‹ Prequel: Storm Brew
Status: TRAILER https://youtu.be/hOYDQm6H6Ns

Final Curtain

Chapter 26

Mel's POV

Aric was a tyrant. A tyrant with a large room built into a small gym. There were weights, a running mill and, of course, an area with cushy mats. I was standing on the cushy mats now—ow! Make that lying on them… Everything hurt as I picked myself off the green-colored mat. Aric waited patiently for me to quit wincing and prepare for the next round. Jeez, I thought spotting a large faded bruise along the underside of my left arm. Aric had been re-teaching me how to fight for over a week now.

He chuckled at my strained face.

"You've withstood my training methods before, little sister. You survived, and might I add? You were a good student." A compliment. How kind of him. "Now, stop thinking so much when you come at me. If you think about what you're going to do your eyes will dart to the place you plan on hitting or you'll body will tilt the way you plan on evading. Those things tip adversaries off. You don't need to think to fight."

So he kept saying.

"How am I supposed to do anything without planning ahead?"

"By letting your instincts take over. Fight or flight, Melissa." He dotted out. "I'll give you this example: when you shot Drew—" my eyes widened at Aric's nonchalant attitude. "—you didn't think about it. Sure, you thought about saving Nathaniel and yourself. But you could've missed. You had never shot a gun in your life. Your body's physiological response was to release adrenaline and that, dear sister, was what made you lethal. When you're in danger things happen faster—or seem to—in your mind. Your body reacts to the situation quicker too, more efficiently."

"Sometimes it's not enough." I pointed out. If adrenaline was such a miracle everyone in bad situations would live to tell the tale.

"No, not all the time." He agreed. "That's why training is important. You're becoming quicker but those little tells must go. The problem is… you don't feel threatened by me. It worked better before. The first time I taught you, you still didn't know we were related. You still didn't know whose side I was on—that made you slightly cautious."

Aric had a point. I knew he wouldn't really hurt me: send me flying into the wall and crush my skull open until watermelon juice oozed out. My nose scrunched at that mental picture. I'd been conjuring dark imagery ever since the incident. Pacey's death. I took a lungful. Sweaty strands escaped my ponytail.

"Can we take five?" I asked feeling my stomach clench as Pacey's lifeless body sprang to mind. The sickness would soon add to anger, anger to revenge.

If my half-brother saw any play of emotions cross my face, he made no comments. I didn't miss the lingering stare on my hips, where my hands were. I glanced down and saw I was digging my fingers into my leggings, so much so that I could feel my hipbone. I wanted to growl. Maybe I should get incense or some other crap to keep my Zen. On the inside I smiled bitterly, like it was possible to be calm anymore.

"Nathaniel told me you finished going through Ashley's recordings last night." Aric tossed me a water. I caught it—not at all clumsy. I might have beamed a little. Ha! How's that for reflexes? Aric didn't look impressed.

"Yeah. The creepiest one was when Nolan's goons delivered me home. After you guys did… whatever for him." Hearing how afraid I'd been after coming to struck me silly. After little more than a month, I had changed. Was I closer to the person I'd become over the course of the six months I forgot? Yes. My growing feelings for Nate were concrete proof. Still, I was becoming a different Melissa: someone who doesn't faint or feel sick at the sight of blood, someone who wants revenge against another human being. I wasn't stupid, I knew Nate was trying to tether my last shred of sanity. I was doing all I could not to venture down into the basement and take stock of her pain and revel in it. Doing so, would mean spitting on Nathaniel's efforts to keep me from crossing the invisible line into that black chasm.

Aric broke my thoughts.

"Have you snooped anything else on there?"

The shrug I offered ended in a hiss of pain. Damn my shoulder blade was killing me.

"A couple of photos. Just of me and him. There's nothing about you or Anna."

"Hmm. Yes, she put that somewhere else." My brows drew together. Aric put my curiosity out of its misery. "She has a lot of things on me. She saved them on the computer tower, though. I went through it the night we brought her in."

"Anything about the evidence?"

"Yes, on all of us. Except for Anna. She seems to be completely in the clear." Aric grew perplexed. "I have no idea why Nolan isn't using her to get to me. I'm sure he knows about our relationship. Anyway," he sighed. "There are pdf files of Nate's contracts. There are pictures of Drew's body, the gun you used and there are e-mails clients sent me."

I balked.

"You're contacted to kill people via e-mail?"

Aric smirked with a condescending edge, "No, luv. I'm not dumb. I use codes. And I don't just kill people, I'm not an assassin. I'm a mercenary for hire. I do other jobs."

"Such as?" I asked, unconvinced.

"Stealing. Protecting. Stalking. Scaring people. Collecting from people…"

"Basically, anything as long as you get paid."

A daunting grin showed up, "Exactly."

I was a little impressed. I thought Aric was just like Anna and Nate. I'd been wrong.

"Anna told me you ran away from The Order when you were a kid." Aric gave me a mild glance. I ignored it. "Why did you become a mercenary?"

"Because that's how life works. Ever heard about nature versus nurture? My nurturing consisted of a power-hungry father, who rather beat his children to an inch of their lives as opposed to coddling them. By the time I escaped them, my nature was too warped. A young lad on the streets falls back on what he knows. I started with stealing. I didn't kill anyone until I was fifteen."

"Why did you?"

"I joined a gang. I guess being alone doesn't suit my genes, I'm not sure if it suits anyone's." Aric acknowledged dryly. "We got into a small turf war. The other gang thought it would be smart to pick us off one by one—at least kill some of us to send a message." He paused with a slow etching grin. "They picked the wrong target."

"How did you do it?"

Aric's grin vanished in an instant. He swept an arm across his forehead.

"Why so interested, luv? You never pried this much before."

My gut told me Aric was trustworthy. So, I didn't lie, "Because I want to kill Ashley."

"Ah," he breathed, not as surprised as I thought he would be. "You mean it. Hmm. I don't think Nathaniel would enjoy hearing you admit that."

"He knows."

"I sense another request coming on."

I bit back a frustrated shriek. Aric knew what I wanted, but he wanted to hear me ask out loud. Maybe it made sense. I mean, if I couldn't say it, it meant I didn't have the balls to do it.

"Teach me other things… Not just self-defense or how to injure—I… I want to know how to kill."

Aric sat there, on the mat, looking up at me. Suddenly shadows crept around his eyes and his chest swelled with a massive breath—he held it in. Aric appeared reluctant, even a little disappointed.

"Killing someone is easy, Melissa. You've done it. Do you remember how simple it was?" Thanks to my newly recovered memories, I could shut my eyes and watch Drew's gloating turn to surprise. It was a slow motion of realization of how wrong she'd been, so convinced I wouldn't end her to save Nate and myself. "Ah, you do remember. You don't even look sick thinking about it."

I pretended to study the bottle, turning it over my hands.

"I'm never going to be the same." It wasn't a question.

Aric's almost looked sad.

"I guess our father managed to lure you into this madness of a life, after all. Even beyond the grave that bastard keeps screwing people over." With a groan, he pulled himself to his feet. "Nolan learned everything from him. He was raised to be next in line. Riley, too. Everything that happens to you is a product of what Vincent twisted him into."

I stopped scratching at the label.

"Is that why…?" My tone faltered into a small whisper. The Violet subject was touchy for Aric.

"Why…?" he prompted.

"Why you didn't kill Nolan back when… back when he killed Violet?"

"Part of it, yeah. I thought… maybe he and Riley could change—run from it. Like I did. But years kept passing and they kept staying, eating Vincent's rotten morals. I thought Nolan was history when you and Nathaniel left him for dead in that freezer. I felt happy. Vincent was dead, Riley was dead, and Nolan was dead." But he hadn't died. He'd been found and taken to a hospital, slipped into a coma, like I had. "Melissa," I blinked, locking eyes with near luminescent green irises. "I didn't know your parents, but from what I've gathered they never wanted you to go down this path."

"I'm not following in their footsteps, Aric." Are you sure? A little voice piped up, feeding me doubts I didn't want to wrestle with right now. Or ever.

Aric nodded, rubbing his neck.

"I can teach you how to use a gun properly, for self-defense." he walked up to me. "But to learn how to injure you also need to know where you shouldn't aim… 'Less you want to kill some poor sod. Does that sound good to you, luv?"

"Yes."

"Right, then." He whirled, leaving his back to me—then stopped. "One more thing," he looked at me over a round shoulder. "This stays between us. No telling Anna or Nathaniel."

Like I needed to be told. Still, I said, "You've got a deal."

***

After we struck our shady deal, we trained for two hours. Since it ended, I'd had time to shower, to eat a lasagna meant for four people and to stare at the ceiling. Anna was at college, Aric was… wherever and Nate had gone to "check" on our "guest". But before going, Nathaniel firmly reminded me not to follow which earned him an eye-roll.

Now, some sort of divine inspiration had entered my body. Maybe from all that ceiling staring. I was on a roll. Drawing things so quickly my brain couldn't keep up with what my hands and fingers were working on. I ripped another page with thick charcoal shades and lines, starting on another. A lot of papers were strewn across Nate's bed. I was drawing shadows, things I couldn't make sense of. Others were of silhouettes. And this one… the one I was furiously drawing, carving facial lines and magnifying the details to a maximum of my capability… It was a face. Male. It wasn't Nathaniel, it wasn't anyone I remembered… I paused on the nose cane. Something about this half-done face… It was like a shadow slowly creeping around the corner. Could it be Nolan? My hand went back to work. For what felt like an absurd amount of time, I sat on Nate's bed, hunched, sketching a face my subconscious fed me.

My fingers were smudged with charcoal from playing around with shades. I held up the finished drawing, studying it. Until now I hadn't let myself analyze what I'd put on paper. It was a young guy; his jaw was square following the lining of his hard cheeks. The eyes were round, and hair framed his forehead and face, reaching below his ears. I couldn't put a name to the face. I raked short nails across the raised scars of my left wrist. The door eased open, stealing my attention. To my surprise, it was Aric. He eyed the scattered drawings on the floor and bed, then landed his gaze on me. His eyes crinkled with a half-smile.

"Good to see you're keeping busy."

Mutely, I turned my sketchbook his way.

"Do you know this guy?"

Aric stepped closer and took the thing from me. His forehead creased. A minute later, my half-brother shook his head.

"Can't say I do. Do you know his name?"

"No. His face just… came to me. Like all of these." I waved at the loose pages surrounding us. "It's got to be from my time with Nolan, right?"

"It's likely." Aric crouched to gather some other masterpieces, studying them over as he spoke. "Nathaniel is down in the basement with our unwilling housemate. His mood's going to go straight to hell after I tell him Nolan wants us to cover another drug distribution."

"Like at the rave?"

"Yes, luv, something along those lines." I wanted Aric to elaborate. He didn't. "Anna's coming to stay here tonight."

"Because of Ashley."

"Yes." I felt that little voice rearing its head… "We still need her."

I glowered at him, "I know."

Aric let the painted papers fall on the mattress. Without another word, he left. I ignored the anger swirling in my veins and flipped the portrait page.

***

Nate pulled a dark hoodie over his head, looking resigned. I was busy duct taping my drawings across the bedroom walls, giving the phrase 'see the big picture' a whole new meaning. A drawer smacked closed. I looked over a shoulder, catching Nate's stiff movements as he pulled his jeans up and strapped a knife along his tibia.

"Won't you guys be pat down or something?"

"It's a frat party. There won't be any police." His tone was clipped. Aric had been right about his mood.

I nodded absently. The drawing I'd been holding floated to the ground as I walked across the room, climbing on bed and sitting beside him. Nate threw me a questioning glance as he reached for his boots. We hadn't talked much today. I wanted to tell him about my drawing marathon and about the male face. But the irritation was dizzying and palpable in Nathaniel, so I hadn't elaborated.

"So," I started, smudging the charcoal further as I rubbed my finger pads together. "I missed you today."

Nate finished lacing his boots, giving a nice tug on the laces. He straightened looking down at me. His face didn't break into a blinding smile, but I saw some foul mood boil down.

With a rough, unused voice, he said, "Is that why you went on this bender?"

Over the last week, I'd grown more accustomed with Nathaniel's mood swings and his tendency to be obnoxious. That's how I recognized the small dose of humor underlining his words. And why I grinned a little.

"Don't flatter yourself."

Nate's hand was warm as it dwarfed mine. I watched as the dusty paint on my fingers dirtied his. We sat together in silence, our fingers intertwined. Our arms brushing. Then, Nate smirked. He reached out with his free hand, smoothing his thumb along my cheek.

"I had no idea you were into face painting." I rolled my eyes. Nate's hand curled behind my neck, bringing us closer. He dipped his head and kissed my forehead. For a second, my nerves felt as though they were on fire. And… we hadn't kissed since last week. Yeah, but we'd been sharing this very bed. One could say we were taking things slow in an unconventional way. "I'll make time for you tomorrow."

I didn't want him to leave, but saying it would be selfish and add to his bad mood.

"I'll hold you to that." I breathed pulling back. I tried for a soft smile.

With Nate and Aric gone, Anna was downstairs playing babysitter. She'd brought some Chinese and we'd eaten a while ago. Now, I was back to fitting walls with my shadowy drawings. I had crammed twenty-seven pages on a single wall; I sat on bed trying to find some sort of pattern to the mess. Dark twisting shadows with lighter shades for contrast. I stared and wondered. My brain was a landscape of weirdness as far as I could...

Squinting, I leaned forward. Two of those pages looked like they fit like jigsaw puzzle pieces. Jumping to my feet—wincing as my muscles burned from this morning's roughness—I quickly unstuck those pages. I saddled them side-by-side on the floor. My eyes darted back and forth, searching for another fit... Maybe my mind wasn't a chaotic mess, maybe there was method to this madness. Fingers sifted along drawing after drawing, linking three other pieces—I put those on the floor, too. And I kept on going. One more matched the first two and then my eye became clever, identifying patterns easily. This was a giant, picture-like riddle. Once all twenty-seven pages were arranged on the floor, I started to scotch tape them to one another, creating a massive poster of my art. Finished, I lifted it and plastered the large thing on the wall, keeping it from falling with a hand, while reaching for more tape. After it was secure, I backed up, swallowing hard with raw anticipation to see what the hell this was.

It was a poorly lit room, with hundreds of shadows being cast all around, except for the center of it. I wasn't sure why, but a small dangling bulb was called to mind. A large, looming silhouette was stationed just outside the small area bathed in light—

My wrists hurt. Ah, that was a big understatement. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw charred skin, the blood dripping across my skin, blood coating and drying on the chains from how hot they were. I hadn't stopped shaking, not after Logan cleaned my wrists and bandaged them. A small, hollow sound that sounded faintly like a chuckle echoed. It came from me, I realized, biting down a sob. I was chained to the furnace again, with a pair of Zip-ties. Tears burned and my throat constricted—no. I wouldn't cry. I had cried enough when Logan burned me. I pushed against the desire to break. I dry heaved and leaned my head against the gone cold iron.

The latch on the outside whined as someone twisted it. I stilled my breathing and shut my eyes, ignoring the pounding headache and the smell of singed skin. Just pretend to sleep, that will drive them away... but it didn't. I heard the light blinking to life, I heard the door being shut. Then soundless steps.

"I know you're just pretending." Nolan. I forced myself to remain unmoving. Just breathe in and breathe out. Warm breath washed over my left cheek. My eyelid twitched... "Oh come on. Don't tell me getting these burns was the worst pain you ever felt?" Nolan seized my chin in his calloused hand. "Don't make me mad, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that." I snapped, eyes open and glaring. Tears gone dry.

Nolan presented a winning smile.

"If it garners such a strong response I think I have to use it." The smile slipped slowly as his eyes flicked over my face. I felt uncomfortable and tried to squirm. Nolan's free hand traveled some place out of sight—I jolted with a scream. The bastard pressed down on my bandages. Pain jumped to the forefront of my eyes, leaving black spots. "My father must've gone easy on you. I don't understand why, he put us all through hell whenever we stepped out of line." He explained languidly, as if torture was a plain punishment for children. Or for anyone, for that matter. "Aric always found ways to make our father lose it. I grew up hearing him scream day and night. It took some getting used to."

I wanted to tell him to stop. Thinking of Aric being hurt senselessly like that... it made me sick. If I told him to stop, though, he would only use it against me and feed me more details. I stayed quiet. Nolan's thumb trailed across my cheek, stopping at the beauty mark above my lip. He caressed it. I shuddered.

"Riley and I should've killed you all when we had the chance. If dad told us what a danger you really were..." Right. The twins hadn't known why Vincent was so hellbent on getting a hold of me. "It doesn't matter now, does it? Riley is dead and so is dad." I pushed against the furnace on impulse when Nolan's hand dove for my neck.

My brain reeled: he needs me alive, he won't kill me, but... My thoughts trailed off as his fingers squeezed. But there were worse things than death. Nolan forced my head back—pinning it against the cold, hard metal by pressing on my neck. He moved suddenly, shifted, really. He wasn't crouching beside me anymore. He was straddling me. My pulse quickened under his hand.

The smile was back. It was mocking and slightly delirious. Like he enjoyed overpowering me—making me struggle for air. He leaned in. My chest brushed against his and my legs worked on their own, thrashing. But Nolan's weight was too much for my weakened state. The only thing I managed was to jostle my bound hands and cause a new wave of pain to overcome me. I couldn't say how long he strangled me. But when his hand slipped, I wished he'd kept doing it, because Nolan held my chin again, angling my head to the side. He dipped down and kissed below my ear, sending an involuntary pleasant shiver that quickly turned into blooming terror.

"...no..." I whispered. It was lost, too raspy to even be called a whisper.

Nolan's hand started down an offending path. His lips seared me in a terrible sense—I couldn't get him to back off. His mouth brushed my cheekbone, I could feel him smiling. His breath rushed over my skin, making me cold. His lips hovered mine before touching. Nolan forced our lips together. I thought of my mom—would... would Nolan do the same Vincent did to her? I panicked. The thought leaving me a broken mess. I screamed into the kiss—I was being sexually violated by my brother. I opened my mouth after he tried shoving his tongue inside—I let it in and bit down. Hard. Nolan pulled back, spitting on the ground. Blood. The taste of it sparked my taste buds. I screamed curses at him until Nolan's hand gripped my jaw in a crushing grip, downgrading my yells to whimpers.

"That hurt, sweetheart." I couldn't open my mouth to tell him off. Nolan's voice came off with a little lisp, though. I took solace and pride where I could. "It's a shame you're my sister. You are beautiful." he smirked at my glare. "And you have spunk. You would've made a great assassin."

Nolan's weight shifted as he tipped closer, looming above. His larger body cornered mine.

"Maybe you shouldn't share this with your boyfriend once I hand you back into his custody, hmm? He seems easy to rile up. Wouldn't want him doing anything that would get him killed... or thrown in jail." Nolan released my jaw. It felt bruised. "I'll be going now, I have business to attend. Have a pleasant night, sister."

After he left and locked the door, I realized I'd been crying. I cried until my eyes felt itchy and dry. I didn't catch any sleep. Time began to feel even more wonky than before. I spent every moment afraid of Nolan coming back. I didn't sleep, just dosed off, waking at the smallest sound. Paranoia settled in. Logan would come in and take care of me. I wouldn't talk to him. I would fix my eyes on a single point and ignore everything else. Sometimes I wondered where I was, why I was in a moldy basement. Was it a dream? Yeah, I would be waking up soon. I stopped thinking of who would come... Because why would someone come? This was a bad dream. It was a long and drawn out nightmare. And then... then something prickled my arm and the next thing I knew, I woke up from the long nightmare, in my apartment.
♠ ♠ ♠
"Something's getting in the way.
Something's just about to break.
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane.
So tell me how it should be.

Try to find out what makes you tick.
As I lie down
Sore and sick.
Do you like that?
Do you like that?" - Diary of Jane by Breaking Benjamin

More frequent updates! I don't know how long I can keep these up but I'll try my best :) Did you guys expect that? Please leave a comment and help me with dishing out more chapters, your support means a lot to me! Have a good week everybody ;)