Finn's POV
I hated clinics. It stank of antiseptic and rotting blood, a paradox that clung to my tongue like acid eating through rot. Dr. Jafar's shadow pooled beneath the flickering fluorescents as he blocked the hallway - a vulture in a stained lab coat, wings spread to guard carrion.
"His lungs collapse twice daily now," the doctor said, teeth yellow as old piano keys. "The machines breathe for him. You understand? No more speeches about sensative topics here."
I stared at him with a blank face. "Move."
The ward beyond was a cathedral of dying. Monitors chirped hymns. Tubes coiled like sacred serpents around my brother's skeletal frame. Lucas' chest rose in mechanical spasms - a marionette jerked by invisible strings. I'd seen livelier corpses in the slave pits.
His hand felt paper-thin when I took it, veins mapping failures under cold skin. "Brother," I said, savoring the word's rancid sweetness.
Eyelids peeled back like fresh wounds. Recognition flared - not warmth, but the feral glint of a wolf caught in steel jaws. He tried wrenching free. Pathetic tremor. I tightened my grip, thumb pressing the pulse point where his life sputtered.
"You..." he whispered.
I got closer to hear what he said.
"You look like shit," he said in a monotonic voice.
Very funny. I should have done something about his mouth. He was much nicer without a mouth.
"What..." Blood-flecked lips shaped the words. "...are you here for?"
I traced his hands. "Sentiment," I lied. "Can't a man visit his sick brother anymore?"
His laugh became a wet rattle. "Resistance locations? Codes?" Each syllable cost him air. "Nothing...left to mine."
I studied the necrosis creeping up his IV line. How like Lucas to mistake cruelty for strategy. "You mistake me," I murmured, dabbing crimson from his chin. The tissue bloomed like a poppy. "I've no intention of getting anything from you..."
His pupils dilated - father's eyes.
"I shouldn't have trusted you..." he said in a hissing voice. "My men... They've got families... How many families have you ruined? You..."
I leaned closer, smelling the blood on his collar.
"Years ago, when I was still trapped in the slave market, I met a guy. He was one of my regulars and he was so nice. Unlike all my regulars, he never shouted at me... rarely raised his voice. But you know what? He was the motherfucker that would come up with the most hedious way of torturing me. And whenever he broke me, he would touch my hair gentlely, telling me that everything would be fine." My breath fogged his oxygen mask. "He taught me ecstasy and agony share the same nerve endings. That true power isn't in breaking bones..."
The heart monitor quickened.
"...but in letting men break themselves trying to escape imagined pain."
Lucas convulsed, a moth battering its wings against death's lamp. "You are a... monster..."
"Am I?" I switched on the sedative tube. "You called me brother when you needed my help to look for your precious Leah..."
The moment I mentioned Leah, his body shivered violently like a sift.
"Don't you dare to..." he roared.
"What? Fuck her?" I chuckled and pressed the call button with my free hand, all tenderness. "I don't want to fuck her anymore. I've fucked her so many times that I've lost my interests in her."
Alarms shrilled. Nurses' footsteps pounded like war drums.
I kissed his damp forehead—a lover's caress. "Rest now. Let my machines keep you breathing. Let my doctors pump you full of hope."
His scream became a gurgle as they intubated him anew. I watched the tube plunge down his throat, watched his body arch in primal revolt. Beautiful.
"Your men died clean," I whispered through the chaos, knowing he'd hear. "No racks. No salt rubbed in their nerve endings. You should see the way Jalin works on the rebels. His interrogation lacked...artistry."
His tear hit my wrist - hot as branding iron.
"They called for you at the end. Wept like children. I showed mercy they'd never grant me." I stood, adjusting my cufflinks over scars hidden by tailored wool. "But you? You will be my witness. I will find Leah and I will hurt her very badly. And you'll be there watching me to do so, brother. I'll glue your eyes open to make sure you witness every step when I work on her... through your noble, fatherly eyes."
The ward's heavy doors groaned shut behind me, sealing away the antiseptic sting and the ghosts of my brother's frailty. Outside, the night pressed in, thick and restless, and there stood Kairo, clutching a ridiculous bouquet of flowers like it might bite him. The suit I'd tailored for him clung to his frame, sharp and expensive, accentuating every hard line of his body. He looked damn hot, and I savored that, a flicker of pride cutting through the rot in my chest. But he shifted on his feet, nervous, uncomfortable, a wild thing stuffed into finery that couldn't mask what he was: untamed, raw, mine.
My eyes traced him, unbidden, and my mind dragged me back - his strong muscles flexing, chest heaving, sweat streaking his desperate face as he tortured me, fucked me, broke me open. Heat clawed up my spine, spring roaring through my blood. Since the Enhancement Plan had remade me, I'd been a slave to this hunger, my body stronger but my soul screaming to be conquered. I loved it, craved it, the way Kairo's brutality ripped me apart. Right then, I wanted to lunge at him, tear that suit to shreds, and let him claim me again, right there in the dirt. But it wasn't just lust - not with him. That gnawed at me, a sick little truth I hated, because I despised this world and myself in it.
I stalked closer, letting my slender fingers snag the flowers, pulling them to my nose with a lazy sniff. "What's this for?" I asked, voice low, steady, like I didn't care.
Kairo stuttered, his rumble shrinking. "This is for your brother… I hope he recovers soon and…" His words faded to nothing, and then his eyes snagged on the bloodstains smearing my collar. Panic flared in his face, and he grabbed my arm, hands rough and frantic as he checked me over. "Are you injured? Did he hurt you?"