Page 57 of A Light in the Darkness
“You’d like them too if it gave you power over a limp dick man who uses you for his own enjoyment.”
“Bold of you to assume I haven’t needed power over a limp dick man before.” He taunts, plucking at his collar. “You’ve had it so easy your whole life, Boudreaux, and you don’t even see it.”
“Easy?” I snort. “Nothing about my life has been easy.”
“Sure.”
“There you go,” Wes laughs. It’s a derisive sound aimed to get under my skin, to spoil the relief I feel at the news that Claire issafe. “Always trying to play the victim, the martyr. You don’t even know what a real victim is.”
I’m not sure exactly which part triggers me to jump to my feet, ready to pummel him into the seat he’s in, because I’m on my feet before the last word even makes it past his lips.
“I don’t know what a real victim is?” I laugh too, matching him like for like. “Tell that to the sixty refugees under my care.” It occurs to me that it’s a lie—I haven’t cared for them at all—but I don’t backtrack. “Tell that to the men and women who were kept like cattle to be used for some sick, rich fucks to play with.” My voice cracks, and I work to get air through my nose. “I thought what I knew was bad and it’s only gotten so much fucking worse! I don’t know how, but it did.”
My stomach roils at the stench in Davos’ prison cells, at the a la carte menu emblazoned in my mind, at the sight of Kaia taking her last struggling breaths, the girl who John Smith had been violating from childhood. I’d thought it couldn’t get any worse than that, but it got worse in a different way. Meeting Violet, hearing Wes’ claim about what they did to her mother—to Claire’s mother. Ripping a child from its mother’s womb, let alone two children, and selling it off while its mother laid dying is a type of despicable my brain hasn’t even wrapped around yet.
Maybe because it’s not true.
This is Wes, after all. I have no reason to trust him, and every reason to hate him. He could have made the whole story up to fuck with my head. But even if he did, it can’t account for the fact that Violet exists, and she’s clearly a carbon copy of the woman I’d risk it all for.
“You found the castle?” His voice is quiet, almost awed, as he stares at me. “Did Army Ken Doll over there help with that?”
“Kent.” He corrects, enunciating the T. “And I sure as fuck did.”
“Sorry about your little playground.” I roll my eyes at him.
To my surprise, Wes doesn’t look angry. “Not my playground.” He shrugs. “I’ve never been there, but I can tell you, you just pissedoff a lot of people. That target on your back is getting real big, brother. Even with new friends to watch your back for you, you’re playing with fire.”
“And I’ll let it burn me if it consumes the rest of it, too.”
“See? That’s your problem.” He drags a hand over his face, exasperated. “Exactly what I said… fucking martyr.”
“I’m not a martyr. I just care more about other people than myself.”
“What you are too stupid to understand, little brother, is that it’s not aboutyou. It’s about the people you care about most. Tell me you aren’t in love with Claire.”
“I missed where you became my therapist.” I snap. “You charging for this sage advice?”
“Nah, let’s call it couples therapy. Army Ken Doll can play the role of therapist for us.”
“I’m good.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I sink back into my chair and check my watch. We have to be getting close. I only have to tolerate his incessant arrogance for a little while longer and then…
And then I’ll let him walk away and never see him again. I’d kill him if he weren’t Violet’s only person. I know nothing about her, and I’m not sure I want to, but she seems to trust him. I shift my focus to her as Wes watches me, his eyes following my line of sight.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” He grins, looking proud of himself as if he has anything to do with that.
“Just wondering how you brainwashed her into trusting you.”
“I didn’t brainwash her. Our union was arranged.”
“Mmm.” I nod, uninterested despite the fact that I want to know more.
“Would you believe she is my father’s leftovers?” I bristle at the callous admission. “It’s a funny story, actually. See, my father didn’t raise me, but he made sure I was raised to be a surgeon. Doctors can be tricky in this line of work, you know, cause they’re an empathetic lot.‘Do no harm’and all that. It’s fareasier to train them, to build them from scratch, than it is to convert them. So, I became the best in my class. Was I seeking his approval by being the best? Maybe.” He chuckles, glancing at Kent. “Army Ken, why aren’t you writing this down?”
“You need more help than I can give.” Kent deadpans, shaking his head.
Wes nods his agreement before turning back to me with a shrug. “I liked it, though. Ilikethat moment of having your hands in someone, feeling their life force all around you, knowing that in that moment, you’re their only God. A slip of the scalpel and they’re dead. Knick the wrong artery and the lights don’t come back on. Deprive them of oxygen too long and their brain can turn off even when the rest of them stays warm. Plenty of men like warm cunt that they can have whenever they want without having to deal with all the whining.”
“Jesus Christ.” Kent groans, tapping his knuckles against his brow, trying to control himself. Wes glances at him but doesn’t stop him.
