Ever since then, she’s gotten better at communicating her feelings, her reservations about certain things, and everything in between.
We’ve gotten to a point in our marriage where we don’t have to speak to understand one another.
Tonight is different.
My wife hasn’t been the same ever since she slipped out of bed earlier. And while I want to shake the answers out of her, I force myself to wait.
And wait.
And fucking wait.
It’s impossible to go to sleep if she doesn’t tell me.
The silence in our bedroom soon turns suffocating, and I slide my fingers into her shiny blonde hair.
It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been with this woman, I still can’t get enough of touching her. I still think about all the years we lost and can’t get back.
I’m still trapped at that moment when I thought I’d lose her forever.
A small sigh leaves her lips and her stroking pauses. “Ash?”
“Hmm?”
“I think we made a mistake.”
“About?”
She continues burying her face in my chest. “Remember when Kill brought us those desiccated mice and told us Look, I can see inside them?”
My jaw clenches. “It was when we first figured out he’s like her. Of course I remember.”
“He was only seven, Ash.”
“And he already showed the signs.”
“That’s not the point. Our son was so young, and we must’ve looked at him as if he were a monster.” She stares up at me with an unnatural shine in her deep blue eyes. “He told Glyndon that I’ve been scared of him since. Our baby boy thinks I’ve been afraid of him all this time, Ash. What are we going to do?”
“Hey.” I sit up and bring her with me and she sniffles, her tears soaking her cheeks and my thumb as I try to wipe them away. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.” Her voice breaks. “It’s not okay for a seven-year-old to think his parents are scared of him. And it’s absolutely not okay that he’s carried that thought for over twelve years. That’s how trauma is caused.”
“He’s not susceptible to trauma. You’re feeling these terrible emotions, but he’s not able to process them, Reina. You shouldn’t project what you feel on him. He’s not the same.”
“But he’s our son and we might have let him down.”
“You’re overthinking this. Besides, he doesn’t care.”
“Of course he does. I know you want him not to, and you’ve been trying to prove that he’s only a monster with no redeeming qualities, but that’s not true, Ash. If he doesn’t care, would he make sure to answer my texts, call me regularly, and talk to me about his campus life? If he doesn’t care, would he bring his girlfriend to meet us?”
“It’s all a façade and a learned behavior. He’s one hundred percent socialized and has long since perfected fooling the world around him. You can refuse to see it all you want, but that doesn’t deny what he is.”
“What the hell is what he is supposed to mean? He’s our son. Our flesh and blood. He’s not a guinea pig or a freak, stop analyzing him as if he is one.”
“Not when he’s prone to lose control any second.”
She pushes away from me, her delicate brows creasing with a frown, then starts to leave the bed.
I clutch her wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Anywhere but beside you until you stop talking about our son like he’s a psychological case study.”
“Like fuck you’re leaving.” I tug her down and she gasps as she falls back in my embrace. “You can be mad at me while you talk to me.”
My wife puffs out a breath. “Please try to see him as more than your prejudice about his type. I was hurt, too, extremely, to the point of madness by her, but that doesn’t mean Kill is like her or that I’d take out my pain on him.”
I’m about to placate her, just to get her out of this mood, when a loud bang echoes from the room beside our master suite.
Reina jumps up, throwing her robe on, and I follow after wearing a T-shirt.
We both rush out and stop in the hallway when the bang comes again.
My wife and I share a look. Gareth.
We hurry to his room and surprisingly, the door is open.
The scene that plays in front of us is straight out of a horror movie. Reina places two hands on her mouth as what I predicted would eventually happen takes form in front of our eyes.
Killian holds his brother by an elbow to his throat, pinning him against the wall. The bang sound is from when he pulls him just to slam him back again.
The savage look on Killian’s face resembles my most frightening nightmares and is nothing like I’ve seen before. Not even when he was seldom caught making trouble at school. All light from his eyes—that Reina wouldn’t shut up about—that he graced us with during this visit is gone.
In its place, complete gloom covers his features.
“I’m not going to ask again. Why did you send her that video?” Despite the darkness in his features, Killian sounds collected, in his element, absolutely not on the verge.
Which is a red flag since he’s the type who gets calmer the more he’s enraged.
The deadly type of calm.
“I told you not to get involved, didn’t I? I told you to stay the fuck out of my business if you didn’t want me to slice your fucking throat, but you went ahead and put your stupid fucking nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Gareth raises a fist and punches him in the face. Reina gasps from the force of the blow, and blood explodes on Killian’s lips, but he doesn’t release his brother. If anything, his hold appears to get stronger.
Reina runs to them, places a hand on Killian’s arm, and tries to sound firm but gentle. “Let him go, Kill.”
“Stay out of it, Mom. My dear brother and I have a score to settle.”
“You’re hurting him.”
“He hurt me first and this is payback.”
“Killian, please.” Her fingers dig into his arm, but it’s like she doesn’t exist.
“Don’t beg for him, Mom. Just don’t.”
“Let your brother go, Killian.” I step forward, approaching them at a steady pace.
When he doesn’t show any sign of hearing me, I grab him by the nape and wrench him back with enough force to send him flying against the wall if I release him.
But I don’t.
Because as much as I was a violent person in my youth, I don’t use that shit anymore—especially not on my family.
Gareth bends over, slaps both palms on his knees, and coughs. The color slowly returns to his face as his breathing settles down. Reina pours him a glass of water, from his minibar, that he gulps in one go.
Killian glares at him, his index finger tapping manically on his thigh.
“Such a golden boy, Gaz,” he mocks, his tone on the verge of exploding. “Look at you being saved by Mommy and Daddy again.”
I tighten my hold on his neck. “Knock it off.”
“I know you don’t believe me.” Gareth holds his head high. “But I didn’t do it.”
“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Because, the last time you got in between us, you wanted to ruin me through her. This was your chance to do that.”
“That was before I realized she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, asshole. I didn’t need to bring you down, because you’ve left me alone ever since she came into the picture. You don’t actively try to make my life hell like before, and you were starting to seem like a decent human being. But maybe I was just fooling myself.”
“Fuck you and your victim speech. It’s getting old fast.”
“Killian Patrick Carson.” Reina taps her foot on the ground. “I understand you’re upset, but you will not be speaking to your brother in that tone.”
“Upset?” he echoes. “Try fucking enraged, Mom. Your dear oldest son showed Glyndon something she shouldn’t have seen and now, she left.”
“I told you I didn’t show her that. I even deleted it from the archives.” Gareth’s voice rises with frustration. “Ask Jeremy, he was there and told me to bury the hatchet. Besides, you didn’t expect her to stay in the dark all her life, did you? She would’ve eventually found out. If not from me, then from someone else.”
Killian jerks in my hold in an attempt to go at his brother’s throat again.
“Calm down,” I say with patience I don’t particularly feel right now.
“Spare me the bullshit.” He forcibly wrenches himself from my hold. “You never wanted me to be born? Wonderful. Guess what, Dad? I never wanted to be your son. There, I said it, and you know what? I’m not even sorry, Mom. I should’ve told him this a long time ago.”
Reina physically steps backward from the shock, her lips trembling as if she’s finally seeing what type of monster her son actually is.
The type who’d assault his brother, jab at his father, and emotionally wreck his mother without blinking.
But I can’t even gather the energy to say I told you so, because Killian’s words and the anger behind them catches me completely off guard.
My first thought with Killian is to always subdue him somehow, shackle him in a way, knock him down a few notches so he never grows fully into who he is.
When I first found out about his tendencies, I took him hunting and enrolled him in highly competitive sports. I taught him how to channel that destructive energy and tame it, but he often spiraled out of control.
He eventually grew bored of repressing his true nature and rebelled. He punched his classmates, picked fights with thugs, and sent a few people to the ER.
I refused to bury his actions or let him use any sort of privileges. The first time the principal called me, I told him to suspend him. The second time, my father covered his tracks.
And that continued for all the times that followed.
My father is the reason Killian never learned his lesson. He kept getting him out of trouble so that the Carson name wasn’t sullied, even when I told him that he was only making him more untouchable.
“What’s wrong with being untouchable?” my father asked without batting an eye. “At least he’ll be powerful.”
My old man only ever cared about that—power. Didn’t matter how it was attained as long as the family name remained in a prestigious position.
Needless to say, I didn’t agree with him, and the fact that Killian stopped calling me and started going to his grandfather started a rift between us.
However, it’s the first time I’ve heard the words, or more accurately, the bomb he dropped just now.
I face him fully. “What did you just say?”
His shoulders have tensed, and the expression on his face is the most savage I’ve seen. He’s losing control.
I feel it.
He must feel it, too.