Unlawful Shadows | +18

Chapter 30

Third Person POV

The house felt like a tomb, silent except for the heavy breathing of three men each lost in their torment. The air was thick with the aftermath of their rage, their words of anger and cruelty echoing in their minds. Each brother grappled with the weight of his guilt, but none more so than Lysander. Drawn by a pull he couldn't ignore, he found himself at Elowen's door, the dread clawing at his insides growing with each step.

Pushing the door open, the sight that greeted him was worse than any nightmare. Elowen lay motionless, her skin flushed with fever, her breaths shallow and labored. Panic surged through him, and he called out with a voice that was raw and desperate.

"Zephyr! Zander! Get in here, now!"

The urgency in his voice brought his brothers running. Zander was first, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of Elowen. Zephyr followed, his usual calm shattered as he took in the scene.

"Fuck, what happened to her?" Zander's voice was a low growl, barely controlled.

Lysander was already at her side, his hands shaking as he touched her forehead. "She's burning up," he said, his voice breaking with fear. "We did this to her."

Zephyr shoved past them, his demeanor cold and commanding. "Lysander, get cold compresses and medicine. Zander, stay with her. We need to bring her fever down."

Zander nodded numbly, taking Elowen's hand in his own, his grip tight. Lysander hurried out, his mind racing with regret and fear.

But Zander couldn't stay still. The guilt was suffocating him. He stormed out of the room, his steps heavy with self-loathing. The living room became his outlet. He grabbed a lamp and smashed it against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the house. But that wasn't enough. He ripped books from the shelves, their pages flying like wounded birds. The coffee table met his rage next, splintering under his fists. The once orderly room became a chaos of broken furniture and shattered glass.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Zander screamed, his voice raw and hoarse. "Why the fuck did we do this to her? We're fucking monsters!"

Zephyr found him in the midst of his destruction, his heart breaking at the sight of his brother in such agony. "Zander, get it together. She needs us right now."

Zander looked up, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. "We fucking failed her, Zephyr. We should have protected her, not fucking hurt her."

"We did fail her," Zephyr agreed, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "But wrecking shit isn't going to help her. We need to focus."

Zander took a deep breath, his hands trembling. He followed Zephyr back to Elowen's room, where Lysander was applying a cold compress to her forehead, his face a mask of determination.

But Lysander's guilt was no less consuming. Once he ensured Elowen was as comfortable as he could make her, he left the room, his legs carrying him to the makeshift gym in the basement. He needed an outlet, something to channel the storm of emotions raging inside him.

He wrapped his hands in tape, though it was more habit than necessity. The punching bag hung there, an innocent bystander to his fury. He started with a few hard punches, but soon his strikes became wild and unrestrained. His knuckles split open, blood seeping through the tape, but he didn't stop. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the emotional torment.

"How could we do that to her?" he muttered between gritted teeth. "What kind of men are we?"

His strikes grew weaker, his vision blurring as exhaustion set in. But he kept going, the self-inflicted punishment feeling like a small penance for the pain they had caused Elowen. Finally, his body could take no more. He collapsed against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hands a bloody mess.

Upstairs, Zephyr paced the hallway. His heart ached for Elowen, but seeing his brothers self-destruct was tearing him apart. He had always been their protector, from the time they were kids. Their childhood had been far from easy. Their father was a hard man, unforgiving and often cruel. Zephyr had taken the brunt of it, shielding Lysander and Zander as best as he could.

He remembered nights spent holding them close, promising them that things would get better, that he would always be there for them. The weight of that promise bore down on him now. He couldn't stand to see them like this, consumed by guilt and anger.

Zephyr's mind flashed back to those early years, to the times he had fought off their father's drunken rages, taking blows meant for his younger brothers. He had been their rock, their protector. But now, as he looked at the broken men they had become, he felt like he had failed them.

Lysander's state was a stark reminder of those dark times. Zephyr found him in the basement, slumped against the punching bag, his knuckles raw and bleeding. "Lysander," he said softly, kneeling beside him. "You can't do this to yourself."

Lysander looked up, his eyes filled with pain. "We hurt her, Zephyr. We fucking destroyed her. How can I live with that?"

"We're going to make it right," Zephyr said, his voice firm. "But not by destroying ourselves. She needs us to be strong, for her and for each other."

He helped Lysander to his feet, supporting his weight as they made their way back upstairs. The sight of Zander's destruction in the living room made Zephyr's heart ache even more. The house felt like it was falling apart, mirroring the state of its inhabitants.

"Zander, Lysander, we need to pull it together," Zephyr said, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. "Elowen needs us. We can't fall apart now."

Zander looked up from the mess he had made, his eyes hollow. "How do we fix this, Zephyr? How do we make her believe that we love her?"

"We start by being there for her, by showing her that we're not the monsters we acted like," Zephyr replied. "We have to earn her trust back, step by step. It won't be easy, but we owe it to her."

As they re-entered Elowen's room, the sight of her frail form hit them all over again. Zephyr took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. He was the oldest, the one who had always taken care of his brothers. Now, he had to take care of all of them, including Elowen.

The night dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Zephyr sat by Elowen's side, holding her hand and whispering words of comfort. He promised her that they would make things right, that they would never hurt her again. His words were as much for himself as they were for her.

Lysander and Zander took turns watching over her, their guilt a constant presence. They couldn't undo the past, but they could fight for a better future. As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, they vowed to do just that.

Zephyr looked at his brothers, seeing the resolve in their eyes. "We'll make this right. Together."

The guilt was still there, but so was their bond. Stronger now, forged in the fires of their shared regret and their commitment to change. They would be better for Elowen. They had to be.