Page 65 of Fragile Facade
My cracks have never been split so wide open. My puzzle pieces no longer fit together to create one perfect picture.
I’m a different man now. A truly vile one. Because Killian somehow became mine, and I’m not fucking done with him.
24
CLOSE TO THE CURSE
GHOST
My eyes have not leftthe hotel room window since the moment I walked through the door. I haven’t slept, taken a piss, or eaten because there’s something inside me that won’t allow me to move from this spot until I get him back.
It might be unfamiliar to me because it’s failure. It might be resentment that he gave himself up for me when I never wanted him to. It might be pain because it fucking hurts that he’s gone. It might be fear because I don’t know if he’s still alive. Whatever it is, it blocks everything else, turning me into a single-minded missile, aimed where I want to be but with no lit fuse to take me there.
But the most fucked up part is that this is the closest I’ve ever come to succumbing to my family curse. Never, not even once, has suicide crossed my mind with such ferocity. Killian said he’d hold my hand in Hell when I got there, and for the first time, I’m planning my way to Death’s door with the intention of breaking in. If he’s there, I don’t want to slam the door in her face. I want to step over the threshold and find him so I can kill him all over again for getting us into this mess.
Because I don’t understand how this happened to me! I don’t fall for people, and I sure as fuck don’t get attached. I’m loyal to my siblings, my town, and my Vile Boys, but this is something beyond that. I never considered following my two brothers or my dad to the afterlife, and one invitation from Killian has me avoiding the dagger in my pocket just in case the temptation is too strong.
Truthfully, I don’t know what it is I feel for him. It’s not love. It’s not anything with a name. It justis. It’s this thing that happened over the course of a bunch of ruthless months and challenges with no clear winner. Somehow, he got what he wanted, and I got what I wanted, and neither of us ever gave up any power for it. It’s a dynamic of intensity that blends us together, his masks and my cracks, pulling and pushing until our bits meld into something that brought us both up short because we never expected to feel anything from it. Nothing beyond a need to win and out-maneuver one another, a competitive edge that became a need for more.
Now I’m all fucked up because thinking about going back to Moros without him isn’t sitting well in my head. I can’t do it. I don’t know why I can’t do it, but I can’t. I won’t. Remi and Selena will have to accept it and move on, because if Riot is dead, I’ll burn Reaper City to the ground and let the fire guide me to Hell.
The two devices I smuggled out are on the floor; I refuse to look at them because they tricked me. They became more important than Riot in the moment, and I’ll never forgive myself for being so easily deceived. I don’t look at the bed we slept in together, back-to-back for safety, showing trust when we never have before. I don’t look at anything other than the city in the distance, as if I can peer through the lights and the buildings to see him there, laughing in the face of his captors.
He has to be laughing.He better be fucking laughing.
With a knock and a beep, the hotel room door opens, and Ransom and Krypt announce themselves when I don’t turn around. Krypt’s hands land on my shoulders, touching me when he hates touch. He forces my face away from the window, looking at me with all his monsters on display. For the first time, my eyes water, blinking away dryness and brokenness and unfamiliar guilt.
His hands press on my jaw, thumbs on my cheeks and fingers at my nape. “We’re getting him,” is all he says.
“Yes,” is all I say.
25
TOOTHLESS VENOM
RIOT
My mind is notKrypt’s. It’s not a vault, impenetrable and fortified. It’s weak, full of insecurities and buttons that are easily pushed when my authority is questioned. It’s a burning pit of shame. Knowing I’m here, captured and useless, is the biggest letdown of my life. What will the boys think? What will Director say?I told you so.I can almost hear him laughing at me.
But Soren got out. So I smile to myself, knowing I’ll at least be his hero. He’ll fucking remember me now, long after I’m dead, eternally suffering through his gratitude for my sacrifice. The thought makes me smile wider, knowing he’ll hate me for it as much as he’ll thank me for it.Well, fuck you, sweetheart. If I can’t be there to taunt you in the flesh, let my actions taunt you forever.
“Why get it?” the man who has been with me since yesterday asks, nodding at my naked body. “A tattoo that signifies exactly who you are. Seems stupid to me.”
I won’t go out silently. I’m not a ghost, and I really do love the sound of my own voice, so as long as I have the wherewithal to use it, I will. “You’d get it if you knew what it was like to be a part of something. You fucks are all just brainwashed, inbred fools. Following the big guy’s lead just because he told ya to. Fucking rats in a lab, man.”
The back of his hand cracks across my face. It stings like a bitch, but I laugh harder, spitting blood at his feet. “Sore spot?” I ask, licking my bloody lips, wishing I could still taste Soren there. “It’s alright. You can admit it to me. I won’t tell anyone.”
I’m naked, hanging from a chain attached to the ceiling. My arms are above my head, long gone numb, and my toes are barely touching the ground. It’s not as fun to hang when Soren isn’t around to be beautiful while dying. They’ve asked and asked questions, but I’ve managed to keep my replies sarcastic and witty despite how dark my mind is turning. The torture methods will intensify soon, so I might as well have my fun while I still can.
“Riot,” he reads my name from the base of my tattoo, walking a circle around my body. “You pick it because it sounded cool?”
“Earned it because of who I fucking am.” I grin wide. “Imma call you Puppy.”
“Why?” he indulges me.
“Because you pace around in a damn circle like a dog trying to find a comfy position to sleep.” I cough, spitting more blood. “We getting on with this, or do you just like staring at me naked?”
His smile is almost as cocky as mine, far less charming, though. “Very well.” He releases the chain holding me up, giving me enough slack to stand properly. My ankles haven’t held my weight for the better part of a day, so they give out as soon as I plant my feet on the ground. The man catches me, sliding a wooden chair behind me and pushing me to sit on it. Breathing a little harder, I shake my head to relieve the dizzy spell, trying not to show how badly my arms hurt as the blood rushes through them.
