Page 30 of Cole: Bloodlines
“It’s okay,” Dane whispered, pulling him into a desperate, crushing embrace, a futile attempt to hold Cole together when he was already shattered. “This isn’t your fault.” His voice, usually so steady, now trembled, a fragile thread stretched to the breaking point. “You’re not to blame for any of this—heis.”
Cole stood frozen, a statue of despair, as Dane walked away with the coroner, toward the unspeakable task. The detective followed them, leaving Cole utterly alone in the brutal, echoingsilence of the night. The cold seeped into his bones, a mirror to the icy dread in his soul. He stood there, a broken thing, praying with every fiber of his being for the earth to open up beneath him, to swallow him whole, to erase him from this unbearable, horrifying reality.
CHAPTER 12: FORSAKEN
They’re all dead.
A cold, dead weight settled in Gabe’s stomach, like a whisper from a void where his world had once stood.The words spoken to him became a muffled drone, like sounds filtered through miles of murky water. The terrible truth didn't just sink in; it crashed over him like a tidal wave of ice and shattered glass, splintering the last shards of his sanity.He didn't just kill them; he defiled them, ravaged their innocence, then butchered them like cattle.The image, unbidden and grotesque, clawed at the back of Gabe’s eyes.
Maddy. Savannah.Abel.
The names echoed in the cavern of his skull, each syllable a fresh stab.Gone. Violently ripped away, erased from existence as if they’d neverbeen. The void they left behind was a screaming, gaping maw. His family.Theirfamily. It wouldn’t survive this. How could it?
Had they found the bodies yet? The thought of Cole and the others discovering the desecrated remains of their loved ones… Gabe’s knees threatened to buckle, a wave of nausea washing over him so potent he tasted bile. The horror oftheirsuffering, right now, was a tangible weight, heavier than any chain.
And Cole…oh god, Cole. The name was a fresh wound. Cole, who carried the world on his shoulders, would shatter. The guilt, an unimaginable, crushing weight, would bury him alive. Abel was theirbaby; their sweet, passionate, adorable baby whom theyidolized.And Savannah and Maddy… they were likeeveryone’slittle brother and sister.Gone. Their absence would be a constant, agonizing phantom limb for Cole.
Even if Gabe murdered these bastards right now, they would still win. Theyhadwon. The true victory wasn't his death,but the slow, agonizing destruction of Cole, the systematic obliteration of every good, pure thing in his life. And the monster had done it. He had succeeded.
Rough hands seized him, yanking his arms high above his head. Metal shackles bit into his wrists, a searing pain that was dulled by the greater agony in his soul. They stripped him, the cold air hitting his skin like a thousand tiny needles, but he felt nothing, only a profound, hollow emptiness. Roland circled him, a predator surveying its prey. His gaze was a tangible thing, crawling over Gabe’s body with a slow, lustful thoroughness that made his skin prickle despite his numbness.
“You’re not usually my type,” Roland drawled, his voice a low, sexual rasp that grated like sandpaper. “Too much muscle, not young enough. But…” He stepped closer, his breath hot and foul on Gabe’s ear, his hand gliding over Gabe’s chest, down his rigid stomach, fingers tracing the faint line of his happy trail. The touch was a violation, a defilement. “… the fact that you belong to Henry, and he cherishes you so much…” A slow, sickening grin spread across his face, revealing teeth too white, too sharp. “That makes me want to make you my new favoritefuck toy.”
Gabe looked through him, his eyes vacant, unseeing, like shattered glass. His body was here, suspended, violated, but his mind, fractured beyond repair, had already fled. It was back home, with his family, trapped in their own fresh, screaming hell, a hell he was powerless to save them from. That was the true torment… the real prison.
“Don’t leave us now.” The man was checking out. Byrne smacked his face, barely garnering a response. “The fun is just beginning.”
Gabe looked through him and didn’t seem to hear his words. That wouldn’t do. He walked over to where an old hose was attached to a rusted spigot and, with some effort, cranked the corroded handle—a dirty, rusty flood gushed from the end of the hose. Byrne turned the spray on Gabe, dousing the man in the filthy freezing water.
“Huh!” Gabe gasped sharply as icy water struck him in the face and splashed over his naked body, pouring down his stomach and legs in rusty torrents. He futilely jerked away from the unrelenting spray, sharp, staggered breaths bursting out of him.
“Awake now?” Byrne inquired and turned off the hose.
His dad watched from the sidelines in silence, simply observing.
Gabe shivered and gasped, teeth clacking as the vicious chill invaded his body, seizing his insides, impairing his ability to breathe. Byrne watched with dark satisfaction as the man’s stomach clenched and sucked in, his chest hitching, rising, and falling in an erratic effort to draw in breath. The cords in his neck strained and popped with the struggle to simply breathe.
“No checking out,” Byrne said. “We’re here to have a good time, and we can’t do that if you’re not with us.”
Gabe sucked in deep, sharp breaths that looked almost painful as he shot death threats at Byrne from his baby blue depths.
“You seem upset.” Byrne smiled. “If it helps, Henry had it coming. All this… he brought on himself.” Leaning close, Byrne touched his lips to Gabe’s ear, venom seeping into his voice as he whispered, “The little fuckerstolemy life—my fuckingbirthright.He tookeverythingfrom me. Now, I’m going to take everything from him.”
Byrne pushed against him, dropping one hand to grab his thick cock as he licked the man’s face—a long, slow drag ofhis tongue up his cheek. Gabe turned his head away in disgust, shuddering beneath the cold.
His tongue slithered around the shell of Gabe’s ear, then probed inside. The man flinched away again. “Henry was never supposed to be born,” Byrne hissed in his ear. “If mydaddyhad kept his promise andbutcheredthe whore… none of us would be here now.” Byrne craned his head a bit and glanced at his father across the room, an age-old resentment and rage simmering in his gut. “But we’re going to set things right,” he whispered to Gabe while slowly stroking his cock. “The way theyshouldhave been set right back then.”
•••
The boy sat cross-legged in the wooden chair next to the pot-bellied stove, a small hunting knife in his hand as he sharpened a stick. He flicked the shavings onto the top of the red-hot stove, one at a time, and watched them burst into tiny flames and disintegrate to ashes.
He heard the truck coming from a distance away and ignored it as he continued whittling on the stick. The rig pulled up out front, shut off, and a door opened and closed, a dull echoing thud in the crisp winter morning.
The boy dragged the blade in a long stroke along the stick and tossed the coiled shaving onto the stove. The cabin door opened as the curled strip caught fire and shriveled black, the flame going out. He didn’t look at his father as the man’s eyes darted around the small space.
“Where’s Bill?”
The boy shrugged. “Don’t know.” He tossed another shaving on the stove.
