Alter Arlo

by Nordika Night

His name was used as the heaviest threat, a curse, a way to make the children behave and in the silent nights when some poor fucker was under his care, you could hear it whispered in the wind as a silent prayer for mercy. Mercy never came.

Zade held up a pack of cigarettes, only one was missing. He opened it, and on the inside flap, there was a message. ‘Call me, maybe.’ “He left this for you.”

Cadoc might run the weapons game around here, but intimidation, fear and creating havoc were my specialties.

I was alive because Cadoc saved my life when I didn’t want him to, and I stayed alive because anger was all I knew.

We were living on borrowed time, which was why I didn’t put much stock in my survival.

The north forest. Drunk or high. Crying. Yeah, I knew how my night was going to go.

Zade might hate me because his skewed deception of what really happened made him believe I played a part in his brother’s death. And maybe to some degree, that was true. Not by choice. I’d give everything I had to go back and change that day. But I hated him because he looked exactly like Zander Enge. The only person I’d ever loved. Seeing him hurt. Seeing him scarred. Seeing him broke the already broken bits that were all that was left of me.

“What do you do for Dante that is so fucking special that he gives you all these perks despite how hard you are to accommodate?” “I have a skill set that he requires.”

Anger burned me up. One of these days, I’d get my revenge on Cadoc, make him pay for convincing my brother to kill our dad. It was Cadoc who got my brother killed, and nothing would ever change my mind of that.

“You’re bleeding. Please, back away.” “I’ve got nothing to fucking live for, Finnegan. Tell me the fucking truth.”

Arlo Thorne was a monster. And he was the worst kind of monster because he didn’t understand that he was one.

We were both sick over the same situation, both grieving a person who reluctantly joined us together, even if the only thing tying us was Zander’s memory and our hatred. It was something. It was a tether we despised holding onto but gripped tighter anyway.

“I hate that you fucked him,” Zade finally said. “I hate that you fucked him so good that he wrote this.” A smug smile wanted to cross my lips, but grief chased it away. “I hate that he died instead of you.” Fuck, I’m a piece of shit. “Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. “I hate that you let him.”

“Who are you, and what the fuck do you want with me?” I took another drink, turning back to look at the water. “Keiran, and everything.” Keiran. Everything. “I have nothing to give.”

Fuck, he was creepy. A savagely beautiful nightmare come to life.

“I see him but do not know him. I feel him but cannot touch him. I follow him but cannot catch him.”

“I am chained to freedom.” “Isn’t freedom supposed to be a good thing?” “Not when you want to belong to someone.” “Who do you want to belong to?” “Nothing.” Me. I was nothing.

“Why the paint?” “It’s who I am.” “And who are you?” “Keiran. Who are you?” “Cadoc.”

Something was coming. Red River had Keiran, Genesis had Arlo, and Pike Valley was ripping us all apart because of the missing girl.

Arlo was evil, and he was casual as fuck about it.

“He made a formula that was slowly added to the water filtration system in Genesis. Everyone in the community has been dosed in varying increments over the past two years, building their immunity and their resilience to illness. It’s why no one ever gets sick from there!”

I told myself I truly didn’t give a shit if Cadoc lived or died, but here I was, telling him to be careful like I cared. Maybe I only cared because he was the last living tie to my brother.

It’d been two and a half years since Zan died, but Cadoc had never done anything more than attempt to fuck someone else. He tried to hide it, but I knew it caused him panic attacks. We didn’t talk about that shit. Ever. Pretended it didn’t exist.

“You look like him when you worry.” Fucking prick. “Fuck you, Cadoc.” I turned my back and didn’t turn around when I heard him laugh, light a smoke, and start his dirt bike.

Me? I just simmered in whatever was wrong with me since birth, festering in anger that I couldn’t place, and noticing my insides burning away but not being able to do anything about it.

“When we first commandeered Genesis, I raided every pharmacy in the city. I have years’ worth of a supply of medication that helps manage my epileptic disorder, but sometimes, I still fall into a fit. Sometimes they cause blackouts and self-injury.”

“Your first aid supplies are impressive. Probably needed when you ride around on that devil machine in the dark of night with no lights.”

himself. “I am…uncomfortable off the ground floor, but I am more uncomfortable in a strange room.” He looked at me, but I wasn’t picking up what he was getting at. “This room is no longer strange.”

“Dante is my brother,” Finn said into the darkness. “What?” I gasped. “Yes. He’s seven years older than me, but we’re blood-related through our father.”

“Because you told me you have nothing to lose and nothing to live for,” Finn said. “But I know that’s a lie. You live for Cadoc.” “Out of spite. What does that have to do with anything?” “Because I see your ability to hate and be loyal, regardless. It…I trust you because of it.”

When Finn’s arm dropped between our bodies and his skin brushed mine, he didn’t move it. Maybe because I’d been so starved for contact for so long, but neither did I.

“Oh,” Dante gasped, surprised, but not concerned. “Uh, I believe you’ve met Keiran?”

A creepy giggle came from the tunnel. “He’s…my man. He’s planted in Red River.”

“If he kills me, I’m coming back to haunt you.” “That’s fair.”

“Are you shitting me? You made me come down here for nothing? I fucking stink, I’m covered in shit, and my feet will never be the same after this, you prick.” Keiran’s only response was a wide-tooth smile that cracked his paint. “Why?” “To be near you.” That evoked a feeling I wasn’t ready to accept. “Where does it lead?”

“That’s why I like stage paint. I built a backstory for my character, and everyone believed it because I’m a good actor. Like I said, I took a class.”

“Cages scare me.” “Why?” I looked at the carcasses, wondering why the hell we were here. “I think I was in one once.” He clucked his tongue again. “When I stand in one, it feels familiar.” Shit, that was dark.

“How the hell do you watch me sleep? My room is on the fifteenth floor with no opening window.” “Ventsss.” “Why? Why me?” I’d asked this before, but fuck, getting an answer that made sense out of Keiran was almost as impossible as having a civil conversation with Zade. “I picked you.”

“You can’t chase pleasure when pain is in your way.”

“What do you know of pain?” “Want me to show you?”

I wore my skin like a shield, and Keiran pierced through it with eyes that were hidden in black paint.

My fist loosened into a tight grip on the railing when he shoved his hand down my pants and grabbed my cock.

He was the first man to touch me since Zander, and fuck, that hurt. It felt disloyal, like erasing his memory and covering the reminder of his touch. Guilt hurt worse than pain.

The orgasm hit painfully, rocking my foundations, bringing sorrowful tears to my eyes, filling the Zander-sized gaps in my heart with jagged shapes of Keiran. It was too much.

“Look, I don’t know what’s coming or what’s going on, but if shit goes south, are we…sticking together?” “Do you want to?” “Do you?”

Wherever this life took us, we’d go together because we were two pin-pricked voodoo dolls, tied together, feeling each other’s pain in different places.

There were enough supplies in the box for two, and something tightened in my chest knowing the other pack was for me. Despite how much we hated each other, reality and fate kept us fighting for the other’s life, always inadvertently protecting one another while refusing to admit it.

Arlo Thorne had come back to remind me of my fate. He was the only god I could hope to pray to; he owned me now, body, mind, sanity.

Without my head moving, my eyes circled to the very bottom of my lids, looking down at him naked between my legs, rocking into me in gentle thrusts.

But if Arlo was behind this and we were trying to rescue some captive he had, why hadn’t he killed us? He had a reputation for having no remorse, no feelings, and no moral compass, but he hadn’t killed us when we discovered his little honey hole. It didn’t make sense. Unless we were simply in his way, and he hadn’t had the time to waste on us.

Hmmmmm