𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 | 𝟏𝟖+

31 | Vulnerability

The car parks in front of an old abandoned house.

I recognize the lot from when Thomas took me to the shooting range. The house sits at the edge of the ranch, a ranch in which he owns. Even though I know he owns more than he lets on, he was never one to flaunt his family's wealth. He was always so generous, so giving.

Until he decided that lives needed to be taken in order to be that saviour to the people of New Aberdeen.

We both leave the car, and I follow him up onto the wooden porch.

Boards block the windows, and dust settles on the ancient wicker patio furniture. There's a few broken planks between here and the doorway.

I take a step, only to have Thomas catch me in his arms before I fall through the deck. "Easy there, daffodil."

The nickname stirs up butterflies within me when it shouldn't. I can't still be in love with a heartless man, can I?

He takes his car keys and slips it into the front door, unlocking it with a click. He shoves his shoulder into the wood and pushes it open. It creaks on the hinges.

Thomas reaches out towards me. "You coming?"

"What is this place?" I ask, staring at the broken trim and peeling wallpaper. It almost reminds me of Thomas' apartment, except we're stepping back in time by fifty years or so. As we step through the entryway and into the old home, I catch sight of the moth holes in the curtains and the broken glass frames.

Thomas releases my hand. "My home."

"I thought your home was..." Oh.

His family owned Smyth street, so I just assumed he grew up in the heart of New Aberdeen. How could I ever be so wrong? Everything in here remains dated, untouched in years. It's like an ancient tomb being explored for the first time.

Except for Thomas, this place will remind him of every waking nightmare.

He wanders into the kitchen, his blue eyes following up an old archway leading into the dining room. He grazes his fingers into the pen marks lining up the walls.

"Ma used to measure our heights every few months," he chuckles as he brushes over two markings.

I step closer to him until our shoulders brush, investigating the label on the etching. One is labeled 'Thomas' and the other 'Levi'. Same height. Same date.

"Levi always used to make fun of me for being short," Thomas confesses. "Now he's the short piece of shit."

I can't help but laugh at that comment. Imagining Thomas as 'short' seems ridiculous, considering he's a goliath now.

I kneel down, rubbing my fingers over a lower marking. "Madeline," I say.

"My sister."

I know of his sister. I know of her fate, but he doesn't realize I know the truth.

"Your sister," I repeat, looking into those blue eyes for answers only he has. Although his entire expression remains stoic, I catch the quiver in his breath. He's terrified of the truth.

It's a side of Thomas I've never seen before.

"I never wanted any of this," he mutters under his breath. "You think I want to kill? It's the only thing I've known since..." He winces. "Since they died."

I set my hand on his bicep and rub softly, only to have those blue eyes melt at my touch. Thomas appears so vulnerable to me, but those vulnerabilities only reveal pieces of a much bigger puzzle.