “No.” “You chose people who deserved it.” There it was. Permission. Again. He could almost remember how good those words once felt. Not anymore.
“They deserved consequences.” “Yes.” “Not me.” Adrian went silent. Elliot swallowed. That sentence hurt. Good. It should.
“I decided I got to be the consequence.” “You were.” “No.” “You still believe they deserved what happened.” Some. Maybe. That was the ugly truth. Elliot wasn't going to become a different person just because he confessed.
“Yes.” Adrian laughed softly. “There you are.” “But that doesn't make me right.” Silence.
Adrian hated nuance. Interesting. Everything had to be binary.
Good. Bad. Strong. Weak. Loyal. Failed. Stay.
Leave. Ronan had complicated everything.
Maybe that was why Adrian hated him. Elliot looked toward the end of the hallway.
“Where are the officers?” “Busy.” “Did you kill one?” Pause. “Yes.” His jaw tightened. Five. Saint had five too now. Fitting. Elliot hated that thought immediately. No. Not fitting. People weren’t numbers. Ronan would say that. No. Elliot said it himself.
“What was his name?”
Adrian went quiet. “What?” “The officer.” “Why?” “You killed him.” “Yes.” “What was his name?” “I don’t know.
” There. Difference. Elliot remembered every name.
That did not make him better. But Adrian had reduced even his own victims to function.
Failure. Obstacle. Project. Elliot had done something similar.
Maybe that was another thing he needed to stop.
“Where are you?” Adrian laughed softly. “Now you want to see me.” “I want this over.” “You’ve wanted to see me for months.” “Not anymore.” Lie. Partly. He wanted the face. Needed it attached to the voice. Needed Saint reduced to human scale. Adrian knew.
“Come downstairs.” “No.” “Elliot.” “Come to me.” Silence.
Elliot almost smiled. “Scared?” The speaker clicked off.
No response. He waited. Ten seconds. Twenty.
Then footsteps. Not behind. Ahead. Slow.
Unhurried. A man turned the corner. Elliot stopped breathing.
Adrian Cross looked ordinary. That was the first thought.
Not terrifying. Not monstrous. No black clothes chosen for dramatic effect.
No mask. Dark hair. Pale eyes. Thin face.
Maybe six feet. Federal maintenance uniform.
Badge clipped at the waist. Stolen, probably.
A smear of blood near one cuff. Not his.
Adrian stopped approximately twenty feet away.
They stared at each other. Three years. Hundreds of messages.
Five murders. Four projects dead. Ronan.
Everything. And Elliot’s first spoken thought was:
“You’re shorter than I expected.” Adrian blinked. Then laughed. Real. Elliot smiled faintly. Good. Human. Adrian took one step closer. Elliot stayed.
“You look exactly the same.” “No, I don’t.”
“To me.” “That’s creepy.” “You never minded before.” “I didn’t know you were watching me shower.
” Adrian smiled. “I didn't.” Elliot froze. “What?” “Bedroom, yes.” Cold. “Bathroom?” Adrian shook his head. “Some things should remain private.” Elliot stared. “You have boundaries?” “Ironic coming from you.” Fair. Elliot almost laughed. Adrian stepped closer. Fifteen feet. “You’re beautiful.” “Stop.” “You always were.” “Stop.” “You hated when people said it.” Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“They meant the wrong thing.” “What did I mean?” “You thought I was useful.” “No.” “You thought I was interesting.” “Yes.” “You thought I could kill.” “Yes.” “You wanted to see if you were right.” Adrian smiled.
“At first.” There. “At first.” “Yes.” “And then?” Adrian looked at him.
Something in his expression changed. Not Saint. Adrian.
“I loved you.” Elliot stared.
“No.” The answer came immediately. Adrian’s face tightened. “You don’t get to decide that.” Interesting. Same argument Ronan had made. People got to define their own feelings. Fine. Maybe Adrian did love him. That did not make the love good.
“You loved me.” “Yes.” “Okay.” Adrian blinked. That surprised him more than denial. Elliot continued.
“And your love was terrible.” Silence. “You watched me without permission.” Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“You manipulated me.” Nothing. “You encouraged me to kill.” “You wanted to.” “Yes.” No hiding.
“You threatened everyone I cared about.” “To protect what we had.” “You kidnapped my mother.” “You chose her.” “No. You chose her.” Adrian’s face hardened.
Good. “You killed people who left you.” “They betrayed me.” “You keep renaming things.” Silence.
Elliot stepped closer now. Not because Adrian called. Because Elliot chose.
“Leaving becomes betrayal.” Another step. “Control becomes love.” Another. “Manipulation becomes permission.” Adrian watched. “Murder becomes failure.” Ten feet. “And obsession becomes Saint.” Adrian’s face emptied. Elliot smiled faintly.
“But you’re just Adrian.” Silence. Then Adrian hit him.
Fast. Hard. Back of his hand across Elliot’s mouth.
Pain exploded. Elliot staggered. Metal taste.
Blood. His body reacted before his mind.
Fist. Throat. Eyes. Knee. Kill. No. Promise.
Elliot straightened slowly. Adrian stared.
Waiting. Wanting. Elliot wiped blood from his lip. Looked at it. Then Adrian.
“That all?” Adrian’s eyes changed. He hit him again. Elliot saw it coming. Could have blocked. Didn't. Pain. His cheek burned. Adrian stepped closer.
“Fight back.” “No.” “Fight me.” “No.” “You’ve wanted to.” “Yes.” “Then do it.” “No.” Adrian shoved him. Elliot hit the wall. Hard. Still didn't move. Ronan. Promise. No. Not Ronan. Him. His choice. That mattered. Adrian grabbed the front of Elliot’s shirt.
“You think confession makes you good?” “No.” “You think restraint makes you innocent?” “No.” “You think he cleans you?” “No.” Each answer made Adrian angrier. Elliot looked directly into his eyes.
“I’m still a murderer.” Adrian froze. “I still wanted Tyler dead.” Nothing.
“I still enjoyed parts of it.” Adrian’s breathing changed.
“I still think about killing people.” There.
Truth. No shame. No permission needed. “But I don’t have to.
” Adrian’s hand tightened in his shirt. “Yes, you do.” “No.” “It’s what you are. ”