Darren's POV
The sea stared up at me, a black, churning bastard, its waves clawing at the pier like they wanted to drag me under. I gripped the fishing rod, the splintered wood biting into my palms, and cast the line out, watching it sink into the abyss. Seth slouched beside me, his own rod dangling limp in his hands, his face a sullen mask under the bruised sky. The kid was a storm cloud, all gloom and thunder, and it gnawed at me, seeing him like that. I didn't know how to fix it - didn't know how to fix much of anything anymore. My gut twisted, heavy with the weight of his silence, but I kept my mouth shut, letting the wind howl between us.
He'd been sulking all damn day, ever since Leah forgot his precious spring rolls and the sardines for that mangy mutt of his, Sharbo. I tried to muster something—some scrap of comfort, a grunt, a slap on the back—but it stuck in my throat like a bone. Seth just stared at the water, his jaw tight, his eyes hollowed out with whatever misery he was chewing on. Finally, he snapped, hurling his rod onto the pier with a clatter that made me flinch. He sank down, knees pulled up, and sulked there like a kicked dog.
I squinted at him, the cigarette I'd been craving burning a hole in my pocket. "You can sulk with a rod in your hand, you know," I said, voice rough as gravel. "Might even catch something."
He didn't bite, just turned those wide, wounded eyes on me, and I felt the air shift, thick with something unspoken. "Are you all, like, not human?" he asked, his voice cutting through the wind like a blade.
I froze, the rod jerking in my grip. "I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered, flicking my line back into the water, pretending I hadn't heard the tremor in his words.
But Seth wasn't letting it go. He leaned forward, his breath hitching, words spilling out like he'd been holding them too long. "Come on, Darren. Boss has got power that'd make a man piss himself. And you, you heal like some freak show miracle. Her brother's either charming the world to its knees or mad enough to burn it down - human's don't pull that off. I haven't met her ex-husband yet, but I'd bet my ass he's another ruthless son of a bitch. And all of you - you've got this beautiful charm, this gravity, like you're not even real. Last time I saw a group like that, it was in some Twilight bullshit. So… are you vampires or what?"
I barked a laugh, harsh and hollow, waving my rod like it could swat his nonsense away. "Vampires? Christ, Seth, there's no such thing. That's just movie trash - humans scared shitless of blood and death, drooling over power and forever. They twist the world into stories because they're too dumb to see it straight. It's all fear and wanting, nothing more."
He didn't buy it, not really. He snatched a stone off the pier and skipped it across the water, the ripples mocking my calm. "I don't care what you are," he said, quieter now, his voice cracking open. "I just want to be with her. Leah. Never had a mother growing up, and she's… she's everything I dreamed one'd be - strong, powerful, hot as fuck, and untouchable. But half the time, she acts like I'm nothing to her. No love, no nothing."
I sighed, the sound scraping my throat raw. "What, you figure all that because she didn't bring you spring rolls?"
"It's not just the damn spring rolls!" he snapped, his grudge flaring hot. "She forgot Sharbo's sardines too - left her starving. And since you came back, it's like I don't exist. She's glued to you, doesn't give a shit about me. Now with your kid in the picture, she'll have no love left to spare."
I smirked, bitter and sharp, the truth of it stinging me too. "Seth, Leah's not cold. She's just… Leah. She doesn't do love like some sappy bitch with hugs and kisses. She gave you freedom - shit you'd kill for - and she gave you the trade of the east coast. That's trust, kid. If you meant nothing, she wouldn't even bother. Today, yeah, she forgot to bring your food and stuff, but we damn near got flattened by a truck. She's at the fish market now, getting you something for compensation. I'm here, fishing with your sorry ass. That's our apology."
He glared at me, then chucked another stone into the water, hard enough to scare the fish into hiding. I cursed under my breath, but before I could chew him out, my line tugged - sharp, insistent. I yanked the rod, muscles straining, and hauled up a sea bass, fat and thrashing, its scales glinting like wet steel. Seth perked up, his sulk forgotten for a second as he watched it flop on the pier.
He grinned, then cocked his head, eyeing me like I was a puzzle. "You handled that truck incident like a pro today. Were you in the military or something?"
The word hit me like a fist, and the world tilted. My hand slid to the knife at my waist, fingers closing around the hilt, and I stepped toward him, slow, deliberate. "Don't ask me about my past for your own sake," I snarled, my voice a low, guttural threat, the kind that promised blood.
Seth shrank back, his face paling, fear flickering in his eyes. I hated it - hated him seeing me like that - but I couldn't stop the darkness leaking out. I turned to the fish, slicing into it with quick, brutal strokes, guts spilling onto the wood. When I looked up, he was still staring, trembling like a cornered pup.
I washed the blood off my hands, the water cold and biting, then grabbed his face, rough but steady. "Stop daydreaming, kid," I growled, shoving the bucket of fish guts into his arms. "Go feed your shark."
He bolted, clutching the bucket like a lifeline, and I watched him disappear down the pier. Alone now, I faced the sea, the wind clawing at my skin. I dug the lighter from my pocket, flicked it alive, and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling thick and acrid. My fingers toyed with the lighter, spinning it, stroking it, before I shoved it back where it belonged. The salt and tobacco mixed, bitter on my tongue, and I narrowed my eyes against the sting.
Then it came - his voice, slithering into my skull like a snake -
"Don't you remember what I said before I died?"
I froze, the cigarette dangling from my lips. Lester. Clear as fucking day, like he was breathing down my neck.
"Leah destroyed our family. You have to kill her. No choice."
I shook my head, hard, willing it away. "You're dead," I hissed, my pulse hammering. "You're not real."
But it grew louder, sharper -
"Tonight. Kill that bitch and set us free."
I slapped my head, clawed at my hair, trying to rip the sound out, when footsteps crunched behind me. I spun, and there she was - Leah, a bag of fish in her hand, her eyes piercing me like she could see the madness festering inside.
"Darren?" she said, wary, soft. "You okay?"
I muttered something - I'm fine - but it sounded like a lie even to me. Her gaze dropped, and I followed it. My hand was wrapped around the knife, the blade biting into my flesh, blood dripping slow and red onto the pier. I hadn't felt it.
"You look tired," she said, stepping closer, her voice careful. "Wind's picking up. Come back with me?"
"Yeah," I rasped, dazed. "Let's go back."
She nodded, her eyes locked on mine. "Put the knife down, Darren. Let's walk back together."
I looked again, saw the blood, the steel, and flung it away, the clatter jarring me awake. She closed the distance, wrapping her arms around me, her heat sinking into my bones. I held her back, clumsy, desperate, pressing my lips to her hair, inhaling her scent like it could drown out the voice.
But as we stood there, tangled in each other, the voice in my mind whispered again, cold and final -
"Tonight. Kill her."
Fear clawed up my spine, sharp and real, but I clung to Leah tighter. I couldn't tell her - couldn't face it.
It was my dead brother's voice.
It was Lester's voice.