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Flies crawling across her dead body—the corpse Donovan hadn’t bothered to clean up for days. Roman remembered the reek of his rotting mother as if he’d smelled her just yesterday, recalled vomiting all over the floor when he’d stumbled in to find her there, lying beside the four-poster bed where she’d conceived her two sons.
“Stop.” The single word was a hoarse whisper. Roman’s aching body shook so hard, the chains rattled. Sayagul wept in his shadow. The dragon had been just a baby when Helen had died, but she remembered it as clearly as Roman, had cried just as hard. “Please.”
“Open your eyes,” Donovan hissed, bringing his vicious face in close to Roman’s. “Quit being a coward and open your goddamn eyes.”
Roman forced them open. Donovan’s face was close—too close.
Donovan pointed at the mass of shadows spinning through the room like a hurricane. Evil incarnate. “Look at her.”
Roman didn’t.
Donovan grabbed his chin, his grip bruising. “Look at her.”
Roman looked—at his mother’s crying face.
And then at a different memory—Helen bleeding from the eyes after Donovan had used this same magic on her. This same torture.
“Your fault,” Donovan hissed, shoving his face away. “She died because of you.”
He’s lying, Sayagul said gently, consoling, still weeping. Do not listen to him.
Roman knew it wasn’t true, but Donovan had poisoned his thoughts for years—twisting reality around until Roman believed the lie without question or argument.
It had worked, for a time. Years of therapy had shed light on the corners of his life that Donovan had shrouded in shadow with meticulous, resentful hands.
So Roman kept looking, knowing he had to if he wanted this to end, if he wanted to get to Paxton, who he could still hear screaming and sobbing upstairs, his tiring fists banging on the locked door.
Stay, Roman, Sayagul pleaded with a sniffle. We must stay awake.
But as Roman stared at the many images of his dead mother in the swirling storm of shadows, Don’s magic sliced deeper.
He began to bleed from the nose. The ears. And finally, from the eyes, but by the time that happened, he had passed out.
When he woke back up, Donovan was gone, those otherworldly shadows gone too. The nightmare was over—for now.
He wished he could say forever.
Roman’s breathing wouldn’t slow. He hung from the chains, not knowing how much time had passed since he’d last opened his eyes. He’d fallen unconscious for a second time after his dad left the room, and without any windows down here, it was impossible to tell the time.
His whole body was screaming in pain. The shirt he wore was stuck to his back, his blood acting like glue. The skin of his wrists was chafed, and his mouth tasted of the blood that had dripped from his nose, drying in thick lines on his lips and chin.
Roman opted to keep his eyes shut. There was no point in staring into those shadows. He was stuck here until Donovan decided he was done with him. Sometimes, he came down for another round. Roman prayed it wouldn’t happen this time. If it did, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it.
Quiet footsteps shuffled on the steps. Too small to belong to an adult.
Roman forced his eyes open.
Paxton was coming down the stairs, blindly groping the curved stone wall, his Familiar following on quiet paws that swirled with black mist. Roman had no idea how the kid had gotten in. He hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t seen any light streaming in, hadn’t picked up on the jingle of keys. Don always locked him down here like he would a true prisoner, keys and all.
“Pax,” Roman gritted out, his tongue fat and clumsy, teeth caked with blood. “Pax, please, buddy. You gotta go. I don’t want you to see me like this, okay? I’m fine.”
“Look what he did to you,” Paxton whispered, stepping closer on shaking legs that reminded Roman of bean poles. He was too young for this. Too innocent.
How was any of this fair? Kids didn’t get to choose their parents, their siblings. Every child came into the world the same way, but were dealt different cards. Pax should have been born into a different family, should’ve had a father who loved him, and a mother who fought to protect him, the way Roman fought.
It is not fair, Sayagul agreed, the dragon as beaten down as Roman. Many suffer, and it is not fair.
“Pax,” Roman gasped around the pain, “go. Please.”
