Sweet Legacy
Page 51I gasp.
Gretchen just glares at him.
“For three weeks prior, she starved me. I was given two slices of bread and a glass of water each day.” The haunted look in his eyes says he remembers that time as if it were yesterday. “When I was ready, she sent me to the city. She arranged events so that I was found, so that our parents”—he looks at me—“would be the ones who adopted me.”
“What was your mission?” Gretchen demands.
Thane turns to her. “My mission was, and remains,” he says, his voice chilled, “to kill the sister of the Key Generation who possesses the far-roaming power of the gorgon Euryale.” He doesn’t look at me as he says, “To kill Grace.”
Sillus gasps.
I can only stare and blink.
Gretchen launches herself at him before anyone can react. She has him on the floor, her palms tightening around his throat. His arms spread out, palm up. He’s not resisting her. If what he says about his training is true, he could probably pin Gretchen in a flash. He’s letting her choke him.
“Do it,” he whispers. “I deserve it.”
That stuns her. She doesn’t release his neck entirely, but she sits back on his chest.
“Why didn’t you?” she asks. “Why did you abort your mission?”
He shakes his head from side to side. “I—” He glances at me, and in that look I see everything I need to know. He loves me, unconditionally. He’s my brother, however that came to be, and he loves me. “I couldn’t.”
He returns his attention to her. “I wouldn’t.”
She releases his neck.
“They know?” she asks. “Your keepers know you’re not their boy anymore?”
Thane nods. “I told them.” He looks away. “Stupid. That’s why they sent another.”
“Is that where you went?” I ask. “When you disappeared, you went to tell them you wouldn’t kill me?”
He doesn’t nod. He doesn’t have to.
“That’s who beat you up,” I say.
“I shouldn’t have gone,” he says. “I thought if I told them about you, about how you are a good person and you only want the best for everyone, maybe they would change their minds about the whole operation. Instead, they planted a bomb.”
“Bomb?” Gretchen growls. “The one that destroyed my loft?”
The pieces fall into place.
“You made the call,” I blurt. He doesn’t answer, but I know it’s what happened. “You saved our lives.”
He winces in pain. “I know.”
She climbs to her feet, knocking him in the ribs with her boot as she steps over him. Sillus runs over and kicks him in the thigh.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what to feel. The big brother I have looked up to for most of my life, who taught me how to knee a guy who got too handsy and who always made sure I got the biggest brownie on the plate, is suddenly a stranger. One of the people I trust the most, and he was the one I should have been afraid of.
He’s still my brother, but he has also been my enemy. I feel like I don’t know him at all.
Thane lies there for a moment before finally getting up. He looks defeated. I don’t know what to say. I want to tell him everything is okay, but is it? How can I tell?
Greer coughs, sputtering breath into the air.
I rush into the bedroom and sit at her side.
“Hush, Greer,” I soothe. “We’re here. You’re okay.”
Our mother sits at her other side, checking Greer’s pulse and smoothing fingertips over her forehead. She’s been watching over her ever since we got back to the safe house.
Greer is still unconscious, though I’m sure that’s not surprising. I wonder how long she’ll be out. I wonder what death, even a brief one, will have cost her.
I glance up as Thane steps into the doorway. He looks at Greer, and then, reassured that she’s okay, he turns and leaves.
He chose me.
Leaving Greer’s side, I return to the other room to reassure my brother that everything is fine. “Hey, Thane, I—”
He’s gone.
CHAPTER 21
GREER
The smell is terrible, revolting, like decaying flesh and skunk and vomit all combined into one. It’s worse than the abyss, even worse than the trash bins behind Fisherman’s Wharf—and that’s saying a lot.
At first my eyes won’t open, like they’re glued shut. Maybe I should be grateful for that. If the smell is this bad, I can only imagine what it looks like—and I’d rather not.
Instead, I try to move. My chest explodes with a white hot pain.
I collapse back down, struggling to keep my breathing even and to maintain consciousness. The last thing I want is to hyperventilate and pass out here, wherever here is.
“Is this really her?” a young female voice whispers.
An older woman says, “Couldn’t be.”