Текст книги "Fable of Happiness book three"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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CHAPTER TWO

I’D MOTHERFUCKING KILL HIM.

Whoever the fuck he was, he was dead.

I let loose.

All the anger inside me.

All the worry.

The heartache.

The pain, the shame, the abuse—it all mushroom clouded inside. Black and riddled with rot. Twisted and disfigured, an entity I could no longer control.

It ballooned and smothered everything.

It overtook my soul, turning me empty and free.

Free.

Fuck, I was finally free.

Free to make them pay.

Free to embrace the never-ending violence inside me.

I’d run from this level of anger for eleven goddamn years. I’d hidden from it. Ignored it. Done my best to forget it, but it was always there.

A companion inside me. A whisper in my head. A scar that never healed, just waiting to pour forth and kill everyone who ever hurt me.

It wanted blood.

It wanted their blood.

It wanted apologies and pleas—it wanted to raze the world of every bastard and bitch who ever hurt my family.

It kept growing.

Swirling and hissing, blocking out the forest, the valley, the moon.

I forgot about Gemma and the way my entire being broke apart seeing her hurt by someone else. I forgot about any rules I’d fought to abide by. I gave up trying to be good.

This was me.

This thing.

This monster.

Free.

The black virus spilled out of me, shooting down my arms and into my fists.

It poured out of me like a disease.

A plague ready to wipe out everyone.

It granted sick, sick power after a lifetime of imprisonment and amnesia.

It was a fever and a cancer all in one.

And it cracked me wide open.

I howled as I splintered apart, becoming more than just a man.

I was invincible.

I was reckoning itself.

I didn’t turn my back on my memories this time.

I didn’t hide.

I didn’t fucking cower.

I welcomed them.

The doors in my mind flung wide, the chains snapped free, the locks broke open, and every thrust, slice, curse, kiss, and torture flooded me.

It all flooded me.

It suffocated and crippled. It butchered and slaughtered.

But it also granted a strength I’d been afraid of. Revenge that burned and left nothing but blackened ash. Retribution and vindication that brought so, so much fucking hate.

My fists struck something hard.

His jaw perhaps. His ribs.

I couldn’t see through my fury.

I just kept hitting.

Punching.

Clawing.

Killing.

Pain lashed up my arm, reminding me it wasn’t fully healed.

I didn’t care.

I used it to throw another punch.

And another.

We rolled together.

I was stronger.

When I shoved him onto his back, his arms swung as the undergrowth swallowed us whole. He grunted and fought for breath as I knocked the wind out of him, pinning his throat to the ground.

I struck his head.

I kneed his stomach.

I stopped thinking and just attacked.

Time blurred as we fought.

Sweat rivered down my back as my enemy returned what I gave. A sucker-punch caught me in the rib cage. A well-placed knee got me in the gut.

But I paid him back again and again.

Blood smeared.

Agony flared.

Cries and howls shredded the night sky as we rolled in bracken and leaves.

I wanted him to die.

He represented every man who’d done wrong to me. He was every asshole I’d ever had to endure. He was my enemy, and I would slice him open, pull out his entrails, and let the valley beasts pick his bones clean.

His knee came up, jabbing into my side.

I buckled sideways.

He scrambled away.

I went after him.

Grabbing his ankles, I yanked him back, throwing strike after strike against his back, shoving him from his knees to his face.

He didn’t have time to talk, doing his best not to die.

I relished in that.

I made him afraid.

I hit wherever I could.

He wasn’t human.

I wasn’t human.

He was every evil I had to eradicate.

There was no room for him here.

No room for him, period.

He has to die.

I struck harder.

My knuckles split. My healing arm bellowed. I couldn’t catch a proper breath as my opponent stopped trying to get away and threw himself into meeting me in war.

I grunted as his own fists found new places to injure me.

We rolled and fought.

Two bears fighting over scraps.

I found hair and yanked so hard, a handful came away in my fist.

I punched his stomach and listened to the sweet sounds of him gasping for air.

I didn’t stop.

I kept hitting.

It was rhythmical.

Poetic almost.

Entirely justified after a lifetime of running from what I truly was.

This was what I was.

This...thing.

This hatred that’d been building and billowing for decades. These memories I’d never had the guts to face. These ghosts of a family who ringed us in the dark and watched me massacre one of the men who’d abused us.

I would protect them all.

I would do whatever it took to kill.

Another burst of fury flowed through me.

Speed made my fists blur and his grunts sound weaker.

Soon.

Soon it would be over, and he would be dead.

Something soft tugged on my shoulder. A voice I couldn’t place tried to wriggle its way through the carnage of memories and mayhem.

“Kas, stop. You have to stop.”

Quell?

No, this voice wasn’t as timid.

Sarez?

No, this one begged me to stop not to keep going.

“Kas, please!”

I threw another strike.

The man jerked as if his body couldn’t take much more.

Triumph blazed through me.

He was close.

Just a little more and he’d be dealt with.

“Kas, you’re killing him!”

I grinned. Good. That was the point.

I struck again and again.

I lost sensation and welcomed numbness instead.

“KAS!” Hands scratched at my neck, trying to pull me away. The scent of papaya and woodsmoke filled my head.

Gemma!

My soul recognized her.

My entire purpose was to protect and cherish her.

I loved her.

I would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

Fury struck a match on my hatred and anger, renewing my need to kill this trespasser. He’d had his hands on her. He’d. Hurt. Her. He’d made her cry out. He’d put bruises on her skin and fear in her heart.

No.

Never fucking again.

I drove my fist into his motherfucking jaw.

He yelled something.

Gemma screamed something.

I ignored it all.

I was done with this.

He would die.

Immediately.

Rocking onto my knees, I wrenched my arm back, ready to deliver the final blow. I blinked back ghosts and memories. I focused on the forest where we fought and not the dorm where we’d hidden as slaves.

I bared my teeth and swung.

Gemma threw herself on top of the crumpled, bloody man beneath me. “Don’t!” She curled up over his head, putting herself in harm’s way, forcing me to roll to the side so I didn’t hit her.

Shoving upright, I roared, “Get the fuck away, Gemma! Let me finish this.”

“You can’t.” She cradled his head, sending violent jealousy through me. “It’s Jareth!”

Jareth?

The kid who’d endured two weeks of punishment and returned to us soulless.

The brother who scared me even while I’d done my best to protect him.

The family I’d killed to set free.

Gemma sat up, revealing the man she’d protected.

One blue eye, one brown eye.

Awfully familiar and horribly real.

Drenched in blood from my fists.

Jareth.

I choked.

The world ceased existing.

My headache returned in full crippling force. My vision stuttered. Vertigo slammed into me. I wobbled on my knees as I gasped for breath.

How?

Where?

I don’t understand.

And then, whiteness.

Nothing but fucking whiteness as my mind folded in on itself.

All the memories I’d let loose.

All the hatred I’d set free.

The bittersweet freedom and sanity I’d felt all sucked back inside me.

A vortex of pain, history, and disease.

It ricocheted back on me.

It cracked my mind apart.

I blacked out.

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CHAPTER THREE

I WENT FROM PROTECTING one man to caring for another.

Scrambling away from Jareth’s blood-covered body, I crawled as fast as I could to Kas as he toppled sideways onto the ground. He landed with a heavy thud, loose and unconscious.

“Shit.” I cradled his head on my lap, pushing away his long dark hair while pulling a few leaves from his strands. “It’s okay, Kas. Just breathe.”

I didn’t know if he could hear me.

I didn’t know what to do.

What made him black out?

Would he have any memory of this when he woke?

He lay prone and lifeless in my arms while Jareth slowly pushed himself onto his ass and breathed hard. He slumped forward over his knees, doing his best to shake off the beating he’d just received.

A few moments passed before he groaned, sucked in a tattered breath, and gingerly raised both arms to run though his bloody hair. He winced and groaned again, rolling his shoulders, slowly assessing his damage.

He didn’t look so great.

I was torn in two.

A part of me had loyalty only to Kas. I would fight with everything I had if Jareth decided to pay Kas back for his attack. But the other part of me filled with hope.

When Kas had launched himself at Jareth, he’d been different.

He’d been...alive.

Something had sparked awake inside him, shoving past his pain, his stubbornness, and all the other mess he swam in.

He’d been real—more real and vibrant than I’d seen since arriving in this godforsaken valley. Something had clicked into place inside him as he’d let loose and given in to his rage.

Yes, he’d been hell-bent on killing Jareth. And yes, he’d been absolutely terrifying, but he’d seemed sane. Honest with who he was and what he was capable of.

As he’d swung punch after punch, using his entire body as a weapon against his enemy, it’d seemed as if he’d found a piece of himself that he’d lost. A piece he’d stopped running from and embraced wholeheartedly.

He’d been so fast. So strong. So vicious.

But it’d been more than that.

For the first time since I’d met Kas, he’d looked...whole.

And it was the best thing I’d ever seen. His eyes had been clear of ghosts. His determination had been true, even if it’d been murderous.

He’d seemed free.

“Is he breathing?” Jareth croaked, spitting a wad of blood onto a bush beside him.

I ran my hand over Kas’s cheek, checking his vitals. “Yes. He’s just passed out.”

“Well, wake him up. We need to talk.”

I looked up, my hackles still raised thanks to this stranger with soulless eyes, even if he and Kas thought of each other as brothers. How much should I tell him about Kas’s ongoing issues? What would be beneficial, and what would be a betrayal of Kas’s trust?

Jareth saved me from making a choice by muttering, “He’s different.”

I stiffened. “What do you expect after a decade? Everyone becomes different with time.”

He narrowed his eyes, the left side of his face rivered with blood from a cut on his temple. “We both know that’s not what I meant.” Digging his hands into the dirt, he sucked in a pained breath as he slowly, gingerly pushed to his feet. He wobbled a little, hopping on his right leg, unwilling to put too much weight on his left.

Had Kas broken anything?

Seemed I had two patients in this valley now, instead of just one.

“Does he do that often?” Jareth cocked his head at Kas unconscious on my lap.

I bit the inside of my cheek, still unsure of how much to share. “He...hasn’t been well. He fell a few weeks ago and...has had a bad concussion ever since.”

Jareth spat another mouthful of blood on the grass. Unzipping his jacket, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt underneath and wiped his face, trying to avoid getting more blood in his eyes as multiple cuts kept oozing. Black shadowing already framed his blue eye, and bruising had begun to gather along his jaw. Kas had been ruthless.

Only once Jareth had tended to his facial injuries—finding yet another cut on his chin and swelling on his cheekbone—did he make eye contact again. “It’s not just the concussion causing him to pass out.”

I sat taller. “Are you a doctor?”

He snorted, his laugh derisive and almost uncaring. “Do I look like a doctor?”

“You could have studied anything since you left here. A decade is a long time.”

He shuddered as moonlight speared through a cloud, painting him in a pewter glow. He couldn’t quite hide his scorn or his pain. “That wasn’t the sort of education I received when I left here.”

I cocked my head, hearing a wealth of history and truth in that sentence. “What sort of education did you receive?”

He turned his head left and right, cracking something in his neck. Stretching out the bruises in his body, he gave me a thin smile. “Not the kind you want to hear about.” His strange stare fell on Kas again as he jerked on my lap. “Coming to?”

I ran my hand over Kas’s forehead. His eyes tightened and mouth bracketed as he flinched away from my touch. A usual reaction. One that was understandable but still hurt my heart. I hated that he would rather be alone than find comfort in my touch after being so conditioned to expect only agony.

“Why are you here?” I asked suddenly, pinning Jareth to the spot as Kas sucked in a breath. Only a few seconds were left before he’d wake. And I needed to know. Needed to understand, why now? Why had Jareth appeared now? Where had he come from? What did he hope to achieve?

Jareth stilled, his cloak of aggression and threats settling back on his shoulders. “I was going to ask you the same question. Just because I’m allowing you to hold my brother doesn’t mean I trust you. Doesn’t mean I accept whatever the hell is going on between you two.”

“Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

He went to cross his arms but winced, letting them hang by his sides. For a second, he looked as if he’d rather hit me than reply, but then he sighed and rubbed between his eyes. “I made a promise.”

“Which was?”

“I’d come back for him.”

“Why did it take you so long?”

Emptiness filled his eyes, haunted like Kas’s but also full of evil. An evil that he’d embraced, unlike Kas who couldn’t reconcile himself with doing bad things even if his past groomed him to be. “I was busy.” He pointed a finger in my face. “And I suggest you don’t ask me again.”

I opened my mouth to ask other things. What things I didn’t know, but Kas suddenly sat bolt upright, his hair flying around his shoulders, his eyes dancing around the forest.

Alert and aware, he swooped to his feet, his stare locking instantly onto Jareth. He swayed a little but he balled his hands and fought to stay standing, never looking away from our new intruder.

I leaped upright too, not wanting to be sitting when both men towered over me.

The two men just stared.

The air turned chilly.

The forest went quiet.

Jareth didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Kas didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Both men gave no indication that they’d once been close enough to love each other. Once endured hell, side by side.

Jareth continued studying Kas as if he already accepted whatever he’d do. A hug. Another beating. Either would be fine with him. Blood continued to run down the side of his face but he didn’t rub it away.

Kas slowly took a step toward him.

Jareth didn’t tense or prepare. His hands stayed by his sides, permitting Kas to hit him if he desired. Was that out of guilt or respect? What exactly did these two men share? How deep did their bond go after surviving being slaves for most of their childhood?

“You’re alive,” Kas breathed, stopping in front of Jareth.

“No thanks to you,” Jareth muttered, his lips twisting into a sick smirk.

Kas winced, his own bruises from Jareth’s fists starting to be noticeable around his jaw.

The moon skated behind a cloud, drenching us in gloomy darkness as I inched closer, desperate to witness the awakening in Kas. I wanted to see the same wholeness that’d been there when he’d attacked Jareth. Maybe the pieces that he’d been hiding from had finally slipped into place. Maybe his mind would stop blacking out and he’d find the courage to face the things he kept forgetting.

Maybe Jareth’s arrival was the medicine Kas needed to get better.

But as the two men studied each other, both wild and bristling with darkness, I didn’t see freedom in Kas’s face, only guilt. The cleansing that’d been there before was now drowned out by regret and dishonor. “I hurt you.”

Jareth’s nostrils flared before he shrugged as if he hadn’t even noticed. “I’ve had worse.”

Kas inhaled sharply. The bloodlust from before had well and truly vanished, leaving behind the man I’d fallen in love with. A caring man who took on way too much blame for not being able to protect those he loved. A martyr who would continue denying his own happiness if it meant he could give it to others. “That scar is new.”

Jareth’s fingertips came up and ran along the nasty cut down his cheek. “New to you. Not to me.”

“Who gave it to you?”

For the first time, Jareth’s stoic savagery slipped a little. “No one you know.”

“Someone other than Storymaker?” Kas choked.

“Someone who’s dead. We’ll leave it at that,” Jareth snapped.

A long moment stretched in silence.

Goosebumps once again layered me inside and out.

Kas finally shook himself and yanked Jareth into an embrace. A hard crash as their bodies slammed together. The whip fast lasso of their arms as they held tight. The undeniable connection of two messed up boys who’d become violent men.

I wanted to give them privacy, but I couldn’t look away.

I couldn’t stop watching the relationship that switched from historic to present day. Kas buried his face into Jareth’s neck, his back shuddering with shame. “I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you.”

Jareth pressed his forehead against Kas’s cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

The passion, the bond, the absolute truth between them made tears spill down my face. I’d known so many versions of Kas through his nightmares, concussion, and slowly falling in love with him. I’d known what he was capable of—both good and bad. But to see him almost kill this man with his bare hands and then hug him with unconditional love broke my already splintered heart.

“I didn’t mean to...” Kas clutched the back of Jareth’s head, pulling him away so he could stare into his eyes. “I didn’t know it was you.”

Jareth nodded. No animosity or anger in his stare. “I’m sorry for touching her.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop others from touching you.”

Jareth inhaled as the two men pressed their foreheads together, acknowledging everything between them.

The hug started off as equals, two brothers finding each other. But it ended with Kas as the patriarchal one. The father figure who’d assumed responsibility for Jareth’s well-being years ago. Who still took that responsibility seriously and hated himself for hurting him. “I need to make sure I didn’t break you.” Stepping back, Kas looked Jareth up and down. “No fractures? No nausea?”

Jareth smirked. “I’ll live. I always do.”

Kas flinched. “And the others? Do they live?”

Jareth went deathly still. “I don’t know.”

Kas tripped backward, breaking their hold. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Jareth zipped up his jacket, doing his best to ignore the obvious bruises beneath his clothes. “It means you weren’t the only one trapped for the past eleven years.” Brushing past him, Jareth tripped a little as whatever injury Kas had done to his leg either sorted itself out or he flat out ignored it. Moving toward his backpack, he hissed between his teeth as he slung it onto his shoulder. “I need to rest and inhale some painkillers. We’ll talk later.” His tone gave no option but to agree.

Striding into the darkness, heading in the direction of Fables, he didn’t wait for us to follow.

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CHAPTER FOUR

I REMEMBERED.

I’d blacked out. Everything had gone white—like all the other moments when things had become too much with Gemma—but this time...I didn’t wake up with a chunk of my life missing.

I wasn’t left wondering what’d happened and what I’d done wrong; I’d known instantly.

I remembered running out of Fables after recalling how I’d raped Gemma in the library. I remembered my thoughts going dark and full of self-pity. I remembered running through the forest, barefoot like an animal, tearing through foliage as if leaves were rope trying to bind me.

I’d ripped off the splint around my healing arm. I’d done my best to outrun demons and memories, becoming fucking desperate with the need to be sane. To no longer have an endless headache. To be able to love the girl I’d fallen for. To be normal and no longer this broken beast.

And then, I’d heard her scream.

I’d run faster, searching for her in the dark.

I’d seen a man holding her, hurting her.

I’d lost myself to the violence that I’d buried every day of my existence.

And now...now I sat in the games room at Fables, sitting opposite a man I never thought I’d see again. A man who’d left me because I’d told him to. A man who was more stranger than brother.

What the fuck had happened to him?

Why did horrors flow in his eyes—different horrors to the ones we’d shared? Where had the scar on his cheek come from? Why had it taken him eleven years to return?

Gemma sat perched on the armrest of the couch next to me, uncertain and unsure. She’d been jumpy ever since we’d arrived back at Fables, watching as Jareth had stalked inside without an invitation.

Not that he’d needed one.

This was his home as much as mine. Our prison. Our coffin.

I’d shadowed him as he stalked through the foyer and into the library. He’d slammed to a stop as his eyes fell on the carpet where I’d shot Storymaker and commanded everyone to leave. His back had stiffened, his breath had turned sharp, and he’d turned to me with a sickening grin on his face.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

We both remembered what’d happened here and that all those monsters were dead. Because of me.

I remembered everything.

All the memories of my Fable sister’s screams and tears were no longer hidden behind locked doors. They’d been let loose the moment I’d attacked Jareth. Recollections of my own torture mingled with those that’d happen to Jareth, Wes, and Maliki.

They’d folded in on me as I’d blacked out. I’d hoped they’d return to the shadows.

But no such luck.

They’d been let loose and they refused to leave.

My head was fucking crowded.

I couldn’t shut them up or shove them away. They made Fables come alive again. I saw their ghosts around every corner. I heard their voices up the stairs. I witnessed the fear, the pain, and the never-ending monstrosities that were done to us.

I wanted to lock them away again.

I didn’t think I could cope with my past running amok in my head and Jareth infiltrating my present.

Even now, sitting silent and stiff in the games room, I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t let down my guard because I no longer trusted him.

He once owned a piece of my heart—just like all my family—but now...now, Gemma owned that heart. Her well-being came above his and I was torn in two.

Gemma flicked a glance at me as if sensing I thought about her.

The sky was lightning outside, signaling dawn wasn’t far away.

I was exhausted. Gem had shadows beneath her eyes and Jareth looked worse as the minutes ticked over. His bruising had darkened, his cuts still oozing blood.

I should tend to him.

I should’ve done it the moment we walked inside.

Clearing my throat, I went to stand, but my constant headache made the room swim. “Stay. What do you need?” Gem instantly came to sit by my side, her hand landing on my shoulder, her touch electrifying me, covering me in shame for how I’d treated her, run from her, made her doubt just how much she fucking meant to me.

What would she think of me if I admitted I’d been so close to ending it tonight? That I’d wanted her so fucking badly that I was willing to put myself out of my misery because I didn’t know how to be the man she deserved.

I didn’t know how to apologize.

I didn’t know how to love her without hurting her.

I would never get over how strong she was, how forgiving. I still didn’t understand how she could touch me, smile at me, care for me after I’d raped her. Those memories were far too sharp and savage. She’d fought me. She’d screamed at me. She’d stopped fighting me when I ignored her and took what I wanted anyway.

Fuck.

I flinched away from her touch.

Her eyes flared with hurt but she stood bravely and smiled. “I’ll go and get you guys some painkillers. I have no doubt your arm will be killing you—especially seeing as you’ve removed your splint.” Her eyes grazed over my arm before darting to Jareth sprawled in a button leather armchair by the fireplace. Animal hides darted the floor like islands between us. Antlers hung above the mantel, glinting sharply amongst the tarnished shields and swords decorating the walls.

A room of death.

Why the fuck were we in this one? Then again, were there any rooms in this place that weren’t touched with death?

“You’re not allergic to any pain meds, are you?” Gem asked Jareth, her voice stiff and strict. She might’ve protected him from my wrath and helped snap me out of whatever hate-fuelled bloodlust I’d been in, but she wasn’t his friend.

Jareth ran a hand over his jaw, pushing against a new bruise and swelling. “No. I have a tolerance for all drugs. Whatever you have, I’ll take.”

My eyes narrowed. What did he mean by that? We’d never been given drugs at Fables, apart from the odd painkiller when a guest got particularly nasty. We’d never been force fed chemicals to keep us inline.

Leaning forward, I shook away what I could of my headache and focused on him. “You use drugs?”

Gemma subtly left the room, taking my oxygen with her and leaving me with a thousand questions for Jareth.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t comfortable asking them in front of her, it was my constant need to keep my past away from my present. Gemma represented hope and happiness that I still had no idea how to claim. Jareth reminded me of all the shit we’d endured and done, ensuring we weren’t suitable for silly things like relationships or love because we had no concept of the word.

We only knew how to love each other because we were all each other had.

But you have Gem now.

You need to talk to her.

Clear the air about why you ran tonight.

Balling my hands, I ignored the faint twinge in my arm and waited for Jareth to answer me.

He mimicked me, clasping his hands between his legs and sitting forward. “I’ve dabbled with a few.”

“What few?”

His teeth flashed. “Everything.”

“By choice or force?”

His body tightened just a little, but I noticed. I noticed because even though he was more stranger than brother, I still knew him. I’d once protected his body and soothed his mind. I’d done everything I could to take away his nightmares even while I’d drowned beneath mine.

“I didn’t come here to talk about me, Kassen.”

I jolted at my name on his lips. It dragged up a million memories all over again. My ears rang with Quell’s voice murmuring my name as we’d cut ourselves in the dorm. My heart burned with echoes as Nyx made me promise to keep Wes alive.

My name had been used by guests who’d turned me into nothing more than their fuck toy but it’d also been breathed with love by my family. I’d forgotten that part. I’d allowed hate to ruin everything.

“Why did you come?” I glanced at the door where Gem had disappeared. How long did we have to talk openly? Would Jareth speak truthfully with her around or not?

Licking his lips, he ignored my question and asked one of his own. “Why the fuck are you still living here, Kas?”

I sucked in a breath, dropping my stare to my lacerated knuckles from punching him. How the hell was I supposed to answer that question? I’d only just got my full memory back without choosing amnesia over reality. I’d literally just admitted I was in love with Gemma, even after running from love for the past decade.

I felt as if I was on a seesaw. Flipping from one side to the other. The side of me that’d once loved blindingly and completely, only to end up molested and trapped because of it. And the side that’d done whatever it could to forget. To put himself first and no one else.

I didn’t know how to live with myself anymore. How to choose which side of me to become and which side to eradicate once and for all.

Jareth saw straight through my hesitation, impatience filling his harsh voice. “The truth, Kas. Tell me.”

I looked up, narrowing my eyes. “And what of your truth? Will you tell me that?”

He shrugged, sprawling backward nonchalantly into the chair. His air of uncaring didn’t fly with me. His muscles were still coiled, his energy still poised, his body still hurting from my fists. There was no relaxing in this place—especially as a returned slave. “I don’t want to talk about me. I want to talk about you.”

“And I want to know what happened to everyone when you left that night.”

He tilted his head, dawn mixing with a lamp Gemma had switched on by the bar cart, splinters of amber dancing over his hair from the last remaining bottles of liquor. “I told you. I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know? You left together. You should’ve stuck together—”

“We were stupid to think we could escape so easily.”

“Easily?” I snapped, sitting on the edge of the couch. “You think it was fucking easy slaughtering everyone and then burying their bodies? You think it was easy waiting for others to come? Easy when someone did arrive and almost fucking killed me?”

Jareth stopped pretending he wasn’t on edge and sat upright again, wincing a little at moving so quick. “We told you to come with us.”

I studied him, doing my best to see past all the shit he wouldn’t confess. “And if I had, where would I have ended up, huh? Where did you end up? Where the hell is our family, Jareth?”

He pursed his lips, swallowing down answers he wasn’t ready to spill.

Taut silence stretched between us again. If I hadn’t known this man for years—if I hadn’t hugged him in the dark and shared promises on a daily basis, I would’ve launched myself at him again.

The smug coldness in his bi-colored stare. The arctic chill that never seemed to leave. There was nothing left inside him. Nothing soft. Nothing human. We’d survived similar ordeals, yet while I struggled with sanity because I still had a heart inside me, Jareth had nothing.

He was a void. A shell of who he’d once been.

Leaning back, ice slipped down my spine. “If you don’t care, why the hell did you come back here?”

“Because I made a promise.”

“Most of our promises are broken.”

“Yeah well, not this one.”

I ran a hand through my hair, swallowing hard as pressure built in my skull. I hoped Gemma had enough painkillers to go around because I’d long ago used up Fable’s supplies.