At least when Dustin handcuffed me to a pipe, it was because he didn't want me getting away to ultimately turn him in and ruin his life. An understandable reason.
Rosen's decision to detain me came from the sole desire of putting me on display for his men to view, to make an example out of me. To show that Rosen can take even those with the strongest will and bend them, break them. Because he wanted to remind me that my acceptance to his gang meant I no longer have independence. I'm property now and property obeys.
Which is how I wound up with my hands tied together behind my back, leashing me to the fence that surrounded Reaper headquarters.
I never would have thought I'd miss the pipe in Dustin's room.
But I did. I missed everything about that room, even that uncomfortable couch. From the bare walls to the blood stained floorboards, the messy dressers to the dusty fan, each item and object just another reminder of a place I'll never see again. But most of all, I missed the man who called that room home because without him, I felt incomplete. Like I was here, but not all of me. Half of me was somewhere very far away, hurting and alone.
I suppose I'll have to get used to this feeling, considering I'm promised to someone else.
As Rosen permitted, a party was in full swing. The night crept on, filling the late hour with loud music and drunken babbling from those who couldn't hold their liquor. For my sake, as well as their own, Corinth and Eli remained near the car in refusal to leave until they had definitive evidence that Dustin had been released and that I wouldn't be harmed. Not once have their eyes moved away from my position except to glare at the Reapers who called out to me with vulgar suggestions and crude behavior.
But through it all, the fear on behalf of myself and my friends, I don't regret what I did. This isn't the life I wanted, nor was it the life I envisioned when arriving here only a few hours ago, but it is now the life I accept. Because even though I'm miserable and fearful of what half these men would do to me should they ever find me alone, I know that this sacrifice means Dustin gets to live. He gets to be free.
I told Corinth he was worth it and my mind hasn't been swayed, not even by the insight into what my future shall be as a member here. I'd rather be a prisoner with Dustin mourning my absence from the comfort of his own room, than still have my own freedom while Dustin was slowly beaten to death behind bars. In the end, Dustin was worth this and so much more.
"My father says Dustin's release is well underway." I heard someone announce from my left. With my limited mobility, I twisted my body awkwardly to see Chris making a slow approach with his hands clasped behind his back as if to show he were here under peaceful pretenses. He even offered a tiny smile, "Sometimes Rosen's cruelty is an advantage, you'd be surprised how quickly people seek to please my father's demands."
Knowing that Dustin has been set free eased some small portion of dread sitting like a stone in my gut, but the fact that I heard such news from my husband to be only transformed that dread into nausea. Chris, from what I've seen thus far, is a decent man who held morals to a higher standard than his poor excuse of a father. But in this line of work, trust is earned not given. And though he's been kind, Chris hasn't earned my trust.
It was his eyes, there was something about them that caused me to hesitate. Phantoms of a haunted past that reminded me all too much of Dustin. I suppose they are similar. They're both men of war, built up over decades of torture and persecution of the innocent. Such things were forced on them by their fathers and while they committed crimes unwillingly at first, it became a part of them. Woven so deeply into their lives that one couldn't separate their soul from the stain.
My time in the Tribe has opened my eyes and I now realize that the world isn't only black and white, there are shades of grey everywhere. Criminals like Dustin and Chris fall into those shades, fiends who would rather fight to protect rather than fight for the sake of violence. There are a few people, like the friends I made in the Tribe, who were reliable. However most people, like Rosen and Oliver ... and my dad ... had no more sense of integrity than a log.
Chris lay somewhere on that spectrum but I wasn't yet sure which side of the line he resided on.
With this uncertainty in mind, I gave one swift nod of my head before rotating away from him to once again face a group of men nearly unconscious from alcohol consumption. Parties at the compound always seemed lighthearted, erotic at times, but mostly harmless. With the exclusion of the incident between Heather and Andy. The parties here didn't hold that same jovial atmosphere. Everyone here was wasted, no one held any concern for their neighbor, and I saw some poor girl being dragged towards the warehouse by a group of men who seemed a little too excited about her involuntary nature.
This place, these people, weren't good.
"We don't look like much, but I assure you we do what we can." Chris said again, now using a single hand to motion towards several people stationed around the lot, "My brothers and I monitor the parties, to make sure nothing gets too ... out of hand." He had to search for the words even as he watched the group of men yanking at the girl who must have told them several times that she didn't want their company.
I saw the brothers Chris spoke of; five other men similar to Chris in physical appearance who were stalking the edges of the party with alert eyes not yet plagued by alcohol. I don't know why it surprised me to find that Rosen's sons didn't partake in the festivities, but it did. I would have thought Chris and his brothers would be the first to join the celebration.
Chris rose a hand into the air, gaining the attention of one of his brothers, then pointed towards the girl in distress. At Chris' order, his brother started off to diffuse the situation.
The chain of command here was strict and all who called themselves Reapers were compliant to the hierarchy without question. It was unsettling to know that Rosen controlled these beastly people, and that he didn't even need to be present for his orders to be followed.
To show that I wasn't ignoring him entirely, I gave Chris another sharp nod of my head and nothing more. In response, he cleared his throat and stepped into my line of vision, compelling our eyes to make contact, "I'm not sure we were ever properly introduced that night on the road. My name is Chris Rosen, I'm the Vice for the Reapers."
It was odd to hear Rosen as a last name while interchangeably being used as a first name. It was stranger still to associate anyone who took that name as their own to be vile, detestable mutts, even if that weren't true.
Again, a curt vertical motion of my head but no further conversation on my part. This was my way of being polite, it's all I could afford at the moment. Chris shifted his gaze towards my stiff posture and he sighed, leaning against the fence beside me, "I apologize for my father's relatively barbaric decisions and I know you're not happy about any of this, but tonight could have ended much worse, especially after the way you spoke to him-"
"Is this your idea of being comforting?" I spoke for the first time only because I couldn't bare to hear him finish that sentence, holding no regard for the acidic bite to my tone which carried sour contempt from my heart to my voice, "Making small talk is not going to change my mind about marrying you so if that's you're plan, you might as well give up. I'm only doing this to keep Dustin safe."
The nasty smile on my face was an accident but it affected him as it should have. He saw my pain for what it was. Did he honestly believe a few friendly words would make this situation any less awful? I have been eighteen for less than a day and already I've pledged loyalty to a motorcycle gang and have gotten engaged.
Do I know how to celebrate a birthday or what?
"It's noble of you to give up so much for someone like Dustin." Chris said this quieter, crossing his arms over his chest while using the fence as a crutch to stand. I detected something in his tone but it was buried beneath deliberate indifference, from years worth of practice. Whatever he was genuinely feeling, he didn't want me to know.
My defenses went up in seconds, "He's not like the rest of you. He's better than this." I finished by nodding towards the disorderly pile of intoxicated neanderthals gathered around a bonfire with beer bottles held high, howling at the moon.
If I were talking to anyone else, my insult would have invoked offense. But Chris only nodded, the smallest hints of a smile brightening his eyes, "I know he is. I don't mean to sound rude but don't forget, I've known Dustin much longer than you have. I, of all people, know his worth."
That's right, Chris knew Dustin long before this rivalry ever started. Back when Dustin and Katrina were a couple and this bloodshed had yet to commence. Back when they were not necessarily sinless, but when they were still blameless. Back when they were still pure.
I would have liked to meet them back then and compare them to who they are now.
"Even during those days, we all knew he was different. Dustin obviously hasn't told you everything about his past and it's not my place to do so, but I can say that Dustin has been a legend for a long time. Believe it or not, my brothers and I were rooting for him and Katrina." Chris now spoke in hushed tones, as though his mind were millions of miles away, back to a time he didn't know he'd miss until the only memories he retained from that time were bathed in scarlet and ruined by heartache, "We never wanted this life for Katrina. In fact, we were hellbent on getting our sister as far away from this damn town as possible."
I swallowed my pride, chagrined and abashed, "I didn't know that ... I'm sorry."
He shrugged with a sigh, soft and slow, an exhale that promised false repose, "It doesn't matter, that was a lifetime ago." His head turned towards me, "Things are different now."
I felt my own self-pity growing, "You can say that again."
This drew a grin from him, "Things are indeed different now."
He wasn't wrong. Everything is different. I'm a member of a different gang, I'm engaged to a man I knew absolutely nothing about, and the love of my life thought it was I who turned him in. Before the raid on the compound, life wasn't perfect but it was good enough. None of us were greedy in that sense, we were content with our inferiority. In the grand scheme of this world, we were at the very bottom of society.
But we were wild and euphoric in our simplicity.
We were happy.
Then Rosen ordered the attack and half of us went from being happy to being dead. Now we're scattered in the wind with our leader serving twenty-five to life. How could we have fallen so far, so fast? What did the future hold for those who were broken and mourning? How could they survive this?
Perhaps I should ask Chris, he did it once.
Men like Chris, Dustin too, were a mystery to me. Chris faced incomprehensible pain at the loss of his sister and has been living in that perdition since the day his father promised revenge. But that night on the road, when Chris had the opportunity to partake in beating Dustin and finally get personal vindication on behalf of his murdered sister, he didn't. He chose not to participate. The fact that he stood by and let it happen still settled with me uneasily, but at least he wasn't the one throwing punches.
And Chris was just as morbidly surprised to hear about our betrothal as I was. Chris may not be a Tribe member, but that didn't make him an enemy by default.
I glanced in the leader's direction, growing queasy to see him chugging what would seem to be his fourth beer in a matter of minutes. He was celebrating his victory and it brought out the worst in me, "Don't take this the wrong way but I just can't picture that man as the 'fatherly' type."
Chris' laugh was unlike Rosen's in every sense, light and warm, not nearly as sinister or rattling. It was actually kind of nice to hear, a refreshing difference from the overall heinous atmosphere that lurked throughout this warehouse like smog, "What gives you that impression, his wonderful way with words or the polite way he tortures people into submission?"
Even I gave a soft humph of laughter, "Both I suppose."
"Well I'm sure you've realized by now that people like Dustin and I don't exactly get an ideal upbringing." He glanced towards Rosen and shrugged, no signs of adoring emotion anywhere in his gaze or expression. Only that cold subservience. "My mother always told my brothers and I that Rosen is our leader more than our father, hence the use of 'sir' instead of 'dad'." He hesitated though he didn't mean to, "Katrina was the only one who ever got to call him that."
At first, I considered Katrina to be lucky.
Rosen ruled his sons the same way he ruled his people, with an iron fist that knew nothing of kindness or compassion. Son after son was born, soldier after soldier, each one raised with unwavering loyalty through abuse both physical and mental. But Katrina was different from her brothers, her gender alone sparing her from her father's reign. He didn't know how to handle a female the same way he could handle his sons. So instead of disciplining her, he placed her on a pedestal.
But that didn't make Katrina lucky at all. It was because of her ostracized disposition that all of this has unfolded. If Rosen had lost a son to Dustin's father, Rosen wouldn't lift a finger to avenge him. Chris could have been kidnapped and cut down for days, weeks, and Rosen would have accepted his loss as an unfortunate cost of this lifestyle. But Katrina's individualism separated her from not only her family, but her birth gang as well. That exclusion was the reason I stood here today in the midst of a rivalry running thicker than blood.
Katrina wasn't lucky. Her childhood was superior to her brothers but far from what a child should ever have to experience.
I changed the subject because that thought was nailing painfully into my chest where it ached and festered, "You're mother, she's still alive then?" If it were true, she'd be the first woman I've heard of who has survived this vehement culture. Corinth's mother and step-mother, Dustin's mother, even my own; for whatever reason, there was a common pattern woven into our daily lives where females didn't last nearly as long as they should.
A pattern I'd fall victim too if this streak of violence continued.
Chris nodded with disinterest, "Yeah, she's alive. Last I heard, she's living somewhere on the east coast, as far away from here as her credit-card allows."
My eyebrows rose, "She had seven kids and just left them here with that monster?"
Chris shrugged again, obviously holding no sentiment towards this subject, "She left after Katrina passed away but my brothers and I were old enough by then to fend for ourselves. Even when my mother was around, she wasn't exactly nurturing." The worst part about this story was that Chris didn't sound upset. He was so accustomed to shitty parents that the idea of having an adult actually worry about him was a trifling concept, "I'm the oldest of my brothers so I got used to taking care of them a long time ago."
I could only imagine the things Chris must have lived through; I saw him as a small child feeding his brothers because their parents didn't have enough sense to do it, I saw him as a preteen joining his brothers in fights because if they didn't look out for one another no one would. I saw him as a young man accepting blame and beatings from Rosen to save his brothers from experiencing that maltreatment.
Again my eyes analyzed his five brothers, each one monitoring the party with the stature of guards to royalty. They didn't smile, they didn't lose focus. They hung near the shadows, silent as the night and watchful as the moon above. I couldn't picture any of them as ever being children.
"How do they feel about the whole engagement thing?" I asked, nodding towards his brothers since I couldn't point.
I had to bring up the topic of our marriage sooner or later and at least this way, I can pretend like the responses of Chris' brothers actually mattered. But their beliefs of our betrothal meant very little to me. Anyone who condoned this marriage was a scoundrel in my opinion, Rosen being a prime example.
Chris laughed at the way my face warped in disgust when saying the word 'engagement' and he waved off my question with a careless flick of his wrist, "They feel the same way about it as I do. I mean this with no disrespect but I'm not planning on getting married anytime soon, let alone to someone like you who isn't a Reaper through and through."
"So there's a way to reverse this?" I questioned with a little too much hope in my voice.
Chris was skeptical at best, "I'll talk to the captain."
That's what he considered reassurance?
He glanced towards me, pessimism breaching his words despite how hard he tried to hide it, "He's only doing this to hurt Dustin."
That sentence made my stomach clench, "I know."
"If your boyfriend is smart, he'll stay far away from here. If Rosen discovers that having you gives him no advantage over Dustin, he'll be more inclined to let you go." Chris thought it over then added, "Or he'll kill you. But I'd say it doesn't really matter because I don't foresee Dustin just leaving you here with the likes of us barbarians."
He said the last word with a wink but I was in no mood to joke, "He might. Dustin thinks I turned him in. The last time I saw him ..." The betrayal in his eyes still jabbed at my heart, "He was less than enthusiastic about seeing me. I wouldn't be surprised if he decides to leave me here."
There was no response from Chris for a long time before he snickered, "Obviously you know very little about Dustin King if you think he'd leave you here."
When I turned to face Chris, I found him lost to reverence of Dustin's nature. I only shook my head at him, "This rivalry has changed him. I think he's tired of watching people die."
Chris scoffed and pushed away from the fence, "What a stupid thing to say. We're all tired of watching people die. Remember that man you shot all those months ago? We grew up together, initiated at the same time, even graduated high school together. I'm not saying he was a saint, but he was a friend." He wouldn't meet my eyes because mine were the eyes of someone who pointed a barrel at his friend and pulled the trigger, "If Dustin is anything like me, and I know that he is, then this rivalry has only made him more determined to protect his people." Chris looked back at his father, "Then again, it has also made my father that much more determined to destroy Dustin entirely."
I didn't know how to console him because I didn't know this rivalry like he did. Chris has lived it from beginning to present, I entered only a few months ago, "I wish I could sympathize with your father but I can't condone causing so much misery in the name of retribution."
"Good, because it's not about retribution." Chris sounded not entirely convinced, on the edge between what I presented as the truth and what he believed to be the truth, "I'm sure it was about avenging Katrina in the beginning but now ..." He paused so much longer this time, staring up at the sky. Is that where he envisioned his sister the same way I thought of my mom? After an uncomfortably long silence, Chris asked, "Is it weird that I can't even remember what she looks like anymore? I see pictures and videos but I can't see her in them."
My throat closed from experience, "That happens when someone dies."
"But it's only been five years. What will I remember when I'm an old man?" Chris chuckled to himself, the thought of him living past thirty somehow amusing him, "I just can't imagine my father putting so much effort into a vendetta for someone he probably doesn't even remember."
"Children are different-" I began.
"Not for Rosen. I think it's pretty clear that justification for my father's actions doesn't come from revenge." He didn't sound bitter, he sounded empty, "I don't know. It's just something I think about sometimes."
He made a valid point. All these years, all this time and energy, it couldn't possibly be wasted on avenging Katrina. Rosen got that vengeance the night he killed Dustin's entire family. After that night, everything was settled between the gangs but Rosen continued in search of appeasing something else. He was trying to commemorate something else.
But what was it if not the death of his daughter?
What were Rosen's true intentions, not only for Dustin but for us all?
I leaned over to ask Chris, pleasantly engrossed in our conversation, but before another word was said between us, the familiar roar of a motorcycle engine signaled someone's rapid approach to the warehouse. No, not one motorcycle. Two. Two very distinct motorcycles that I'd recognize anywhere.
Oh shit ...
"Oh shit." Chris mirrored, staring off into the distance where we both knew two men rocketed towards the warehouse on machines that broke barriers of speed. Chris' apprehension returned, his shoulders going taut and his voice becoming sullen in leaden morose, "I didn't think they'd get here so quickly."
Across the lot, Rosen's head rose into the air as though he could smell Dustin's scent on the southbound breeze. Even from where I stood, I saw his teeth glint against moonlight as a wicked smile appeared. He's been waiting for this, and he's ready.
From my side, Chris stepped closer and his presence buzzed beside me with a stodgy charge, "Listen to me very closely Sadie. Everything is about to get much, much worse. I'm going to do what I can to help you, and Dustin, but I need you to do exactly as I say, do you understand?" The look I gave him must have been something terrible because he took hold of my elbow, driving his fingers tightly into my arm to coerce me to understand, "I won't make you any promises because we both know it'll mean nothing, but my brothers and I will do everything in our power to keep this from ending the way Rosen plans."
He began leaving and my panic exploded, "Wait! What do you mean? What's going on-"
"Just remember, you do as I say when I say it." His tone was clipped, shedding that friendly warmth he used with me and returning to the brutal killer his father raised.
Then he rose his hand to heed his brothers and began jogging towards where Rosen was nearing the front gate, still left open as if welcoming Dustin with wide, ghastly arms. Beckoning him to enter, inviting him to his own massacre.
Pulling at my arms proved to be futile and only resulted in grating lesions around my wrists.
Corinth and Eli raced towards the gate to meet the two men riding up on their motorcycles, parking the moment they crossed onto Reaper land while the inhabitants glided closer on feet that moved too slow for their speed. Through the hindrance of night, I saw a tuff of golden blonde hair. That was Lumiere. While concocting this plan, his job had been to wait at the jailhouse for Dustin while Corinth, Eli, and I traveled here to negotiate terms. So if Lumiere was here that meant ...
I saw him.
Dustin had jumped from his bike long before it came to a full stop, careless for whether the machine landed upright or on its side as he left it hazardously in the way. Then he was crossing the lot towards Rosen with a horde of darkness that tumbled around him like storm clouds as though those shadows craved to stay close but wouldn't dare touch him. As if, this darkness originated from Dustin himself.
So much like the beast of my nightmares.
With each new realization that my dreams were coming true came a wave of disbelief for such irrational perceptions. It made no sense, none of this held any logical support. And yet, images of black smoke dripping from the skeleton's empty eye sockets flared in my mind, memories of my nightmares that burst to life in reality when I noticed similar specters lingering just above Dustin's cheeks, right below his eyes. I convinced myself they were only bruises, they had to be bruises ... but maybe they weren't ...
"Who says miracles don't exist?" Rosen proclaimed while his men gathered around. Dustin strode up to Rosen on powerful legs, pumping him forward with adrenaline coursing through his veins that supplied each step with enough potency to agitate the ground. Rosen smiled at his advance, expecting Dustin's anger as were we all, "How does it feel to be a free man once again?"
"Give her back."
The command was lethal, dripping with poison and branded with corrosive damnation. The crowd around me, most of all Chris, were in startled awe at Dustin's assertive demands. They were wondering the same thing I was; had Dustin lost his mind?
From where he now stood at close proximity to Rosen, I saw the full state of Dustin's being. Bruises blotched random patches across the entirety of his skin, covering his shoulders and arms, and one particularly grisly bruise crept up the side of his neck as though someone beat that particular spot in repetition. Remnants of the burns merged with the bruises, blood now clotted around where the flesh had been scorched and melted.
The upper part of his bicep was wrapped tightly in a cloth stained by blood, so full of absorption that the maroon liquid now dripped down his arm as though his veins had been purged from his skin, resting on the surface rather than below. The blood tangled down his arm, twisting around his wrist like branches without leaves or spider webs, before dripping off his fingertips and splashing onto the ground, leaving a trail where he walked. This wound, unlike the others, was fresh.
The shot I heard over the phone ... Rosen said the man missed.
Overall, Dustin looked no better than when I visited him. Still beaten to hell and retaining barely enough strength to keep himself conscious. But his anger fueled his energy, and at least now he was away from those monsters, able to fight back if need be.
Any animal, when locked in a cage, is viewed as harmless. Without the chains, Dustin was a man even Rosen was wary of.
"I can't give her back if she was never yours to begin with, King. I guess you neglected to tell the wench that without claiming a gang, she's fair game. And oh look, " Rosen motioned towards where I was tied to the fence, "She's mine now."
Dustin's eyes landed on my figure and his muscles turned to stone, eyes blazing at seeing me prisoner to someone like Rosen. His eyebrows dipped low and a muscle worked in his jaw as teeth gritted and joints grinded. I've had my fair share of experiences with Dustin's rage, but I've never seen him like this. His voice was rocked by demonic proportions, "Like hell she is."
"Don't believe me?" Rosen mocked, giving Dustin the simplest of shrugs before clapping a heavy hand to Chris' shoulder, "Perhaps my son can shed some light on the topic. After all, they're engaged. It would be such a pity to break up the happy couple before they have time for their honeymoon."
Dustin turned towards Chris and the fire in his eyes turned nuclear, "She can't marry him. He's twenty-seven."
Whoa nelly.
No one told me Chris, the Reaper Vice and my soon to be husband, is twenty-seven? I had a hard enough time getting over the six year gap between Dustin and I, but nine years? It's only three years more, sure, but it feels like a lifetime. No wonder Chris said he didn't plan on marrying someone like me, he'd consider himself a cradle robber.
As if sensing my inner reflections, Rosen glanced towards me with a smirk and leaned closer to Dustin, speaking at him directly with a wink that implied his devious thoughts, "Word on the street is that she likes older men."
"You son of a-" Dustin was mid sentence when he finally reached Rosen, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him sideways while Reapers and Tribe alike tried separating the two before they killed one another. There was yelling, and threats, perhaps a punch or two, but I couldn't see clearly from my position near the fence.
Eli and Lumiere managed to pull Dustin back while Corinth spoke prudent words in his ear, but Dustin's aim shifted and the warnings of his cousin were lost as violet eyes fell on Chris, his next victim, "What the fuck is the matter with you? You get your kicks from marrying the first girl that doesn't run away from you screaming, you sick freak?!"
Even as Dustin grabbed at him roughly, Chris rose his hands into the air, remaining insouciant to appease his father but exhibiting clear uneasiness at the level of fury directed at him from Dustin, "Hey man, I didn't make the decision. Rosen made the offer and the girl accepted." When Dustin's irate exterior splintered at this news, Chris quickly added, "To save you. She accepted, to save you."
As if that made my decision any less traitorous.
This time Dustin's gaze found mine, still just as vacant as when I visited him earlier today but now also eliciting outrageous confusion. He still thinks I turned him in to the police and now, after coming to rescue me despite such a preposterous lie, he finds out I'm not only joining a rival gang but marrying one of them as well.
The amount of pain in his eyes from thinking I betrayed him, not once but twice, manufactured a toxic sting that heated my cheeks and leaked from the cracks in my decimated heart.
Rosen recovered from Dustin's attack, no clear indication of any injury on him, but the curl of his fists hinted towards his anger at being assaulted, "Well Dustin, it seems you have lost your sense of manners in the presence of another leader. But don't worry, we'll remedy that without delay." Rosen snapped his fingers, "Chris. Bring me your wife."
There was another commotion, started by Dustin who was spewing insults although Lumiere was just as active in this assembly by barking a slur of suggestions as to where Rosen could 'shove it'. Chris appeared in front of me, hastily untying my hands while he rushed out under his breath, "I'm only going to warn you once. Don't do anything stupid."
Me? Do something stupid?
Always.
With my hands free and aching from where the rope had rubbed my skin raw, Chris dragged me back towards his father with a grip that was misleadingly gentle. It was clear by now that Chris was playing both sides, doing his best to mollify his father while also trying to keep me out of harm's way. I still wasn't sure why but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't grateful.
The moment Chris and I neared, Rosen hooked an arm around my neck and yanked me close. The stench of beer on his breath fanned across my face as he laughed at me, husky and deep, making me gag and reel. Dustin was seething, the very sight of me in Rosen's clutches being enough to tip that internal scale between logic and unrestrained rage.
For the first time, I witnessed Dustin's eyes go black with that inner darkness and his essence became foreign to me, "I'm only going to say this once. If you favor that arm, you'll let her go before I break it off."
Rosen's grip around my neck only tightened in offense, cutting at my airway which caused me to gasp, "How dare you, boy. After all I've done for you over these years, you're going to get bent over some bitch?" Rosen planted his hand over my face and dug his fingers into my skin, conjuring searing pain when his grip threatened to crush bone, "I am honestly disappointed in you, kid. I thought you had more sense than that. After what happened the first time, I would have thought you learned your lesson."
I managed to suppress yelps of pain for Dustin's sake though a single, quiet whimper escaped. That's all it took. Even though I could no longer see Dustin, his voice was carried on a gust of sudden and pitiless wind that grazed against my skin like sand in a storm, "That's a decent lie, I give you recognition for trying. But we both know you're just pissed off because my so called lesson came at the price of your daughter."
Silence.
Deafening and grueling silence.
Rosen's hand fell away from my face, granting me sight once more, and I found that the crowd, even Corinth and Eli but less so Lumiere who watched on in agreement, stood with dropped jaws and wide eyes towards what Dustin just lashed against the chief Reaper. A statement that embodied the highest level of disrespect and the palpable taste of disdain.
I could feel Rosen's anger radiating off his body like steam from a kettle, making his skin scalding to the touch. But Dustin was unaffected by the hated in Rosen's gaze. In fact, I'd say Dustin embraced it. As though the look of Rosen flustered were a drug and Dustin has been weeks without his fix, bringing forth a grin unlike any I've ever seen.
A grin that wasn't his, at least, not one I've never witnessed. I didn't recognize it, I didn't recognize him. That diabolical exhibition of corrupted intentions and joy gained from causing someone else unimaginable pain, was a grin that belonged to someone of phenomenal evil. In that moment, Dustin was gone. His love for Katrina and her memory were gone. His love for me, eradicated. All that remained was the putrefying suit of a man who has lost so much that even his soul threatened to flee.
Perhaps it already had.
"Oh Dustin." Rosen began in a voice so low that it cracked and vibrated, "I knew I should have killed you with the rest of your godforsaken family."
The light in his eyes snuffed out; the last bit of humanity Dustin managed to cling to through these years of suffering and misery, it vanished. Just like that. After all the exertion to keep it, after all the labor to stay clear like water in a universe of oil; one comment stripped him free of benevolence.
One comment did what no human could.
"Yes, Rosen. You should have killed me that night." Dustin's tone was raw, scraping from the back of his throat and from deep within his chest where malicious loathing and boiling vengeance collided into a molten basin of unquenchable indignation, "But you didn't. A mistake that's going to get you killed because I'm going to personally deliver you to hell on a goddamn silver platter."
Rosen didn't give in to the glaring threat of his opponent, although he wasn't entirely unruffled either, "You can't kill me. We have too much fun."
"And yet you've tried killing me too many times to count." Dustin fired back.
"Ah yes, but I haven't yet." Rosen's arm around my neck went rigid, as though the very particles under his skin were turning to stone, "Care to find out why?"
Dustin must have suspected a trap and those obscured eyes of blustering magenta convolutions befell my subdued composure, "Rosen I swear to god-"
"Give your new wife a kiss, son." Rosen's demand came swift and loud, so that all could hear but none could refute. Before I had time to react, I felt Chris' hands on my arms, directing me towards him. Then he leaned forward in absence of hesitation and pecked my lips, quick but sharp. Like stabbing rather than showing affection. Obedient to Rosen's orders but barely even a kiss, a standard Rosen wouldn't accept, "No, Chris, give her a real kiss. One that Dustin can appreciate."
Chris sighed, all too aware of the way Dustin's kindled scowl promised impending agony if he followed through with his father's orders after already having the audacity to kiss me. Lumiere dropped two hands onto Dustin's shoulders, holding his leader in place in the happenstance that Dustin got the urge to sever Chris' head from his body. Even Eli was trembling in rage, relying on Corinth's grounding touch to keep him in line though Corinth looked just as close to attacking as her cousin did.
Chris' eyes met mine in what looked like shame but he bowed his head towards me anyways, cautious but not noticeably so for his father would reprimand him if he thought Chris were rejecting a direct command. I heard Chris whisper "I'm sorry" against my mouth as he took my chin between his fingers and pressed his lips roughly against mine.
My instincts flared and ordered me to pull away, then punch him until the bones in my fist broke the bones in his face. But what was the point? As much as I wanted to deny it, I have no other choice, no remaining hope. As Rosen said, I'm a Reaper now by witness of everyone here and he has already made it very clear of what happens when I defy him.
I can't risk Dustin getting hurt anymore, or worse, sent back to jail.
All I have left is what persisted in my dignity and the prayer that somehow, watching me kiss another man won't rupture Dustin completely. So instead of fighting as I should have, I closed my eyes to shut out the painful throbbing of my heart as it hammered in my chest. I disabled my ability to feel and took comfort in the cold darkness that filled me so entirely because the feeling of that vacancy was better than the feeling of being violated. In front of a hundred people. Chris kissed me.
And all I could think was that this kiss felt nothing like Dustin's.
An eternity later, Chris stepped back, keeping his eyes cast down. Not risking a glance in Dustin's direction. I hadn't enough sense to follow Chris' lead. I looked to Dustin instantly, because that's what I always did in situations like this. When I'm scared or distraught or in need of solace, Dustin is my rock. He calmed the vortex inside my mind and tamed the fire that burned at my core.
But what I saw offered no comfort.
His eyes, his frown, and the inhuman ripple of fury under his skin as muscles coiled and tensed like a snake gliding under sand ... none of it was Dustin. Like a puppeteer to his actions, it was as though someone else were making him move and act. Someone so much more neurotic and sadistic.
"This is why I keep you alive, King." Rosen was lost in his sinful delight, grin stretched wide that produced a youthful glow on his weathered expression, "Because the look on your face in this moment is worth so much more than your death."
Dustin wasn't paying any attention to his words as Rosen continued on, rambling about the joy it will be to use me as his pawn, again and again, for many years to come. Dustin was only staring at me, pissed and fuming, but still somehow diluting that anger when staring into my eyes.
Because even now, after he's lost everything – including me – he couldn't bare to be the one that made the tears in my eyes spill over.
I saw how his arms twitched forward, desperately wanting to hold me and assure me that everything will be fine. And I felt my body urging me to run to him and let his warm embrace chase away our problems. But I couldn't, and he couldn't, because our time for that has passed. All we have now are memories and lingering feelings that once held merit but now only hold emptiness.
Leaving a cavernous hole where our love once had been.
"I'm going to kill you Rosen." Dustin grumbled absentmindedly while he watched a single tear drip from my eye and roll down my cheek. In that tear was our shared pain, so much that it left salty streaks across my skin that burned as though set to flame. He watched that tear and in it's fire he vowed, "If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to kill you."
He didn't realize how accurate his promise would become.
Rosen humphed in disbelief, trying to read Dustin in preparation for what would come next. But he couldn't. Even I couldn't read Dustin at times. He was an open book but written in a foreign language, or a song with a tune I recognized but couldn't remember. There were moments in which Dustin was like a pond; tranquil and smooth, unaffected by the outside world save for the few he held closest. But more often than not, Dustin was like the ocean.
Bottomless and unpredictable, just as likely to look like calm water when he was actually a hurricane.
However, in this moment he was none of these things. In this moment, Dustin King was a phenomena that even God couldn't conjure.
"It has become quite clear to me that you hold no regard for the concept of respect." Rosen snapped, ignoring his better judgment to let the giant sleep, "But fear not. I plan on teaching you exactly what happens when you let that temper make threats at someone like me." Rosen turned a heated glare first towards his eldest son then at me with coarse, predatory eyes that devoured me even as he stared. He ordered through a dogmatic snarl, "Take the girl inside and teach her the place of a woman."
My place? As in ... was Rosen commanding Chris to ...
Dustin roared out a curse that had the very ground shaking in repent, and he rushed forward in a fit of blind fury while Lumiere, Eli, and Corinth followed after him. But even with Dustin's power on our side, we were outnumbered here. Reapers surged forward like the tide, swooping up each of my friends and entrapping them in limbs that kept them away. Two men had trouble restraining Lumiere while he bucked violently in their hold, another man had Eli sprawled on his back, and Corinth was caught by her hair despite how she ripped at the strands to get free.
Of them all it was Dustin who drew eyes, three men now holding him back while that grim ferocity sailed through the air, slicing and electrifying the space around us until the tension became suffocating. Even Rosen felt it. He stepped back, giving a wide berth to the man none would dare cross save for the few pathetic Reapers who unwillingly volunteered to keep Dustin at bay.
"What do you want, Rosen?" Dustin's booming voice sent us all back and echoed for miles in all directions as though not even the air ventured to reduce his inquiry as it traveled. He peered up through dark lashes and hooded eyes, similar more to the devil in that moment than a man, "There is no need to make anyone else suffer because of your hatred for me. So tell me what you want."
Rosen saw how this would end if he didn't intervene, so that's what he did. One nimble wave of his hand silenced the crowd, most of them seemed grateful that they wouldn't have to witness the mayhem of Dustin King's legendary rage. Rosen was stuck somewhere between a smile and a glare, resulting in a look of slovenly distaste as though he caught the scent of a rotting corpse. With that strange expression still stapled to his face, he leaned down to meet eye level with Dustin and said, "Beg."
This sparked confusion amongst the crowd but it was Dustin's livid voice that demanded an explanation, "Beg for what?"
Rosen gestured towards me, "I want you to beg me to spare her."
Oh hell no. I shoved myself forward, "Dustin don't you dare!"
"Shut her up!" Rosen shouted and Chris' hand came around my mouth to stifle any further outburst. I threw elbows at him and jerked at my limbs, trying to get free because Dustin needed to know that my safety wasn't worth degrading himself to comply with Rosen's narcissistic desires. But Chris' hold was too tight and the narrow of his eyes suggested that this was the kind of stupid thing he had previously warned me not to do.
But I continued to contend his restraint. Everyone here was terrified of Rosen, myself included, but I refused to be the reason Dustin disgraces himself.
Dustin watched me struggle, and his eyes closed momentarily to contain that rage warring inside him, raising his pulse and boiling his blood. Like trying to catch lightning in a jar, his power couldn't – shouldn't – be contained. Dustin's wrath was a force too great for the mortal confines of this world but still, like all times before, he managed that anger for me. Then he forced out through a locked jaw, "Please don't."
Rosen laughed, holding hands to his stomach to emphasize the humor he saw in Dustin's plea, "That's not nearly good enough, my boy."
He rounded Dustin, stopping behind him and placing both his hands on Dustin's shoulders. Rosen then jammed a foot to the back of Dustin's leg while shoving him down. Gravity became a weakness and brought Dustin to his knees while Rosen grabbed at his hair, wrenching his head one way then the other to prove to everyone, and Dustin, that control belonged to those who took it, "That's more like it. This is where you belong King, in the dirt, at my mercy."
That statement was a slap to the face, one Dustin didn't take well, "I don't give a shit about your self righteousness, you pompous dick. This has always been between you and me. If you want to punish someone, then punish me. Let the rest of them go and we'll settle this however you want."
"All in due time, kid. You'll get yours." Rosen broke out into hysterical laughter, tsking at Dustin while wagging a finger in front of his eyes, "That certainly didn't sound like begging though. Are you really going to give up the only chance you have to save your girl?"
Dustin's powerful shoulders rose and fell quickly as his anger continued to circulate out of control, "I'm going to say this once more Rosen. Let the girl go, now."
"Or what?" Rosen challenged.
"Or I'm going to personally slit your throat and watch the dust pour out."
Rosen shrugged, pulling at Dustin's hair again to make a point of power, "Not if I kill you first."
We all saw Dustin roll his eyes, "If you could kill me, you would have done so by now. I speak for everyone, you as well, when I say that this prolonged game of yours is boring at best."
"Oh really?" Rosen reprimanded, shifting his hold and sliding his hands down the sides of Dustin's head to his shoulders then finally to his neck, as though Rosen intended to choke the life out of him. The sight of those grotesque hands on Dustin had my heart stammering in trepidation because I sensed, as Dustin did, that something wasn't right. Dustin's anger was power just as Rosen's control was power, but Rosen's control was slipping from him, "Then let's make it a little more interesting, shall we?"
Whatever this feeling of foreboding, I moved forward as if to permeate the tension before any further suffering could insure but Chris' secure hold on my arm hauled me back while he hissed in my ear, "Don't, you'll only make it worse."
Make it worse? Make what worse?
Two men took each of Dustin's arms, holding him in place on his knees while Rosen reclaimed his spot in front of Dustin, peering down at him with a stare that veiled his true intentions. Dustin didn't shy from that scowl but I saw the way he waited impatiently for Rosen to state the nature of Dustin's punishment.
"Bring me the ex-Reaper." Rosen articulated.
Wait ... what?
There was a small scuffle within the crowd before Lumiere was brought forward, half shoved and half dragged by several Reapers who were trying to detain him. When close enough, Rosen latched onto his hair and lifted Lumiere's head until their eyes met even as he struggled to get free. Pale green found black and a contest of wits ensured between them. But it was Rosen who beamed like a madman, "Well, well, well. I never thought I'd see you standing here again, Gabriel."
Lumiere's upper lip curled backwards in repugnance, "Don't call me that."
Rosen's smile was replaced with genuine displeasure, "You think changing your name changes who you are? Your father gave you his name because he thought you'd be worth something as a Reaper, but I think it's safe to say you've disappointed him."
Lumiere ripped his hair free from Rosen's tight grasp and shoved his face forward, wearing animosity and pride like a second skin, "Good."
Rosen sighed, dropping his hand to his side with a loud slap against his thigh, "You may be Tribe scum now, but you're as much a Reaper as I am."
Lumiere laughed, either with courage or with insanity, then spit into the face of death, "I'm nothing like you, old man. Do me a favor and fuck off."
Rosen didn't recoil at the saliva now dripping down his cheek from where Lumiere's spit made contact. He simply wiped it away and chuckled, glancing back towards Dustin who watched the spectacle with growing unrest, "You raise them well, Dustin. Fearless and loyal. I have to say, I'm impressed. You took this coward and turned him into a man."
Though still held down by several of Rosen's men, Dustin found the strength to lurch forward. Not far enough to reach his Vice but enough to make Rosen flinch, "Get away from him. This is between you and me, he has nothing to do with this."
"Right you are, my boy." Rosen took hold of Lumiere's jaw in a hand that knew not of lenity, "But this kid and I go way back, long before he ever met you. He's practically family-"
"Sure, the most dysfunctional family ever." Lumiere jeered despite the grip that pitted his cheeks inward.
Rosen leaned closer to Lumiere, tilting his head slightly while he said, "Want to know a secret, Gabriel? I have always appreciated your eyes. They look so much like Katrina's." His tone went soft, "They're quite beautiful."
Lumiere hollered in laughter, his cheeks splurging around Rosen's fingers, "You wanna kiss me too? At least buy me dinner first."
Ignoring the dripping sarcasm of Lumiere's suggestion, Rosen turned towards where Dustin was bowed into the dirt, kicking pebbles towards him with the toe of his boot, "I empathize with you, Dustin. I really do. Being a leader isn't easy, especially when you're so young, and with all that power comes a shit ton of responsibility. But we have to be the ones to make hard decisions, that's just the nature of our position."
"I must have missed your point amongst your senseless rambling." Dustin retorted.
Rosen sauntered closer, "I've always thought of myself as a mentor so I'm going to help you Dustin. Consider this your first official decision as a leader."
As if Dustin hasn't been making decisions since the moment Donovan burned.
"I'm a man of collection, I enjoy rare items. Take Sadie for instance, an outsider with more guts than any of my men. She's at the heart of my collection. And now, there is something else I want." Rosen squatted in front of Dustin, meeting his dark gaze with a glower that danced in patronizing deceit, "I want Lumiere's eye." His smile widened, "To hang on my wall."
Oh god ... I'm going to be sick.
"Well looks like you're shit out of luck because I don't give a fuck what you want." Dustin growled, "You've lost your damn mind if you think I'm going to let you take his eye."
"Just as I hoped, my point exactly. You see, you have a choice to make, King." Rosen stood up again, holding his hands out in front of him, lifting each one while weighing two very different offers, "By all means, save his eye. But in doing so, you will doom your rider to getting a little riding of her own. Or you can save the girl and grant me the opportunity to take one of those gorgeous eyes as a souvenir for all the shit he has caused me in the past." Rosen glanced back at Lumiere, "It'll be nice to see my daughter's eyes again."
That next moment hung in a frozen frame. No one moved, no one breathed. As if someone paused time to let this last moment of complacency persevere. Then everyone was moving, everyone was screaming, and above it all, Rosen stood amongst the chaos with that ever present feline grin.
Then Reapers were dragging Lumiere away while he fought them, kicking furiously against those who subdued his arms. Dustin was shouting a halt to their advances, thrusting against every Reaper that came his way while trying to get to Lumiere in a desperate panic to save him. But while I watched this unfold from the secure grip of Chris' hold, the same thought kept ringing in my head, over and over again with each rapid pulse of my heart.
Coming here was a mistake.
Dustin was better off in jail.
I tugged roughly on Chris' arm, near tears and willing to beg in ways Dustin never would, "Please, do something! You have to do something! You can't let Rosen do this!"
Chris was analyzing the scene with alert eyes, too wide but too somber, darting from one person to the next. I saw the way his thoughts rolled through him, each one presenting itself then waning into oblivion as he calculated the outcomes. Ultimately, he came to the same conclusion I had and his head hung forward in mortifying defeat, "I'm sorry Sadie, I can't stop this."
Lumiere was flipped onto his back where four men pinned each of his limbs to the ground. Once Lumiere was indisputably restrain, Rosen held his hands up to solicit silence yet again.
Those who had been piled on top of Dustin stepped back, revealing that Dustin's hands had been tied crudely behind his back with wire that ripped past skin and bit into bone. Mud caked half of his face, blood stained the other. But neither substance hindered the look of unparalleled resentment provoked by Rosen's hostility.
Ever the theatrical performer, Rosen squatted down in front of Dustin's collapsed body, picking at a strand of hair that had fallen into Dustin's eyes, "I feel your pain, son. Truly, I do. Being the leader isn't all it's cracked up to be huh? Times like these arise." He nodded towards Lumiere, then me, "You can save one person, only one. Who's it going to be King? The broad or the bastard?"
Dustin's anger took him beyond despair. Whatever part of him that survived Katrina's murder, and his family's murder, and Donovan's murder, was shot to hell. Leaving in its wake a man who has spent his whole life watching everyone around him die. This man was broken from the inside out, being held together with pins and needles that were unraveling before our very eyes.
He was barely even a person anymore, only an aura of where one had been. But that man has been decaying for a very long time, breaks of happiness slipped between one lifelong stretch of misery. Tonight would be the end of that misery, because it would be the end of him if Rosen carried out with his threat.
Whether it be me who suffers or Lumiere, it didn't matter. With our pain will come the destruction of Dustin King.
"I can't make that choice, you know I can't." Dustin pushed into a sitting position despite his hands still bound behind his back. It was his gaze that did the mediating, wide eyes lost to a mauve vortex and a creased brow that rendered terror, "Punish me, Rosen. This is me begging you, to punish me. I'm the one you want."
"This is your punishment." Rosen informed vindictively, "You have to make a choice."
A round of insults sounded from where Lumiere lay on his back and Dustin's head snapped sideways to stare at his Vice whose limbs had become one with the cement and whose head was being held steady by beefy hands to reduce agility.
My heart shattered like crystal when I saw Lumiere smiling, "Don't hesitate, man. Save your girl."
That sentence alone sent Dustin in a downward spiral. He shook his head, staring at his friend – his brother – as if he could actually condemn him to a fate worse than death, "No, I won't do that to you. I'm your leader, it's my job to protect you."
Lumiere lifted his shoulders in a difficult shrug. I've never seen someone so terrified but so accepting. This time when he spoke, his tone was riddled with emotions rallying from misplaced turmoil to sanctioned perturbation, and he repeated something I've heard before, "We aren't kids anymore, brother. Remember that."
Dustin couldn't look away, still shaking his head under unbearable weight which threatened to demolish him without pardon. How could someone make such a decision, to sentence someone they love to getting their eye gouged out? We couldn't expect Dustin to agree, to choose which one of us faces consequence.
I couldn't let this happen.
They were here because of me. The fact that they tried to save me at all should be enough. It was a valiant effort and though it gained no triumph, it was more than I could have ever hoped for. But I can't take advantage of their endeavors. They have done all that they can to protect me and as I told myself when I accepted Rosen's invitation in the first place, the favor must be returned.
It was my turn to be the hero.
"It's okay." I said this mainly to Dustin because it was him who needed to understand more than the rest.
When his head lifted, I saw how blood and bruises collided on his face like war paint. Dustin was indeed a fighter, born to protect those he cared for. But warriors, even legendary ones, have their limits. And this was one limit Dustin shouldn't have to face. Not when everything that has happened has been my fault. From the moment I met him in that alley, taunting and ridiculing him to force his hand, I set a string of events in motion that has led us here.
This is my responsibility.
I smiled, a true smile, because it would convince Dustin more than my words ever could, and I said again to accentuate my choice, "It's okay."
Somehow Dustin forced his way onto his feet and with one quick breath he concluded, "No."
Dustin and I both knew what Rosen was demanding his son to do and such traumatizing affairs was a nightmare Dustin wouldn't wish upon anyone, especially someone like me who has yet to experience the kind of intimacy that would happen once Chris agreed to his father's orders. But my punishment compared to Lumiere's ... how could I let him face that?
Rosen huffed from where he now stood, propping his cheek on his fist in fatigue, "I'm getting tired of this humanitarian bullshit. Make a decision, Dustin."
Remarkably, my voice was unyielding when I responded, "The decision has been made."
"No-" Dustin began again, wild eyes darting from me to Lumiere and back again, "No it's not. I won't make this decision. I won't let you hurt them. If you want to punish me then punish me! Stop bringing other people into our dispute-"
"Oh well, time is up." Rosen insinuated, swatting at his frayed jeans, "I expected so much more from you, Dustin. I gave you the chance to save one of them and you threw it right out the window."
On instinct I glanced towards Lumiere, "A decision was made, I said-"
"That's the problem. You said it, even Lumiere said it. An honorable attempt on behalf of you both." Rosen's expression was hard, drilling into Dustin's disoriented eyes when the aftermath of this situation became known, "But I wanted Dustin to make the decision and he didn't. So I am withdrawing my offer."
Dustin started towards the chief Reaper, pulling dangerously at the wire still strapped around his wrists in a determined effort to free himself even if that meant losing both his hands in the process, "Rosen, I am asking you as a fellow leader and as someone you once considered a son-in-law. Please, don't bring innocent lives into this-"
"My daughter was innocent!" Rosen barked back, his cool composure momentarily crumbling. Finally his true conceptions came to light and he sent Dustin onto his back with a brutal kick, "You were suppose to protect her, that was your only priority. Instead, I get woken in the middle of the night to discover that my baby girl has been slaughtered by your mutt of a father! And for what? Because you two were in love? Because your damned father wanted to teach his men a lesson? Explain that to me King, explain to me how my daughter was at fault for your mistake!"
"I'm sorry." Dustin mumbled, each word lashing against him as though Rosen's accusations were whips instead of syllables, "I'm so, so sorry."
"That won't bring my daughter back ... and that won't save your friends. I've decided to condemn you to the same hell I've been living in for five years. Never again will you protect the ones you love. Never again will you be considered anything other than a failure as a leader and a failure as a man." His lip curled back, baring teeth like a rabid animal, and he rose both hands, one pointing at Lumiere and the other pointing at me, "Take his eye, take her body."
"No!" Dustin yelled but the decision was written in stone and in blood.
I was so busy watching Lumiere that I didn't notice Chris' arms around my waist until he was urging me backwards, towards the warehouse. In a daze, I followed after him, absent to my own fate because I was far too concerned with Lumiere's.
Then a breath of a sentence drifted into my ear, "Make a scene. Fight me."
With my emotions kicked into overdrive and resonating from my body on piercing screams and flailing limbs, I initiated a brawl against Chris with every ounce of pent up rage and fright. He lifted me into the air and began hauling me towards the warehouse, at which point I began throwing fists to his face and his back, using Dustin's lessons to inflict as much damage as possible.
I may be marked for agony but I won't play into Rosen's amusement. He needed to see that I won't go down without a fight.
"Let her go!" Dustin thundered, using his shoulders to shove past the first line of men who came to stop him. But without use of his hands, Dustin was at a severe disadvantage and it wasn't long before he was back on the ground, helpless as ever.
Dustin has always been able to fight his way out of a problem. But it wasn't enough this time. There were too many enemies and as they accumulated around him, we both came to the same culmination. He couldn't get past them.
He couldn't get to me.
Suddenly, I felt my body flying through the air and my back collided against the main doors to the warehouse. The air was knocked from my lungs and fresh tears accumulated in my eyes at the pain. Chris' hand came up to grip my neck, holding me tightly but not enough to choke me.
"Cut it out, bitch!" He bellowed in my face, stepping so close that I could feel his lips move on my cheeks when he whispered so only I could hear, "Keep fighting, don't stop."
I rammed my knee upwards, administering my signature move that Dustin could testify to due to personal experience. Chris clearly hadn't expected such an aggressive attack and doubled over in pain while I tried stepping around him to get back to Dustin and Lumiere. Was it bad that I didn't feel sorry for hurting him?
Shock swept through the crowd at my impudence of attacking the Reaper Vice, whether that was good or bad was lost to me. I had only one destination in mind, only one sight. But before I got even close, Chris closed a crushing grip around my wrist, nearly dislocating my shoulder when he pitched me back towards the door.
"Fine, have it your way." Chris exasperated as he recovered. Then I found myself thrown over his shoulder, raising me above the crowd just enough for me to see where my friends still remained.
Eli was fighting, making slow progress towards Lumiere. But it was a losing battle. Each step forward only resulted in five steps back. Eli would never get to him in time. Even with Corinth following up behind him, a duo I once thought none could conquer. But no matter how many Reapers they took out, more arrived to replace the unconscious ones. A never ending supply that kept them just out of reach.
My eyes found Dustin's and for that split second, I caught a glimpse into his pain. Into what he's been feeling since the moment his father branded him with that sigil and cursed him to a life of misery. This was his world, his internal demons given materialistic form and welcomed to reality. A living nightmare. This is the hell he's been living in since he was five. And it continued, on and on, until the end of his days.
He lay on his side now, two Reapers standing over him with abusive intentions indicated by the cracking of their knuckles, but still Dustin only stared after me, apologizing with his eyes for what was about to happen. I didn't blame him but he blamed himself, and that was so much worse.
Beyond where Dustin lay, Lumiere was prepped for his torture. Flat on his back with so many people holding him down that there was barely enough room for the man who arrived with a dull, rusty knife. That man pushed his way through, bracing his knee on Lumiere's chest, the knife nearing ever closer to his face.
There was nothing I could do, nothing anyone could do, to stop this.
When they realized Dustin's attention was focused elsewhere, one of the men standing over him took a firm grip on his head and wrestled his head to the side, forcing him to watch just as blood misted into the air and Lumiere's screams split through the sky. In that second, it didn't matter where Dustin looked because all he saw was red.
Then the doors slammed shut and I was cut off from the event outside, but those screams slipped through the cracks, slithering through every possible crevice to invade my ears with such penetrating intensity that it brought instant tears to my eyes and devastating anguish to my heart.
"I'm sorry." Chris mumbled as he set me down, holding me close to his chest to keep me on my feet as I trembled violently. But like Rosen said, apologies mean nothing.
Apologies change nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IMPORTANT!!
So I suck as a human being. Yes this chapter is RIDICULOUSLY late but I also made it RIDICULOUSLY long (longest chapter yet) because I felt awful about taking so long to update! From now on, expect a chapter on Friday's like usual but also be aware that there is a solid 85.7692% chance that my updating schedule is going to be a little wonky for a while because it's my final month of college before graduation. So please bare with me!
As always please vote, follow, and leave me lots of comments about how you hate me for what I did to Lumiere ;)
Thanks again my lovelies!
xoxo