Wake of the Dead | Three

Chapter Twenty-three | Killian & Jasper

Killian swallowed hard, chills running up his spine. The way Stephan spoke to The Mistress was an open challenge, his black eyes trained on her relentlessly. The Silence members were still recovering from the sudden loss of their groupmate, some were staring at him incredulously, some with withering glares so deadly he wondered if he'd drop dead. He was still holding the gun in his hands, barely able to stop himself from firing by accident with his finger on the trigger and his arms shaking. He stared at Harland's body, the blood across the ground, the damage one bullet had done to that man's throat, the impact nearly ripping apart the whole left side.

As soon as Stephan touched him, Killian fired again when he jumped. This time, nobody had gotten hurt. His ears rang, there were no thoughts in his mind other than the utter horror of what he'd just done. This was the second man he'd killed in the past few weeks, that blood was on his hands. The Swanston Massacre had been different, then it had been clear self defense. But he could have spared that Freebird and fought them off, let them retreat. He could have done something to avoid shooting Harland. He hadn't thought for a single second before ripping the firearm from Stephan's belt and firing blindly. He could have even missed and shot Jasper. What he had done was idiotic, dangerous, and homicidal at worst.

"Calm." Stephan's voice was a soft murmur, uncharacteristically soothing. For a split second Killian wondered. Does he actually care? But quickly reminded himself. No. He doesn't, he's just manipulating you. He slowly trailed his gaze upwards to stare at his captor and another, more frightening thought intruded his mind. I could kill you. Stephan seemed to read his exact thoughts, the crowd was silent, it was as if the whole entire world was holding its breath. Could he kill this man, end the tyrant's life? In one second, he had the ability to free himself, to stop Stephan from hurting anybody ever again.

"Don't leave me waiting, dear Rabbit." Stephan rumbled. His deep voice rippled through his chest, a rasp behind it scraping at his throat. "Are you going to kill me or are you wasting my time? I haven't got all day." Killian stared at his captor, the man who'd abused him, manipulated him, hurt him. One that threatened to do unspeakable things not even the most vicious of Reapers would. But those dark eyes, the brooding expression, the intense stare. It was something he'd grown familiar with over the long months he'd spent with Stephan. Although he knew better at the back of his mind, he couldn't help but remember the times this man had saved him on several occasions.

When the Reapers taunted and threatened him, Stephan had silenced them. When he was hungry, he'd given him food. When he was cold, he'd given him more pelts to sleep with. If he behaved especially well one day, he'd begrudgingly offer words of praise. Then he remembered that comforting gesture after his argument with Lennox, how delicate those deadly hands were. So he hesitated. That was enough of a signal for Stephan to set his hand over the deadly weapon and lower it to point at the ground.

Killian stared down as well, avoiding eye contact. The dread creeping up on him was overwhelming, the world spun beneath his feet. Why? He hurt me so many times. Why can't I kill him? He bit the inside of his cheek. Father was right, about everything. I'm a coward. I've nothing to offer anyone, I'm not strong enough to even keep myself safe. He flinched when Stephan reached out to run his fingers through his curls. And now I've been manipulated into caring, I'm an idiot. An idiot!

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Jasper watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as Killian allowed Stephan to take the gun back, set the safety back into place and return it to its place at his belt. Oh, my love. He thought. I've been there too. He casted a sidelong glance in Luke's direction, then quickly looked away. His heart felt as if it had been shredded when his gaze met Killian's. In that moment he felt nothing but an indescribable, emotional agony. There was sorrow and pain in his partner's eyes, terror. But above all, it was apologetic. No matter how hurt he was, it would be hypocritical to blame him. He'd been in that same exact situation, when his life was on the line. He'd had the choice to kill Luke or possibly be slaughtered and he couldn't choose.