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"Not seeing her is only going to make it worse, Michael."
"You don’t understand," I growl.
"Oh?" He turns on me, "Make me. Tell me what you’re thinking, Mika. This once, confide in me so I know what’s going on in that screwed up mind of yours."
I shake my head, "You won’t get it."
"Try me."
"I love her," I snap. "Do you understand? I love her, and already, I have put her at risk. The only way to protect her is if I keep her away from me."
2
Michael
Twenty minutes later, we are parked outside the building that houses the mortuary. I stare at the door that leads inside. If I get out of here and walk in, if I see his face, then nothing will ever be the same again.Nothing is ever going to be the same again.
"Michael," Seb murmurs, "you don’t have to do this."
I stare straight ahead, unable to take my gaze off the goddam door. Another door that leads to another loved one who is lying there...stretched out...cold. Another of my flesh and blood I have failed. Another sorrow that I will carry around for the rest of my life. Oh, Xander, why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t I have protected you? How could I have allowed this to happen to you?
"Michael?" Seb touches my shoulder and I jerk. I shove the door open, climb out of the car. I step into the coolness of the building and a shiver runs down my spine. I walk down the corridor, turn right…knowing where I have to go.
This is not my first visit to the morgue; it’s the first time I am here to identify the body of someone I loved like he was my own child. Xander was born when I was nine years old, and I had felt more like his parent than his older brother. And Christian? Even though Christian was only a few minutes older, it was Xander who had been the cheekiest, who could get away with anything. Who is now dead… Because I hadn’t been able to protect him. It should have been me.
My footsteps echo in the empty corridor. The two men at the end of the corridor turn to watch me approach. Christian’s gaze tracks me as I walk toward him. I stop in front of him, reach out for him. He evades me, then swipes out and buries his fist in my face. I absorb the hit, and the next, as he sinks his fist, this time, into my shoulder, then on the other side. He raises his arm again and his big body sways. He crumples and I catch him. I wrap my arms around him, rock him as his shoulders shudder. His chest rises and falls, as he tightens his hold on me and weeps. I rock him, even as the band around my chest tightens. The burning sensation behind my eyes intensifies and my nose starts to run. Adrian and Seb flank us as I squeeze my arms around my brother. I stay that way until he calms down somewhat, then step back.
Christian rises his red rimmed eyes, and I hold his gaze. "We’ll find who did this," I vow, "and when we do, I will wipe out his entire bloodline."
Christian swallows, then steps back and wipes his face.
Footsteps approach us. I turn as a man pauses in front of us, "Who’s going to identify the body?"
"I will," I brush past him, heading for the doors that lead to the morgue, when a woman bursts into the corridor.
"Xander," she gasps, glancing between us. "Is it true, what I heard about him?"
She glances between us, then her gaze settles on me. She marches over to me. "Xander," she swallows, "I need to see him."
"I don’t think that’s advisable." The coroner scowls, "He’s not in good shape."
"Yes." She shudders, then shakes her head as tears squeeze out of the corners of her eyes, "I must see him with my own eyes. I don’t believe you."
"Theresa?" Sebastian murmurs. "It’s not a good idea."
Xander’s childhood friend sets her jaw. "I don’t care. I am going to see him, whether you like it or not. Xander… He…he can’t leave me like this." She turns to me, "Michael, please." Her voice cracks.
I peer into her features, take in the determination reflected in her eyes, then jerk my chin.
"Thank you," she whispers as she wipes the tears from her face.
I move forward and she follows me. The coroner marches forward and falls in step with me. He leads us down another corridor and pauses in front of double doors.
He opens it, and next to me, Theresa stumbles. I grab her arm and steady her. "Easy," I murmur.
She squares her shoulders, then nods, "I am ready."
We step in together and the doors snicks shut behind us. The scent of antiseptic, combined with a sickly-sweet scent that I can’t identify, overpowers me. My hackles rise and my pulse begins to race. Theresa’s steps falter and she tightens her grip on my arm. There is a big glass window which separates us from a smaller room in which there is a covered body on a gurney.
