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“You can’t hide who you are from me, not anymore,” I say before leaning over and cupping Frederico’s cheek in my hand. He feels cold. Too cold. “Can you hear me, Frederico?” My voice is soft, cajoling, and I try to keep any signs of hate from it.
Frederico’s eyes focus on my face, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He coughs some more, and I remove my hand from Xeno’s arm and gently wrap my fingers around Zayn’s wrist. “Take the knife off of his throat, Zayn. He can’t talk with it there.”
“Pen…”
“No. This needs to happen.”
He hesitates but when Xeno nods, Zayn releases the pressure, pulling the knife away. Blood, so dark it’s almost black, slides from the slit in Frederico’s throat, joining the growing pool that’s now seeping into my jeans. I try not to look too hard at the parted, jagged cut across his flesh beneath the weeping blood.
“Frederico, I need you to tell me who sent you,” I say, gently stroking his face, like a mother would to comfort her child.
“He doesn’t deserve your kindness,” Beast mutters from behind us. I ignore him.
This man could’ve killed me. He could’ve slit my throat. He didn’t. Right at the last moment, he chose to let me live and in doing so forfeited his own life. I’m choosing to hold onto that split second decision, that precise moment, in order to get me through. I’ve hated Frederico ever since that night when he beat Dax before my eyes in Abney Park Cemetery, then tried to rape me. That hasn’t changed, and there’s a large part of me that’s glad he’s dying, relieved that there’s going to be one less arsehole in this world, but there’s also a part of me that recognises that this could easily be one of my men. The line between good and evil is a thin one. I’ve placed my Breakers on one side of the line because of my love for them, but Iknowthey’ve walked the other side of the line for a long time now. I’ve just witnessed how far over they’ve stepped. There was a time Frederico stood on the other side of the line. Knowing that he wasn’t always an evil bastard helps me to do this, to show a scrap of kindness even if it’s to get what we want.
“Who sent you, Frederico?” I persist, softly, my thumb rubbing over his cheekbone.
“He’s fading fast,” Dax mutters, but I focus only on the dying man before me.
“Mum,” he murmurs, his eyes looking beyond me to someone else. More blood keeps leaking from his lips and I hold in the cry of frustration that I feel rising up my throat. I have to hold it together. I have to.
“I’m here,” I say, hating myself for pretending to be his mother and knowing it’s the only way to get him to speak.
“Mum?”
“Shh. It’s okay.” Leaning closer, I swipe at the tears trickling from his eyes, and stare right into the dying embers of his life. “Who sent you, Frederico? Who was responsible for sending your friends to their deaths tonight?” He mouths the word, his voice struggling to break free from the choking hands of death. “It’s okay, I’m here.” My voice cracks as I twist my head to the side and rest my ear just above his mouth. I feel sick about what I’m doing, but still I continue because now I’m a monster too. I’m the harbinger of death dressed up as an angel. I should be calling an ambulance, instead I’m pretending to be his mother and allowing him to bleed out.
“Jesus fuck,” Beast mutters, and I can hear the discomfort in his voice. I don’t suppose someone he’s killed has ever experienced the same kindness in their final moments, even if it is pretend. It’s easier to disconnect from an act of violence if you feel justified in your actions. Providing sympathy, empathy, makes the victim more human. It shines a light on what you’ve done. I feel the tension from my Breakers, but I persist. It’s the only way.
“Frederico, please,” I whisper. His mouth presses against my ear, and the response that falls from his lips strikes like a poisoned arrow to my heart.
“He saw your dance...” I pull back in shock and watch as blood gurgles up his throat, pouring out of his mouth. He fixes his gaze on me, cruelty flashing in his eyes as a slow smile spreads across his face. “You... provoked… the monster.” More blood pours as his light dims.
“Who?Whosaw me?” I insist, my stomach bottoming out because I see the answer in his eyes. I know. I know who’s coming for us.
“David…”
My brother.
This washim. Of course it was.
Black spots blur my vision, but I blink them back, forcing the nausea away. Sitting back on my haunches, I stare at Frederico and the vacant emptiness in his eyes, feeling oddly calm. It’s as though I’m having an out of body experience, and much like when I was a kid, my conscious mind seems to separate from the horror and the fear allowing me to function in the moment. I know the shock will hit me later, but right now all I can think of doing is pressing the pad of my thumb and finger against Frederico’s eyelids, closing them. Not one of my Breakers speak, though I feel their concern for me. It doesn’t make me feel any better, not when the weight of this violent night and all the ones yet to come weigh heavily on my shoulders. It presses down on me and with every passing second, I feel myself sinking into a place I haven’t been in since that night David forced me to choose between the Breakers and my sister. I brought this upon us by facing my biggest fear. This is on me.
“What did he say, sweetheart?” Beast asks, breaking the silence. “Who’s the fucker we gotta kill next?” He cocks his head to the side as I meet his gaze, blinking back the shock.
“My brother.”
