Chapter twelve
Childhood enemies
Ron stepped out of his room and walked down the hallway, banging his fist against the wall. He needed fresh air and he needed it bad. He reached the main door of the building and sat on the ground right next to it, leaning his back against the wall. There was no point walking any further.
The wind blew his reddish hair over his face and he pushed it back annoyed. They would return to the labs the following day. Yet, he had this nagging feeling he'd left something unfinished. And he was confused.
Ever since he'd left the Grants, his mind had been working feverishly, trying to decipher Sam's words. How could he know he'd start feeling doubt, question the side he was on? How could he foresee that he would feel like a traitor to both sides?
His talk with Snitch Gravel didn't make things easier. Even he thought the kids weren't a complete waste of space. And they were so unlike Freider. Ron had to choose when he'd never though there was a choice to make. And he had to do it fast, before it was too late.
He stood and started pacing in front of the entrance.
"Hey, how are your Grant buddies these days?"
Ron stopped and looked to his right. Two guards had stopped ten feet away and were sniggering as if sharing a private joke.
"Don't they come calling anymore?" the other guard asked.
"My Grant buddies are just fine, since they keep escaping you clowns," Ron mumbled.
He turned away and stalked back towards his room. Grant... That name felt like a curse more than ever. At some point, before his parents had died, he'd been proud of it. Proud to be a Grant. Just like those kids – his nephews – seemed to be. How much did they know about the bloody stain the name carried? Had Freider told them anything about the lies, the betrayal, the senseless death?
Rom shuddered. He and Freider had never gotten along, from the moment he could remember. The twelve year age gap between them had been too great to allow common interests and activities. Freider had been a torturer to him, not a big brother, a prison guard, not a protector, a slave driver...
The moment he'd turned eighteen, he'd run away as fast as his legs could carry him. As far away as he could from a brother who terrorized him, from another who didn't care and... No, don't think about that. Don't think about him!
He'd had a crazy, dangerous youth. And now, here he was, practically working for Snitch Gravel who wanted nothing but to destroy his family. And up until now, he'd been on board. Nothing in that snake pit was worth saving. Except, now he wasn't so sure.
Freider's kids weren't like him, weren't cruel. And yet it was them and not Freider who were hunted down. And with all his twisted morals, Ron could still see it was wrong. Just stop thinking about it. It's none of your business.
Ron pushed the door of his room open and froze in the threshold. Snitch Gravel sat on a chair next to his bed, one arm dangling over the back of it. He still wore his black suit, but the blazer and tie were gone and he'd rolled the sleeves of his scarlet shirt up to his elbows. The top hat was also gone. The jet black hair had no white streaks in it. Snitch Gravel looked ten years younger than in the complete getup.
"What are you doing here?" Ron asked warily.
Snitch Gravel studied him for a moment as if trying to decide if it was worth to answer, then he stood. "I didn't get to welcome you properly." He strode to Ron and caught him in a tight hug.
Ron froze, but before he could react in any way, Snitch Gravel let go and retook his seat. Ron shook away the shock and sat on his bed, studying Snitch Gravel carefully.
"You haven't changed a bit," he finally said.
Snitch Gravel huffed. "Yes, perhaps this shell is undented, but I'm nothing like twenty years ago." He frowned. "Is that how long it's been?"
"No. It's almost eighteen years, actually. Since Sam and Tom were born. We met in the hospital, remember?"
"Yeah..." Snitch Gravel balanced on the chair's hind legs, watching Ron. "You grew up nicely, Ronnie."
Ron let out a bark of laughter. "Nicely? You know what my life's been like. You pulled me out of the deep shit I was in, remember?" he said bitterly. "My life can be described in a lot of ways, but nice isn't one of them. And it's all Freider's fault."
"You had it easy." Snitch Gravel spread his arms. "Look what he's turned me into. I'm a monster out killing children."
Ron shuddered. He knew it, but hearing him say it sounded much worse. "Acknowledging it is half the problem solved." He bit his lip. "You could give up on all this, you know. Lead a normal life," he whispered.
Snitch Gravel graced him with a highly skeptical look. "You don't understand, Ron. I like this. I want to make him suffer more than anything in this world. There is no going back for me. You, on the other hand, could clean your act. Break ties."
"You don't break ties with the mafia, and you know it," Ron snorted and lied back on his bed, looking at the ceiling again. He didn't like to be reminded what he'd done to gain protection on the street. "Are you going to kill the kids?"
Snitch Gravel tilted his head. "I want to test them first. See where they can go, how much they can take. Break them."
"Then I guess you'll be facing off a lot. I've seen them. They won't bow their heads and let you finish them off. They're more your kids than Freider's—" Ron raised his eyes and the words got stuck in his throat.
There was a mad glint in Snitch Gravel's eyes and his upper lip twitched upwards revealing his teeth. He looked startlingly like a wolf about to attack.
"Don't ever dare say that again!"
Ron nodded, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. Snitch Gravel threw him one more murderous look then turned away. A question burned on Ron's tongue, but he was too afraid to ask, so he kept quiet. After a minute in which Snitch Gravel seemed to calm down and he kept spinning the question inside his head, he decided to give it a try.
"Da—" Ron froze again.
Snitch Gravel had whipped towards him, a look of mingled anger and surprise on his face.
"I mean," he quickly said. "Can I ask you something?"
Snitch Gravel narrowed his eyes as if he could guess it was a delicate question. "What is it?"
"Have you... you know, talked to her? Since you left?" Ron asked cautiously.
"To Millie you mean?" Snitch Gravel frowned, but Ron caught the slight flinch after he said her name.
"Yeah, to Millie," Ron whispered.
"Not since her wedding day," Snitch Gravel answered and returned to staring at the ceiling as if he found it fascinating. He looked so lonely and sad that Ron felt like hugging him. Was there really no turning back? Was that the life awaiting Ron as well? He didn't want it. He needed people.
"It still hurts, doesn't it?"
"Okay, what the hell kind of question is that?"
Ron flinched, but Snitch Gravel didn't sound very pissed. He got up from his chair and strode to the door.
"You just lost all further questioning privileges." He gave Ron a small smile. "Go to sleep, brat. We'll talk tomorrow." And he stepped out.
Ron waited for a few seconds, then rushed out of his room. It was this conversation more than anything that made up his mind. He hurried out of the building, past the guards, and out into the forest through the hole in the fence.
Snitch Gravel had a point. He could still redeem himself, at least partially. He didn't want this lonely life Snitch Gravel had chosen for himself. If there was even the tiniest chance his family would take him back, he'd take it.
He ran faster and faster, determined to search the entire forest for the camp if he had to. Despite what Snitch Gravel had said about testing the kids, Von Crooken didn't see it that way. And even if Snitch Gravel had apparently taught Von Crooken his place, he wasn't sure how long it would take the message to get across.
Saving them now meant going against Snitch Gravel. He stopped once the realization hit him. Were they worth it? After all, he hated them. You don't hate them. To be honest, he actually liked them. He hated Freider, he really did, but that wasn't their fault. They had taken after their mother more than he ever hoped possible, and he had always liked their mother.
Lost in thought, he finally reached the camp. It seemed deserted. He snuck between the tents and finally reached Sam's. He unzipped it as quietly as possible and peeked inside. It was empty.
Ron scrambled inside and started searching until he finally found Sam's maps. He looked over them. Sam had drawn a good route to the labs. They would get there too fast, before Snitch Gravel and Von Crooken sorted out their differences. He grabbed Sam's pencils, erased the route and drew an alternative one.
The job done, he stepped out of tent and hid behind a tree just in time. Sam appeared from his right and entered the tent.
Pleased with his actions, Ron scrambled back towards the compound. The sun was already rising when he entered the main building again. He'd finally made his decision. His nephews needed a guardian angel in these troubled times, and he was more than happy to play that part.