Yeah, that’s true. But if Magnus was truly done with me, he would have had me eliminated. He would have had me exterminated. The fact I’m still alive proves I’m a weak spot.
“He needs Titus.” I add. “Without him, he cannot perform the final ritual.”
“Other Chapter Lords have gotten around it.”
That’s true. We both know that, but right now, the Brethren is fractured. The Esau have seen to that. But that too works in our favour. After the death of Gunther, and then the explosive death of Turner, his successor, the Brethren are on shaky ground. We need stability.
It’s no doubt, another reason why my brother was chosen in the first place, why he became a viable candidate.
“Trust me, Lyndon,” I say. “I know what I’m doing.”
He narrows his eyes, searching my face as if he could possibly read my thoughts, and then he gives a reluctant nod.
I pat him on the back, reassuring him, before I turn back to look at all the others.
“Brothers,” I say loudly, getting their attention.
The noise, the chatter, all of it instantly dies.
“Tonight, we made our mark, tonight we got a nice tiny slice of revenge. So drink, celebrate, enjoy our victory, and tomorrow, the rest of us will be here to celebrate too.” I declare.
Cheers erupt at my words.
I grab a beer, necking half of it in one go.
I have no intention of getting drunk, no intention of losing control. The alcohol might take the edge off but if there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s never underestimate him, never rest on your laurels.
Silently, I slip away, slip into the darkness of my room. This compound is so big we’re fortunate enough that none of us have to share, despite our numbers.
I toss my boots off, sink onto the crinkly sleeping bag and reach up onto the shelf, pulling down the glass jar. It took me a lot of effort to get hold of this. To break in, to get past all thosenew guards. It’s the only piece I own of her right now, but it won’t be the last.
I stare into it, stare into what feels like the abyss.
And I know it’s staring right back at me.
Bright blue, devastatingly brilliant eyes. Her eyes. My eyes now.
Windows to her very fucking soul.
`Devin
The padded room spins around me, like a cyclone of muted colours and stifled sounds, as the world beyond these walls becomes an echo of the madness inside my head.
My reflection blurs in the metallic sheen of the mask’s surface, a horrific visage that stares back at me with hollow, rimmed eyes. It’s a wicked twist of fate, a mask designed to confine my teeth and quiet my very soul, but oh, how the irony ignites my spirit.
Because it doesn’t quieten me. It doesn’t dull me.
Instead, it sets the beast in me free.
I embrace the chaos, licking at the fringes of insanity like a moth to flame.
With a frantic growl, I writhe against the straitjacket that confines my movements. The canvas is stiff and unforgiving, and just like always, it tightens its grip as I attempt to free myself. It feels like a cage constructed not of wood or steel, but of my own decaying sanity.
The dim lighting dances across the walls of this prison cell, taunting me with the absence of any escape.
My body and mind are at war, playing a sick game where I crave liberation while simultaneously dreaming of a blissful surrender.
In my desperation, I summon every ounce of strength I can muster, and I thrust my right shoulder forward, feeling the sharp, delicious pain blossom as the joint dislocates with a sickeningly loud pop.
