Seek {Superhero AU} - Ending 2

1: His Reign And His Fall

Officer Ryan sighs, staring at his notes, and then says, "I'll talk to your mother for a little while. Thanks, Nico."

And my mother doesn't have to send me to my room because I'm already out of my seat to go there on my own. I can hear the officer questioning my mother through the walls. It's all the same questions. Is it possible someone wanted a ransom from you? Do you owe anyone money? Are you going to get an inheritance soon?

My mother has answered all of these questions before. No. No. No.

Everyone has their limits, and my mother has reached hers when the man asks again if there's any reason at all that someone might not like our family.

"Officer Ryan, I have given the police every record of every interaction I have ever had since I was a child," she says, and though her tone is polite, I can hear her kindness straining. "If someone had it out for our family, you would know. Now, I believe my son might be right. If you're just going to ask the same questions I've already answered, I think I'm going to ask you to leave."

After that, we don't hear much from the police.

That is, until my sixteenth birthday. Since losing my sisters, I haven't ever really felt like doing much of a celebration for my birthday. My mom always insists on making a cake, but we don't do candles or singing or guests or gifts. All of that is too much.

We ice the cake together. This year I did black. I got black food dye all over my fingers, and my mom and I laughed about it, and we were just starting to feel a little bit better when—

Knock, knock, knock!

I glare at the door. I don't particularly like talking to people, especially uninvited guests. I'm assuming it's someone here to give us a package that accidentally ended up on their doorstep, or maybe someone from my mom's work here to tell me happy birthday. I'm debating whether I need to go hide in my room when my mother sighs, smiling, and says, "I can tell them you're not here, if you want."

I grin and nod enthusiastically. "Oh, yes, please."

She goes to get the door while I pick up a butterknife and continue icing my birthday cake. I might be a bit of a perfectionist because any bit of cake that isn't perfectly black gets recovered in icing again.

"Hello, Ms. di Angelo," comes a voice from the front door. "I need to speak with you and Nico. Is he home?"

My mother doesn't respond at first. Then, she says, "Officer, we've already told you as much as we can. Do you have an update for us? Because if you're not here to ask us anything new, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I do have an update, Ms. di Angelo," comes the officer's voice, and my knife stills.

The officer's voice sounds so carefully gentle, like she's afraid we might not like the news she has to share. I'm frozen. All the worst possibilities are flashing through my mind right now—they must have found a body. Hazel is dead. Or did the kidnappers strike again somewhere?

Blood rushes in my ears, and I feel a little faint. I stare at the imperfect cake—there are some crumbs stuck in the black icing. Is Hazel dead? I can't stop thinking of the bullet hole in Bianca's head. I'm thinking of her body, bloody on the ground, still, unmoving, dead.

"...Nico is home," my mother murmurs, and I hear my mother's small footsteps lead the woman into the house. My mother offers the officer a seat at our table, but the officer doesn't take it.

My gut is tearing itself apart. I think my whole body might be made of cement; I can't move. I can't stop staring at this cake and seeing blood and gore and—

"We're closing the case," says the officer.

I set down the knife and turn around. "What?"

"The case has been cold for years," she explains. "We've followed every lead we have, and there's nothing left. We have no way to track anyone down. I'm really sorry to be the one to break this news to you—but we've done all we can."

"All you can?" echoes my mother, and she's staring at the officer like she might be sick.

"You've done nothing," I growl, "except harass us for a decade."

"Nico—"

"What the fuck have you done for us?" I ask, seething. "You didn't find the kidnappers, and you didn't find my sister. All you did was show up here every time to ask the same fucking questions and make me walk you through the day my sister was killed so many times, I can never move on from it."

"We—"

"Get the fuck out," I tell her. The officer looks at my mother expectantly.

My mother's jaw is tense and angry. "Ma'am, I believe my son asked you to leave."

The officer, realizing my mother would not be providing any kindness, slowly nods and turns to leave. She has one foot out the door before she pauses and says, "Happy birthday, Nico. I'm really sorry."

The front door opens and closes, and I know there's no such thing as good guys in the world.

And if the police won't find my sister, then I will.

Word count: 1579