Page 54 of The Villains of Winter

Everything would fall apart if Elliott didn’t believe him. If Elliott unraveled and confessed to it all, it would only lead to a catastrophic outcome for everyone.

James didn’t even ask Elliott to believe in him; only to believe him, which Elliott did both without needing to be asked. He believed him. He believed in him.

James felt Elliott’s voice hitch at the motion beneath the quilt. The sting of antiseptic, the barb of sterilization, the sharpness of the sutures. Everything James had learned from the cabal was used to stitch Elliott back together. “You will protect my soul. I know that.”

“I will,” James helped him out of the rest of his shirt, his trousers. He freed the underclassmen from his sweat and perspiration with a dry cloth. Elliott was exhausted and overheated, fumbling with the last buttons. As he drifted to sleep, James murmured to him. “Even at the cost of my own, I will protect your soul.”

“I will protect your soul in return, James. No matter how far apart we are.”

James gave him a faint smile. “Se anche tu vedi la stessa luna, non siamo poi così lontani.” If you, too, see the same moon, then we are not that far away.

That was the promise James Wilde made to himself after he ruined Elliott’s life five years ago. Half a decade ago, James had chosen him. Finch hadn’t wanted Coach Marshman to know that they were headed to the Coelnoð County Country Club to meet with recruiters to accept any bribes the scouts had to offer them. Knox refused to meet the recruiters with mud all over himself from walking, and he asked James for his father’s vehicle. However, the coach would’ve easily recognized James’s father’s McLaren. The entire town would’ve recognized the high-powered model.

His newest supercar wasn’t even available on the market yet.

Therefore, James had a better idea. He knew there was a boy that he’d been watching for weeks and the kid explored nature with his teacher who left him with the truck for hours. A boy with mismatched, fox-brown eyes. A boy with a kind countenance. With the right convincing, his friends would have the boy’s truck. Like with anyone else, all James needed to do was give the boy his direct attention for a handful of minutes.

He never anticipated the car crash.

James was the reason Elliott’s life fell apart. He was the reason Elliott was traumatized beyond repair. James never knew anything of Elliott’s home life. That Orthodox Easter, James saw him asleep outside on the street where a woman shut him out and changed the locks in forty-degree weather.

From then on, James vowed to stay at his side.

He swore an oath to right the tragedy he caused.

If the moon was above them, then they were not far from each other. James would reach him.

Then the murder of Lucien Montclair occurred, and instead of a twinge of conscience, James only knew that he would commit even darker atrocities if he had to. If it meant Elliott would be spared.

Therefore, James ran his mind through the moments of the December 22nd hibernal ceremony, from start to finish, to ensure he didn’t forget anything.

He recalled everything from 2:00 AM when the hibernal ceremony concluded to 5:00 PM when they boarded the train out of Connecticut.

​​ PART SEVEN: THE PAEAN OF THE VILLAINS OF WINTER

BANEBURY, CONNECTICUT

WINTER

​​ CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“THE WINTER’S PICK OF THE honorarium will be Elliott Archway.”

James felt blood trickle down his jawline. He’d bitten his tongue.

Time went still.

His limbs were frozen.

The crowds of thousands peered up at the frightened students on stage and James felt his nape prickle as the little swan-white hairs on the back of his neck stood on end from the chorus of sighs of relief and murmurs of gratitude.

“Thank God.”

“Praise the Lord.”

“It’s finally over.”

Elliott had collapsed into the pyre wood.