Pen
I’m on the phone with Clancy still spinning the lie about a stomach bug that’s taken the five of us out when Xeno, York and Zayn finally return home. It’s been three days since the events of Saturday night. Three days of worry, of barely eating or sleeping. I’ve endured nightmares, flashbacks, tremors and cold sweats. My brain has twisted that night up into something even more terrifying, and that fear I felt has grown like a weed, choking the love I have for my Breakers, constricting my heart. I’m a fucking mess.
“Do you think you’ll be well enough to come back soon? Coz I’m telling you; Tiffany and her side-bitch Sophie are driving me up the wall. Plus, Madame Tuillard is stalking around the Academy like the wicked witch of the west and D-Neath is being cagey as fuck. He had some dudes in suits pay him a visit yesterday. Handsome fuckers…”
“I’ve gotta go—” I say, flashing a look at the hollowed-out versions of my Breakers as they enter the flat.
“But—”
“I’ll see you at the Academy in a couple days, okay? Love you.” I end the call, chucking my mobile phone onto the coffee table before standing to face them. There’s a part of me that wants to throw myself into their arms, but how can I comfort them when I haven’t even been able to comfort myself.
“Where’s Dax?” Xeno asks, and the abruptness of his tone has me flinching.
“Taking a shower.”
He nods, barely looking at me. “I should take one too.”
“Xeno…?” My voice trails off at the coldness I feel emanating from him. It only serves to fuck with my head even more, as though he’s becoming the monster my brain has twisted him into after Saturday night.
“I need a minute.”
“Wait. We need to talk!” I say desperately. Moving around the sofa quickly, I grab his arm reflexively. He stiffens.
“Not now, Tiny,” he bites out, the tension in his body whip-sharp. I drop my hand, stung by his reaction and that sudden feeling of dread creeping up my spine.
“What happened? I’ve been waiting for you to come home, going out of mind with worry. Are you okay?” I ask, forcing the jittery feeling away as I look between them all. “Zayn? York?”
“It’s been a long few days, Titch. We’re all just really fucking tired. We’ve barely slept a few hours between us,” York says, scraping a hand through his hair. Some of the white-blonde strands have a pink tint to them that could only be one thing. That’s all it takes to send me hurtling back to Saturday night and the fucking trembling starts. Again.
Zayn steps towards me. “Pen, you’re shaking.”
I grit my teeth, holding my hands up as I blink the memories away and force myself to focus. They’re home. They’re safe. They’re my Breakers, the ones I love, not the fucked-up version my brain has started to twist into monsters. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine…”
“Said no woman, ever,” York says, breaking out a smile that’s as fake as my courage is right now.
I give him my own shaky smile, forcing myself to straighten my spine and lift my chin. “If you can deal with this, then so can I.”
“You shouldn’t have to deal with anything. You shouldn’t be in the middle of all of this. You shouldn’t have even been there Saturday night and you sure as fuck shouldn’t have witnessed what you did!” Xeno snaps, looking at me as though I’m to blame for everything that went down. Given the circumstances, he’s probably right. Now he’s cleaning up the mess that is my psycho brother.
“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” I murmur. “You’re really going to fly out to Mexico and try to kill David?”
“Dax, that motherfucker. I told him not to say anything!”
“It’s madness!”
“Tiny, this has to happen—” he begins, his jaw tight, his whole body tense.
“No, it doesn’t,” I cut in. “Plan B is not happening. You are not going to Mexico!”
Xeno shakes his head, his brown curls loose and unruly. In fact, every part of him seems wild, unhinged. “We need to take David out of the equation. This has to end. I’m done with all the bullshit.”
“Even if you did get close enough to kill my brother then somehow get safely back home again, who’s to say that Santiago won’t just use someone else to take his place and do his dirty work for him?”
“Pen has a point,” Zayn says tiredly. Xeno glares at him.
“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t, but I will not stand back and wait for that cunt to try and take out the people I love again. I will not lose any of you. Do you fucking understand? I won’t!”
“But—”
“No, Tiny. David won’t stop until all the people I love are dead. He’s using this as an excuse to do what he wanted to do years ago. You know that! This isn’t just about showing loyalty to Santiago,” Xeno exclaims.
“Xeno, we knew something like this would happen… We knew the risks when we took on this job,” York says, edging closer to Xeno as though he’s expecting him to lash out.
“That was before we got Tiny back,” Xeno counters, his gaze snapping from mine to York’s and back again. “That prick had a motherfucking knife against your throat. It may as well have been David standing there!”
“But I’m fine,” I lie. Physically I’m okay, but mentally I’m far from okay. That’s not something I’m willing to share right now though. If I do, it will only fuel Xeno’s indignation. “You dealt with the threat, Xeno. I’m standing right here. You don’t need to go running off on a suicide mission. Not for me.”
Xeno strides forward and grasps my shoulders. “Not for you?” he seethes.
“Exactly,” I reply stubbornly, gritting my jaw.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You mean everything to me, Tiny! Don’t you dare fucking insinuate that you’re not worthy of our protection, that you don’t deserve to be safe, to live a happy fucking life. You are worth it. I would die for these bastards here, but for you, Tiny, I will tear the world apart with my bare fucking hands to keep you safe. Do you understand me?!” he roars, the love in his eyes frightening in its intensity.
“Xeno, back the fuck up,” York says, placing a hand on his shoulder. He grips him firmly, the veins in the back of York’s hand popping. They stare at each other, both unyielding as I stand sandwiched between them both. My tremors return and I try not to have a fucking breakdown right here between them, as my nostrils flare and I suck in a much needed breath.
I’m not scared of the men I love. I’m not. I love them. They love me. I say repeatedly, over and over in my head until I’m feeling calmer.
“This ends now. I’ll take them all out if I have too. Hudson can go screw himself. His revenge isn’t worth your lives. It fucking isn’t!” Xeno says, backing off. I let out a long, shaky breath.
“Believe me, Xeno, we all agree that David deserves to die,” Zayn says, his voice even. “But on this I’m with Pen.”
Xeno glares at both Zayn and York in turn before resting his gaze back on me. “I’m going to Mexico and killing that motherfucker like I should’ve done years ago. I’m not changing my mind.”
“For fuck’s sake,” York curses.
Blinking back my tears of frustration and trauma, I watch Xeno stride off towards his bedroom, disappearing from view. “If he goes, I know he won’t come home. I know it. I don’t care how good an assassin he thinks he is. I know my brother. He’ll take him out. Then he’ll take each of you out one by one until there’s only me left. There has to be another way.”
“We’ll talk to him when he’s had a chance to calm down,” Zayn says, tugging at the hem of his top in agitation. It’s only then that I notice they’re wearing joggers and t-shirts rather than the clothes they’d worn two nights ago. Which is probably just as well given they were covered in blood. I’m not sure I could’ve dealt with seeing that.
“Where are your clothes?” I ask.
“Evidence,” Zayn answers. His voice raspy with fatigue. “We were stripped, questioned, and released pending investigation.”
“Pending investigation? What the fuck does that mean?”
“It’s standard procedure,” York explains. “We might not be police officers, but we’ve proven ourselves enough times to gain some allowances. That’s why we were able to come home.”
“Allowances…? So that’s what murder’s called these days.”
Zayn sighs. “The four of us have put our necks on the line for Interpol more times than I can count. The information we’ve passed to them about Santiago over the last year is enough to put him away for life. Whilst messy to clean up, this is nothing in comparison to what they’ll gain from Santiago’s arrest and incarceration. Besides, they still need us. It ain’t over yet.”
“Far from over,” York adds, brushing his bloodstained hair back off his face. “Fortunately for us, we have immunity from the law. Xeno made sure of that when we made the deal with Hudson and the powers that be at Interpol…”
“Must be nice to know you can do whatever you want without any repercussions…”
York frowns, his icy-blue eyes searching my face. “We’ve never once taken advantage of that.”
“Until now.” My voice is neutral, steady, but of course York reads something in my expression, and it pisses him off.
“You’re angry? Do you think we should be punished for what happened?” he asks, flinching.
“No. I’m glad you’re home…” It’s not a complete lie. Not a lie at all, in fact. I’m so fucking relieved that they’re here. Safe.
“But…”
I press my eyes shut briefly, forcing away the memories and willing myself to forget the darker versions of the men I love. How can I explain how I feel? How can I tell them that the darkness I’d witnessed in all of them has haunted me these past few days? That I’ve woken up choking back the tears, barely able to draw breath from the nightmares. How can I explain that a small piece of me is afraid… of them? In all the time I’ve loved them, even when they returned, changed from the boys I grew up with, I was never afraid of them. Never. I don’t know how to deal with that. Fear has no place in a relationship. It has no place in our love. Forcing myself not to have a fucking meltdown, I open my eyes. Both York and Zayn are staring at me with a mixture of hurt, confusion and disappointment.
“I’m scared,” I say, forcing the words out of my mouth. “I’m scared of what I saw, what I feel. I’m scared that I’m going to lose you. I’m scared that we may never recover from everything that’s happened even if we do all make it out of this nightmare alive…”
“Don’t do that, Titch,” York exclaims, dragging his gaze over me.
“Do what?”
“Pull away.” He grits his jaw, and I can see how he battles with his emotions.
“Is this because I killed Jeb?” Zayn asks. “I did that to protect you, Pen.”
“I know that…” But. Yet again, that silent word sits heavy between us.
“Titch, Frederico and Jeb threatened your life. That piece of shit had a knife pressed against your throat. Do you have any idea how fucking torturous that was?” York asks. I try not to flinch at the bitterness crawling into his voice. I get where they’re coming from, I do, but it doesn’t make this any easier to digest. When I don’t answer York, when I look away and bite down on all the acidic words burning my throat, Zayn lifts my chin and forces me to look at him instead. His eyes are pitch black, not even the light reflected from the table lamp brightens them.
“I’ll tell you what it felt like, Pen. It was as though our fucking guts had been sliced open and our insides ripped out. I don’t regret cutting Frederico’s throat and I sure as fuck don’t regret killing Jeb. He’s had it coming for a long time now.”
“He’s your uncle,” I whisper, as if that should make a difference. It doesn’t. Blood doesn’t make family bonds, not in the way that counts. I know that better than anyone. Jeb was a cruel bastard.
“And David’s your brother. Don’t tell me that if you were faced with killing David to save Lena’s life, that you wouldn’t do it?”
“I would do anything to keep her safe…”
“Then why the fuck is this so hard to swallow? They’re dead. Good fucking riddance!” he shouts, balling his fists and glaring at me angrily. “Don’t make those bastards human when we both know they were fucking monsters. Have you forgotten how they both treated you before tonight?”
“No, I haven’t. It’s just…”
“It’s just what?”
“You’re…”
“Monsters too. Am I right?” York interjects, his eyes flaring with hurt.
My eyes fill with tears and my voice breaks. “No… No… that’s not what I mean.” What I saw was monstrous. It haunts me, but I know they’re not monsters like Jeb or even Frederico. I know that. I do.
Zayn clutches his hair in frustration. “Then what the fuck do you mean? Why are you looking at us like that, Pen. Why?”
“What the fuck’s going on?” Dax exclaims, striding into the room and coming to an abrupt standstill. He looks at me, his features softening. “Kid…”
“I didn’t mean… I’m just… Shit!” I exclaim, the trauma of the past few days worming its way back into my psyche. Dax strides towards me as an ice-cold sweat breaks out over my skin and tremors begin to take over my body. I can’t seem to get a grip on myself as I wrap my arms around my chest in self-comfort.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Dax says, sliding his arm around my shoulder. I flinch, hating myself in that moment for doing so because when I look up at his face, it’s as though I’ve slapped him. Dropping his arm, he gives me space. Over the past few days, Dax has begun to understand that I’ve needed him close but not too close whilst I try to get my head straight. I’m so grateful he hasn’t tried to push me.
“Titch…?” York frowns, his anger disappearing as he places his hand on my arm and searches my face. Right now, there’s nothing I can do but let him read me. I don’t have the energy to slip on a mask. “Tell me I haven’t lost you,” he eventually whispers.
“What you need to do, York, is back the fuck off. Kid’s in shock and you arseholes haven’t fucking helped the situation! Now get out of my sight before I break your faces!”
“No. Don’t fight. This isn’t what I want,” I say, scared, frustrated with myself. “I just have to get my head around everything. I just need time.”
York recovers first, his expression one of apology and regret. He looks at me like I’m a wounded animal who’ll either die from fright or lash out to protect itself. Right now, both reactions are possible. “This is so fucked up. I’m sorry, Titch. I’m sorry you had to witness what happened. I’m not that man. Not really. Not deep down. You know that, right? I fucking swear it. I love you.”
My eyes fill with tears, but I blink them back, forcing myself to be strong, and willing myself to stop shaking. To see York, my funny, lighthearted, Fred Astaire loving, best friend. “I know you do. I love you too. I do.”
York swallows hard and dips his head, but I see the apprehension in his gaze regardless. He sees the fear I hold inside despite my efforts to cover it up. “I’m going to go shower and sleep. We’ll talk more in a few hours, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree, biting the inside of my cheek until it bleeds.
“Zayn, are we good?” Dax questions, daring him to object.
“Fuck, yes, of course we are. It’s been a fucked up few days. I’m not… myself.”
“I know that. I’m not either.”
“We’ll be okay,” he replies heavily, and for the first time since we’ve found each other again, I seriously begin to doubt the truth in that statement.
