“Go,” Cormac said suddenly, his voice rough.
Thane blinked.
“Do us all favour,” Cormac ground out, his face red and streaked with tears. “Go. Let us be in peace. I don’t want to see your face and be reminded…” He stood, breathing hard, nostrils flaring. “If not for you…”
Jac stepped between them. “I’m going to get food and clothes,” he muttered. His voice had more steel than expected. “I’ll be back. Calm down, Cormac. Fee needs you.”
Cormac seemed to deflate like a punctured balloon.
Jac left, but not before glancing once over his shoulder at Thane with an unreadable expression.
Thane didn’t move. He wiped his hands on the front of his pants, then clenched and unclenched his fists. He couldn’t seem to keep still. The adrenaline was making its way out of his body, leaving him shaken.
Zel finally stepped in. “We’ll go,” he said, gripping Thane’s arm with a quiet firmness. “Let’s shower, eat something, and come back. We will be back soon, I promise.”
Thane opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t form past the permanent lump in his throat. He just nodded, barely. He couldn’t meet Faolan’s brothers’ eyes.
They drove home in silence. The city outside blurred past in grey shapes and dull lights.
When they reached the flat, the door creaked open to the familiar smell of whisky and burnt toast.
Maro was on the couch, drinking straight from the bottle. Lirian sat across from him with a glass in one hand and a too-still look on his face, his mouth tilted into something that almost resembled a smile at a job well done.
Maro looked up. “Whoa. Who peed on your birthday cake, lad? Did someone die?” he joked.
The moment fractured.
Thane stared at him. “It’s her.”
Maro blinked. “What?”
“Trish. Only it wasn’t Trish. She is Faolan…or Dory,” whispered Thane.
Maro sat upright, the bottle slipping from his hand. It pinged against the carpet and the dark liquid spreading in a blotch.
“No,” he whispered, like if he denied it fast enough, it would change the truth.
Zel briefly explained what had happened.
Lirian had gone utterly still. The smile vanished, his eyes were wide and stricken.
A look like grief and fear. It felt like they were back to the day they escaped, watching their prison burn as cherry blossom petals rained down on them.
“Thane,” he said, voice thin. “What have you done?”
“I didn’t know,” Thane whispered, backing toward the wall. “I swear to God, I didn’t know it was her…”
“How could you not know?” Lirian’s voice cracked. “How could you not know it was her?”
And then Maro was on him, fists flying. The first punch caught Thane’s cheekbone, the second to the gut. Thane didn’t fight back.
He deserved this.
Every blow, every curse. He had it coming. The guilt was eating him alive.
Zel yanked Maro off him, dragging Thane down the hallway and into the bathroom. “Undress,” he ordered.
Thane didn’t argue. He stripped like he was sleepwalking. Zel tossed him a towel and disappeared into the kitchen.
