Hunt

epilogue

There was no body.

"She's alive," Vernon said forcefully, the words escaping like a hiss of air through his teeth. He slammed down the reports on the table Taeyong was sitting at, but the redhead didn't flinch. "She's alive and she's out there, I know it."

"Did the test results come back?" Taeyong asked in a dry tone instead of acknowledging the boy's words, not looking up from the tabletop. The two were alone in the room, and despite the outburst, no one came running in. "From the lab?"

A muscle jumped in Vernon's jaw. "She's alive."

"So they came back." Taeyong reached for the papers in Vernon's hands, but the brunet pulled back, his fist clenching more tightly around the sheets, knuckles whitening from the effort. "What did they say?" When Vernon didn't answer, Taeyong rose a little from his seat and looked up, eyes as flat as a shark's. "Vernon, what did the results say?"

"It's her blood," the brunet answered quietly.

Taeyong sat back down on the chair—collapsed would be a better word. He had never felt so full and empty of emotion at the same time—it was all there, the anger and the grief and the devastation, but it was all brimming under the surface, like it had been choked with a plastic sheet it couldn't tear through. "The blood on the pavements was hers," he said. "All of it. All that blood, all of it was hers?"

Vernon was silent for a moment before grudgingly answering, "Yes."

"So all the blood on the road was hers," Taeyong said quietly. "That, and the pints she must have lost from the whipping and the gunshot before falling from a twenty-story building, and you still think she's alive?"

"I know she is." Vernon's tone was adamant to a person who didn't know him, but Taeyong saw through it, to the desperation and utter anguish of a person hanging on to a belief that gave them life. "You saw it yourself—there was no body. No body. So unless some sick fuck removed it—"

"I've never heard you swear before," Taeyong said simply, getting up. The chair screeched against the floor as it was pushed away, a sound that sounded a lot like a wail. "You know, I used to think that I'd be the one who broke down if she died," he said, passing a tired hand over his face. "That you were the more stable one, that you'd hold both of us together. But look at you now." He smiled without mirth. "Look at both of us."

Vernon straightened, following suit. His face was drawn, lacking color except for the deadened blaze in his eyes, like wildfire catching on dry timber. "You thought about her dying?"

Taeyong looked up. "And you didn't?"

"That's not the point." Vernon moved from the side of the table towards him slowly, his fingers trailing the surface for support. "There was no body."

"Probably because the clan cleaned it up as evidence."

"She could have survived the blood loss if she'd gotten to a hospital in time."

"None of the hospitals in or around the city have any new check-ins during the last six hours."

"No one saw her fall."

"Because no one was there, damnit!" Taeyong's voice rose to a yell. He pulled back, teetering as if he'd been hit, and Vernon's face twisted.

"Or you just don't want to believe she survived because it's all so convenient," the man snarled. "Because she killed your brother, and you don't want to believe she's alive—"

Taeyong started forward and grabbed the front of his shirt, fisting it as he pulled his lips back into a snarl. "The only reason I'm letting you say any of this is because I know you're not in your senses right now," he growled. Vernon glared into his eyes, but spoke nothing, jaw working from the effort it took to be silent. "Of course I want her alive. I believe she's still out there too, but I don't want to—because what if she's not?"

Vernon's steady gaze wavered. "I don't want to fall apart like you," Taeyong whispered, bring his face closer to amplify his voice despite the dead silence. "Because I'm the only one holding both of us together. The only thing worse than holding on to hope is holding on to a hope that might turn out to be false."

Vernon's face was tight with pain, but Taeyong didn't relent. "Both of us can't break down at once, you know that, right?" he asked. "One of us has to hold on to keep the other up, and I don't want to keep on chasing a dead end. I don't believe she'd dead, but I want to. I want to, because I need something solid to hold on to and neither you nor she can give me that."

The first tear rolled down his cheek, and that was the end of it. Vernon's forehead hit his, and the brunet cried out, half collapsing against Taeyong. Neither of them had gotten a wink of sleep since the incident at the rooftop, and though they had managed to get to safety after Vernon had started out with his killing spree on the Lees, they were both exhausted. This wasn't a result of physical fatigue, though, oh no. Taeyong knew that, which was why he held on to Vernon as he cried against him, the sobs cutting through the air like sirens wailing.

Taeyong wasn't sure he could hold on long enough for them to be okay—if they ever could—but he couldn't not try. He tried to repress his emotions as Vernon lived them, be the one with his head screwed on right for once. All he could do was look at the facts, and the facts were this:

There was no body.