Page 163 of Shrapnel

His body screamed in protest as he stooped to pick up the dropped Glock. Checking that it was loaded, he racked the slide before dragging himself up the stairs to the saloon.

The duct tape around his foot made a skating sound as he pulled his lame leg across the rough wooden floor. Everything hurt, but all he could see was the fire dancing in his eyes.

With a gun in his hand, Jamie was a god. And he was done granting other people’s prayers.

Dominic was striding down the stairs. His pale lips were pressed together in worry as he rounded around the ornate banister.

“What was that noise?”

He looked so small. When they were kids Jamie thought he was the strongest person he had ever met. His shield. Dominic knew how to slide his arms through the bottom of a vending machine to steal snacks. He knew how to stay warm on winter nights. And he knew what to say when Jamie was crying so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“What happened?”

Dominic stilled. He cocked his head toward Jamie. Now that he knew he was there, he could pick up Jamie’s ragged breathing. Probably could smell him, too.

“What happened to you?” Jamie asked again. His hands were down, the Glock resting against his right thigh.

There was a long moment of silence while Dominic took stock of the situation. He was no doubt realizing just what that noise was. And that Ian wasn’t coming to help him.

“Life happened.” His words were crisp, sharp. Little blades designed to kill slowly. “You think you’re better than me? Look at us. We’re the same, I just never had the luxury of empathy.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. The glasses on his face twitched. Thick scars carved their way across his striking face.

“You were all I had.”

“And you left me!” Dominic hissed, slamming a hand against his chest. “You left me alone. You said you were my brother, but you walked away and never looked back.”

“You’re wrong,” he mumbled thickly. “All I did was look back. I’ve been carrying around the guilt of what I did to you for all these years.”

Oppressive guilt built itself into walls. Walls that blocked out all the things that made him human. Guilt that tried to isolate him. Tried to make him into Dominic.

“That’s the difference between us, Dominic.” Jamie lifted his arm, sighting down the gun. “You never cared about me. About what you did to me.”

Dominic’s lips quivered. “How could you say that? I love you!”

They tried to break them. Suck out their humanity and leave behind vicious husks. Killers. Monsters. But Jamie was put back together. The people in his life stitched his broken pieces back together with their love. They smoothed his edges with trust. They saved him, not from death, but from the nothingness.

“You can’t. You can’t love me…but I can.” Jamie adjusted his grip on the gun. “I can love. I can feel. And I won’t turn into you.”

Dominic deflated. He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t form the words.

“You are the only person I ever regretted killing.”

Jamie pulled the trigger. Then he pulled it again. And again.

30

House of the Rising Sun

For the secondtime this week, Owen was riding in Kurt’s old Bronco. Stuffed into the back, he dragged his knees to his chest and tried not to look at the changing landscape out the window. The windows were open, dry air buffeting through the cab. Grains of dirt whipped past his face, and he pushed his hair out of his face. The sun was close to setting, hovering above the western horizon like a threat. At any moment it could wink out, plummeting them into complete darkness.

Owen stared down at his feet. There was a sense of finality in the truck, something they weren’t willing to mention but everyone felt. His mother used to tell him when he was afraid to think of the worst thing that could happen. Could he survive that? Then it wasn’t so scary.

That was fine when the stakes were a failed job interview or an awkward encounter at a bar. But these stakes? Life and death. Owen wasn’t sure he could survive the worst-case scenario.

Wasn’t this exactly why he quit this lifestyle? Because he was afraid. His fear was a living thing writhing in his chest. It clenched around his heart with every mile, growing stronger until he felt like the blood in his veins turned to sludge. The world was made up of men like Icarus, those willing to risk it all to feel the wind on their face. And people like Owen would rather live in the shade than risk getting burned.

The truck bumped across a road that had been decimated by nature, tires kicking up a plume of dirt. He looked up to see a building materializing out of nowhere. Dropping his legs, he sat forward and leaned between the front seats.