Page 31
“Yeah, you know the way.”
When he disappears, the energy settles. What’s left is the low hum of the vent, the faint scrape of sheets when my father shifts, and the rattle of his heavy breathing.
I move to the bed and lift the water glass to his lips when he coughs. He drinks a little. Most of it spills down his chin, and I wipe it away with my sleeve.
“You don’t have to keep going through this,” I tell him. “Just let go.”
As much as it would pain me to witness, it would be a mercy.
His voice scrapes like sandpaper. “You know why I can’t.”
I’m aware of what comes next, but there’s no stopping him.
“I need to know you’ll continue the legacy.”
Legacy. The chain around all our throats.
I set the glass down before I can throw it at the wall.
“Why me? I never wanted this. Tell Reese to do it. He actually gives a damn.”
Dad’s hand shoots out and clamps over mine with startling strength. His blue eyes, so like mine, blaze with the fire of the man he used to be.
“You’re the eldest,” he says. “My firstborn. When Grandpa Elias first held you, he knew everything he had built would survive another generation. Just like it did with me. The eldest bears the burden of responsibility. In the family and in the Order.”
His grip tightens.
I stare at him and every generation before me closes in. Elias. Grandpa Wallace. My father. All of them pressing me into shape, as if my life is nothing but a mold waiting to be filled.
I am more than the fourth version of a Crotavere man.
Something in my face must give me away, because his expression hardens with desperate resolve.
“Carve your own path, Edwin. Give yourself a purpose. The Order has stayed the same for too long. You can lead it into the future. Don’t let anyone take that from the Crotavere name.”
Another coughing fit takes over. I lift the glass again, but he turns away from it.
“Promise me, son.”
He’s fading, and all I want is for him to stop dragging himself through this misery. Stop making me watch it. Stop making me be part of his decay.
Die already. Leave me.
But the universe has always enjoyed cruelty, and I can’t deny him now, not when death is already standing in the room.
“Okay,” I say.
The lie slips out smoothly. It should have ended there. But when his grip tightens and that old blue fire flashes in his eyes, the burden takes hold.
“I promise.”
The words leave my mouth and lock around me. A shackle accepting its chain.
His body eases back into the mattress. His shoulders loosen. The fear in his face softens into relief, and I hate him for that. He lets go of one terror only so he can hand it to me.
Then his gaze drifts to the foot of the bed.
“Vanessa, my love…” he whispers.
