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The initial blast had torn them apart.
I was responsible for this.
I would pay every debt required.
I would never ever fucking forget this.
Drake is a dead man walking.
Burying my hands in another pile of gore, I grabbed the slippery remains and tossed it into the bag that would be carted out to sea. As far as clean-up went, Serigala had been swarmed by helpful people, all carrying out some versions of disinfection and rebuild.
This pile was the last of the mess.
My body was fucking exhausted. My eyes wept from ash and air-particles. My throat scratched from the stubborn fire still smouldering in places. My lungs and belly cramped from pollution and my heart throbbed with agony for what’d happened.
But I couldn’t go home.
Not yet.
I didn’t deserve to wash away this putridity. The biohazard I worked in made my entire body a contamination warning…just like my soul should be.
I should be kept far, far away from everyone and everything.
I bent to grab more handfuls of slaughter. A local passed me a spade with a grim half-smile. I took it, digging the rusty blade into the oozing remains and tossing them into the bag. The tool made my work faster, and I threw myself into the task.
Cal arrived at some point, his hand landing on my shoulder.
I jolted in panic.
Pika.
For a god-awful second, I thought Pika had flown here and witnessed what I’d caused. I didn’t know why but that almost broke me. The thought of Pika, my confidant and friend for fourteen years, seeing just what I was was the final straw.
“Don’t touch me.” I shrugged Cal’s touch away, returning to my offal digging.
“Your phone’s been ringing.”
I gritted my teeth. “Who cares.”
“You might…it seems important. Whoever it is hasn’t stopped. It ends, waits a few minutes, and starts again.” He eyed my grotesque-streaked slacks where the bulge of my phone rested. “Surprised you haven’t heard it.”
Eleanor.
Fuck…here I was doing clean-up, while leaving Eleanor exposed to the same attack.
Dropping the spade, I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone.
Cal wasn’t lying.
Seven missed calls.
All from a blocked number.
I knew who it was before it rang again, buzzing in my palm, the screen getting covered in ash-blended blood as I swiped accept.
“Drake.” I moved away from Cal, climbing the small pile of broken beams and smoking wood. From this vantage point, I witnessed the remains of Serigala.
The heartbreak.
The shocked animals.
The colourful bandages soothing the pain of so many fire-touched sufferers.
Ducks and sheep, hedgehogs and lizards, human and beast…they all made peace with one another, sharing their destroyed home, doing their best to heal.
“Baby bro, I’m assuming the reason you’re not picking up is you’re elbows deep in intestines, doing a clean-up. You were never one to shirk your responsibilities.” He chuckled. “Like the remodelling I did?”
My heart never rose above the numbed pound. I was no longer a man, just hunched up gristle and hate. “This was the last time, Drake. I’m done.”
He sniffed. “Where’s the rage, Sullivan? Where’re the ultimatums?”
“I told you.” I shrugged as the first twinkle of a star appeared above me. “I’m done with you.”
“Well, that’s anticlimactic, I have to say.”
“You always were an attention seeker.”
“And you were the biggest little shit I’d ever laid eyes on.”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. My hands fucking stank. My nails were black with death. I honestly had no energy to spar with him. He was already dead to me. He’d never been a brother, just a tormentor. A fucking psychopath who should never have been birthed.
“You want the truth, Drake?” I looked up, dropping my hand. “Fine. I’ll give you the goddamn truth. I’m glad our parents are dead because they were worthless two-legged creatures who had the means and the money to do some good in this fucked-up world. Instead, they only thought of themselves. They taught you the same righteous belief that you’re owed something. That you’re special.” My voice lowered, no spike of hate or flare of rage, just loath-filled ice. “They’re dead…and soon, you will be too. This is our last conversation, Drake. Next time we see each other, I’ll be driving a blade through your motherfucking heart.”
A pause sounded between us. Heavy and potent, slipping into my bloodstream with sick foreboding.
Finally, he laughed, loud and cocky. “Ah, there’s the ultimatum.”
“Not an ultimatum. A fact.”
“Okay then, a fact.” A rustle sounded as if he brought the phone closer to his mouth. “You’ve said your fact. Now, allow me to do the same.”
My thumb hovered over the hang-up button. “Maybe another time. I have much more important things—”
“Listen to me, you little shithead. If you hang up, then I’m done tormenting you. I’ll just go straight to killing you.”
“You already tried that, numerous times I might add, and it didn’t work. I’m like the cockroaches you tried to squash but never could.”
