THIRTY

The tears were overflowing by the time he was halfway through his sandwich; they streamed down his cheeks in waves. Zach didn’t look up; his shoulders shuddered. Embarrassment burned in his chest, but he couldn’t stop. Every last thing that had burdened his heart poured out through those tears.

He was weak.

He was hungry.

He was exhausted.

He was the son of a criminal.

He could do nothing but swallow the sandwich that was laced with his tears. He couldn’t take everything any more. It was too much, too crushing on his heart, mind, and soul. But did his breakdown have to be here? Now? And in front of him?

Zach finished his sandwich. Hot tears streamed endlessly. His head remained ducked; his clenched hands rested on the countertop. His shoulders shook; the sobs increased; shame intensified.

Something slid into his sight: a box of tissues. Zach jerked his chin to the side, shaking his head. He didn’t trust his voice. The box entered his line of sight again. He shook his head more violently, his shoulders shuddering with each movement.

“Come on, kid, they’re just tissues. You’re a wreck. I haven’t laced them with arsenic, if that’s your worry.”

Zach let out a sobbing half laugh. No. That was the last of his concerns right now. He pulled out a tissue, then another. And another. He went through more than he could count. The tears didn’t end. Nothing stopped. It wouldn’t stop. When was it going to stop?!

Zach sucked in his breath, tensing, as hands clasped his shoulders. With light, yet indomitable force, Hawke maneuvered him to the living room. Zach let him. Those hands gently pushed him down to sit on the sofa. A moment later, the box of tissues were placed in Zach’s limp hands.

If he looked up, what expression would be on the man’s face? Would it be a sneer? A look of pity? Perhaps one of confusion? Each one meant something different and Zach didn’t have the energy nor the courage to decipher them.

Tick. Tick. The clock created a rhythm in his mind. Zach sat there on the sofa, creating a new pile of used tissues at his side. The fridge door opened. It closed. A cabinet snapped open; something rustled inside; it snapped shut.

Only the sound of the clock remained.

Something cool lightly tapped Zach on the cheek. He sucked in his breath, flinching. He glanced up. Hawke held out a glass of lemonade.

Zach accepted it.

It was cool and refreshing, easing the heat in his face. Zach breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and trying to calm down. Something touched his face again, but this time it was freezing. He let out a tiny yelp of shock, jerking his head back and looking up.

The man handed him an ice cream bar. Zach took it, surprised. Hawke’s expression was impassive, not even a glimpse of amusement. The man was neither sneering, nor pitying, nor confused – but an expression of understanding and knowledge lighted his eyes, as if he’d known Zach for years and had seen such episodes before.

“Eat these, too,” said Hawke, dropping two packets of fruit snacks onto Zach’s lap.

Lemonade, ice cream, and fruit snacks?

“What’s this for—”

“Just eat everything,” said Hawke, his mouth lifting upward. “Then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t argue. Hawke sat down in the arm chair with an ice cream bar of his own. Zach hadn’t finished the lemonade, so he downed it quickly and set it onto the coffee table. He set to work on the ice cream bar, quite enjoying the man’s choice of a vanilla chocolate bar with almonds.

Why?

The question burned inside his mind as he ate under the pleasant silence. With each passing moment, the torrent of his emotions began to calm further, until they settled altogether.

He didn’t understand this – this kindness. It was foreign to him. Yet, he knew people usually were pretty decent when a distraught teenager had an emotional breakdown in their living rooms.

Everything Falcon did and everything Hawke did were in a constant dichotomy. It was downright confusing. Zach didn’t understand this man. Humans were complex, yes. Humans did terrible things in the name of something they believed in. People rarely imagined themselves to be the villains in the stories of others. In their own eyes, they were always the heroes.

Who do I trust?

What can I trust?

Zach polished off the ice cream bar, sticking the trash back into its packaging. He wiped his face, blew his nose, and shoved the used tissues inside the packaging. He started on the fruit snacks, noticing a change in his control. His emotions had simmered down. Zach let out a deep, cleansing breath.

The tears were gone now.

In their place was now pure mortification.

I lost it! I actually lost it inside Falcon’s frickin’ kitchen!

Zach internally screamed.

Hawke put his ice cream stick inside the packaging and tossed it onto the coffee table. Zach blinked. Hawke leaned back in his arm chair, crossing his legs.

“Are you on any medication?” asked Hawke.

I’m sorry, what?

Zach shook his head, unsettled by the question.

“So, you’re not diabetic?”

“No,” said Zach with a frown. “Why?”

Hawke sighed. His eyes glanced to the side slightly, a faraway light entering there. For a moment, the man didn’t answer. Zach didn’t push him. He watched, observing the subtle movement in the man’s jaw, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the slow heavy blink of his eyes.

“Abby would be disappointed,” whispered Hawke.

Zach stiffened, his eyes growing wide. A wave of horror flooded through his chest and into his throat, cutting off his air. Before he could retort, before he could say a word, Hawke let out another sigh. There was a light smile on his face.

“She never wanted to pass on something like blood sugar problems onto her kid,” said Hawke, looking back at him. His voice was smooth with reverence. “It always messed with her daily life. She didn’t learn quite how to control it until a bit later, but…”

Zach deflated.

“At first,” whispered Hawke. “She had a few breakdowns that came out of nowhere. Scared the hell outta me, first time I witnessed one.”

Zach let out a breathy laugh.

“After the third one, I figured out the pattern,” said Hawke with a grin. “I started keeping all sorts of candy and fruits snacks on me. If I even saw a hint of a sign she was losing it, I’d force sweets on her. She swore I was trying to make her fat.”

The next soft laugh tasted bittersweet on Zach’s tongue.

“Things got better as she learned how to deal with it,” said Hawke; the light in his eyes faded. “She always disliked the lack of control.”

“What helped?” whispered Zach.

“Well, she liked to overwork herself a lot,” said Hawke, giving him a look. “I suspect that’s where you got it. She’d forget to take care of herself. A hearty meal and a good night’s sleep would always do wonders for her.”

Mom would overwork herself?

“I suppose the real question is: are you doing the same thing?”

Zach swallowed, averting his eyes.

“Have you been getting enough sleep at night? Not staying up late playing video games or watching TV?”

Something twisted inside Zach’s chest. His hands clenched in his lap. He wasn’t a normal teenager. Zach would’ve loved if that was his problem. It was an easy fix.

“All right, what about your eating habits?” asked Hawke. “You kids don’t just eat junk food, do you?”

Was this man purposely being obtuse? If Falcon knew the names of those killed in the hospitals he blew up, then he had to know Units weren’t paid very well.

Junk food?

That was a laugh.

Cheap food made out of terrible ingredients? Yes, absolutely. They were lucky to have Hikaru, though. She always cooked good meals for them, no matter how little they had. Together, they did their best to buy food that was good for them, but they couldn’t always afford everything they needed.

“Look, Zach,” said Hawke, leaning forward in his armchair. He rested his elbows onto his knees. “Your lack of sleep and poor eating habits are going to affect you. It looks like you’ve inherited Abby’s low blood sugar issues, so you’re going to have to take better care of yourself.”

His voice grated the nerves. Every word he said felt like pins pricking his flesh.

“You think it’s that easy, do you?” whispered Zach, fury boiling beneath the surface of his tone. “So simple. Get enough sleep. Eat the right food.”

“Well… it is,” said Hawke, sounding confused.

“It’s not.”

“I don’t—”

“Did you even think for a second,” snarled Zach, “about why maybe I can’t sleep at night? Did you think about it for more than a second? If you’re supposed to know everything, then why don’t you know the reason why I haven’t been eating?”

Hawke’s eyes widened. “Zach,” he murmured, his brows furrowing. “I—”

“It’s you,” hissed Zach. “You’re the reason why I can’t sleep at night. I keep thinking about what you’re going to do next to my city. So, I stop eating. It gets worse. I can’t sleep even more. When I finally do sleep, you’re in my nightmares.”

There was a sharp intake of breath.

“And just so you’re aware, we can’t afford junk food,” snapped Zach. “We can’t afford healthy food either. We do our best with what the government gives us. There’s nothing more we can do.”

He stood up, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” said Zach shortly. “I gotta go.”

“Wait,” said Hawke, putting up his hands and standing as well. “You just got here.”

Zach shook his head. “I need to go home,” he said, his voice wavering. “It’s a school night. I… I—”

“Please, just a little longer,” said Hawke softly.

He looked away; Zach closed his eyes, drawing a hand to his face and dragging it down.

“Why am I even here?” whispered Zach. “Why is this so important to you? Why do you care?”

He looked into the man’s face. Those crystal blue eyes flared with light and power, piercing Zach’s soul.

“You’re our son,” whispered Hawke. “You’re Abby’s son. You are… my son.” There was a long pause. The man’s chest heaved once. “If I’d known… things would’ve been different for you.”

“How?” breathed Zach.

“I would’ve raised you.”

Mixed feelings whirled inside his heart. Life would’ve been very different if that had been the case. For a moment, he couldn’t stop himself from imagining such a possibility, such a path his life could’ve traveled along.

A rock settled into his stomach. If he had lived with this man – perhaps from the age of six – he would’ve been part of the Falcon issue. What would his path have been like? Would he be like this man, stand at his side, and watch hundreds of people die before his very eyes?

“Raised me?” said Zach softly, glancing up at the man. A firm light filled his eyes. “Raised me into what?”

A criminal?

A terrorist?

A murderer?

“Into a man,” whispered Hawke, his words gentle. “One with a constant father in his life.”

Those words echoed in his head.

“You would not have lived the life of an orphan.”

Gilded words.

Yet covered in thorns.

That path had the song of a siren. It sounded nice. It sounded lovely. But the grass on the other side was always greener. That life might’ve been easier, but would Zach have the same morals in his heart? That life might’ve been safer, but he wouldn’t have been the leader of Unit Twelve. That meant he would’ve never met Hikaru.

Or Drake.

Or Sevati.

Or Brielle.

Or Jacob.

An easier, safer life was not worth giving them up.

To be continued

TWENTY-NINE

The scent of sulfur from the industrial side of Templeton Hills was strong tonight. The evening bustled with life. Zach was one with the crowd, another face in a sea of people. He went unnoticed. No one could know the truth.

He tried to take his time. His steps were slow, agonizingly so. But all too soon, Zach was standing in front of the home of Falcon. For a number of minutes, he didn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to lift his foot for one more step – there were only three left.

Zach dropped his face into his hands.

What the hell am I doing?

He put a hand on the railing. It was freezing. He gripped it tighter. Zach walked up the stairs. He lifted a hand to knock, when the door swung open. He sucked in his breath, his heart jumping into his throat. He stumbled a step back; his hand clamped the fabric on his chest. His heart thumped wildly.

Falcon stood in the doorway.

No… Not Falcon.

Hawke.

The man was wearing normal, everyday clothes: dark classic style jeans, a black belt with a silver buckle, and a light blue pinstripe collared shirt with a dark grey suit vest. He was wearing a tie with reminiscent wings from the Falcon suit.

“How did you kn—”

“Cameras.”

Huh. Should’ve known. That made the night before a lot more sense, then. Actually, scratch that: nothing about the night before made sense – absolutely nothing, including the whole ‘I am your biological father’ nonsense, crap, idiocy stuff. Ugh.

A wave of nervousness crashed like a tsunami over his senses.

What were they gonna do? Talk over tea?

“Are you going to stand out in the cold all night or are you going to come inside?” asked Hawke with a light smirk on his lips. He motioned inside. “Come on, it’s freezing.”

He was so welcoming. It was annoying. How dare Hawke have the personality of a teddy bear. He’s Falcon, dammit!

His palms grew damp with sweat. Zach strode inside, trying to maintain the last ounce of his self control. Breathe. Just breathe. The door closed behind him. He could feel the man’s presence at his side. A hand rested onto his shoulder. Zach stiffened.

“Take off your shoes.”

“Right,” murmured Zach.

He rolled his shoulder. The hand withdrew. He stood still, refusing to look up at the man. There was a low exhale of breath. Hawke walked down the hallway and disappeared from sight.

Something strange flooded through Zach’s chest. He rolled his shoulder again, trying to get rid of the lingering feeling. It’d been a nonthreatening touch, casual and gentle. He inhaled deeply. This was bad. That had been too familiar. No adult since his parents had shown him something like that.

Such simple, easy familiarity with adults had long died with them.

Zach pulled his sneakers off, leaving his socks on. He loitered in the hallway, unable to bring himself away from staring at the paintings again. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t face that man.

“Mom,” murmured Zach, gazing at her name. “Tell me what I should do.“

But no answer came.

Instead, her handiwork was all he had of her. His mother had touched these canvases. Abigail had taken paint and had carefully brushed the canvas with her thoughts and imagination. Every stroke had been hers. She had existed. She had lived, loved, and breathed.

Zach had only seen her finish one painting. It was a miracle he still had it in his possession.

It wasn’t right.

Hawke or Falcon – or whoever this man was – he didn’t deserve these paintings.

Were there more?

If so, there wasn’t anything more Zach wanted to do than to see them, to touch them, to feel the long past essence of his mother.

Sorrow loomed over him. Zach gritted his teeth, battling against the torrent of emotions; they threatened to overpower his control. He couldn’t take it any longer. He strode out of the hallway and into the living room. Hawke stood in the kitchen with his back towards Zach.

The last time Zach had been here, he’d been too anxious to notice everything. The décor of the large room was bright and clean. The kitchen had white cabinets, furnished with white appliances: a fridge, a stove, and a microwave. A countertop island separated the kitchen from the small dining set. The flooring was elegant marbled tile.

The three seat sofa was a light brown, with a brown arm chair off to the side. The glass coffee table had a few miscellaneous things on its surface: a couple of magazines, a book or two, and a TV remote. A television set was on a wooden desk.

There was a second hallway, connected to the kitchen – no doubt leading to a bedroom or two. There were a handful more paintings on the wall.

Zach itched to go see them.

“So. Hungry?” asked Hawke, drawing his attention. Zach walked towards the island, coming to a stop on the other side. The man turned around, lifting an eyebrow. Zach crossed his arms in front of his chest, turning his head away. His stomach ached.

“No.”

Another lie.

“Sounds like your stomach has made its case,” said Hawke with a chuckle. “You know I’m not deaf, right?”

Zach stiffened. “Well,” he snapped. “I’d have to be pretty stupid to eat anything from you. You could’ve poisoned it.”

“You know better than anyone that if I really wanted to kill you, you’d be dead,” said Hawke, his tone light. Zach’s jaw clenched. “I haven’t poisoned the food and I haven’t drugged it.”

“Mmm, riiight,” drawled Zach.

“If you don’t believe me, then just wait for me to take a bite,” said Hawke, amused.

The man pulled out ingredients from the fridge. Zach didn’t move, watching intensely. Soon, the island was overflowing with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, sliced deli meat, cheese, mayo, ketchup, and whole wheat bread. With a clink, Hawke placed plates onto the countertop. He waved a hand.

“All right, have at it.”

Huh?

“Come, make your own,” said Hawke, opening the bag of shredded lettuce. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but there should be enough variety here. It’s not a fancy dinner, but nobody can say no to a good sandwich.”

Zach looked at the food; his eyes flicked back towards the man. He didn’t move. Hawke sighed.

“I didn’t poison my own food,” said Hawke in a low voice. He grabbed some bread. “I bought some of this today, if that makes you feel any better.”

He… went grocery shopping? For me?

Hawke went about making his own sandwich. It quickly overflowed with ingredients: a lot of turkey, one slice of cheese, a bucket load of pickles, two slices of tomatoes, some shredded lettuce, and a mixture of mayo and ketchup. Zach winced at the combo.

Huh, who knew. Falcon was an actual human who needed food for sustenance. What, he didn’t need the blood and flesh of the dead to survive? Hah.

It was surreal. The simple act of making a sandwich revealed quite a few things about the man.

“Go on,” said Hawke, taking a large bite out of his massive creation. “It’s not going to make itself.”

With a slight tremor to his hands, Zach made the exact same sandwich, sans the ketchup and pickles. It was the safest route.

Hawke smiled. “We like the same thing,” he said with a grin.

“No, we don’t.”

“Well, almost the same thing.”

“Stop that,” snapped Zach. “Don’t try to find similarities between us. I made the same sandwich simply to avoid being drugged.”

“I told you—”

“Right, because I’m so gullible to believe everything you say is the absolute truth.” Zach rolled his eyes. “Please.”

Hawke clamped his mouth shut. He sighed. With an indistinct mutter, the man took another bite, chewing with a grudging gaze towards the side.

Zach studied his profile.

With those high cheekbones and prominent jaw line, the man’s features had a distinct ageless appearance – perhaps being clean shaven played a part in that. Though Zach didn’t have the same black hair, he had gotten the man’s wavy texture.

Zach frowned.

He could’ve sworn when he’d met Hawke, the man had a bit of greying or white at his roots. Now his hair was all black, not a strand of grey in sight.

Mmmm.

Hawke turned his head, looking at him.

Those crystal blue eyes.

The evidence was more than apparent, even beyond the eyes. The more Zach studied the man’s features, the more the resemblance could be seen. The similarity in the eyebrows and the jawline were uncanny. The way the man’s mouth moved with his expressions reminded Zach of himself. The hints were subtle, but they were there.

He couldn’t deny it any more.

He was the man’s son.

The realization landed on his shoulders, bearing down on him with the weight of a thousand tons. He hadn’t paid much attention yesterday. This was more than letters on a screen. Written in flesh, the evidence was there.

He had never been Michael Bennet’s son.

Zach had never looked like him. Everything he’d known about himself was a lie. A wave of emotion tore through his soul.

Complex genetics, eh?

They were cruel in their simplicity

He took a bite of his sandwich. Saliva built up in Zach’s mouth; his eyes burned and watered. His emotions grew and climaxed.

Lack of sleep and lack of food, these things had torn down his protective barriers. His body and hormones overtook his control. There was no stopping the tears from slipping down his face. He ignored them. He didn’t bother to wipe them away. With trembling hands, he continued to eat.

Yet another tear slipped through his defenses, unwanted and unbidden.

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-EIGHT

He’s getting worse.

Hikaru paced the kitchen, wringing her hands. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen stove. It was fifteen minutes after six. Once they had gotten home from school, Zach had disappeared into the boys’ bedroom and hadn’t resurfaced since.

She chewed on her lower lip before sighing at herself in exasperation. She forced herself to stop.

Something was boiling on the stove, but she barely noticed. She glanced at the bedroom door for the thousandth time that afternoon.

Ugh, I’m sick of myself now! He’s going to be fine. He’s strong.

But he was isolating himself from them, something he had never done before in the past. At this rate… Whatever stress he was under, whatever was going on, it was going to kill him.

Was he this worried about Falcon?

Or was it something more?

“Pasta is going to get soggy if it’s left to boil any longer,” said Sevati, looking up from the kitchen table. “Wasn’t that the timer?”

“What?” asked Hikaru, blinking. She tore her gaze away from the bedroom door and looked at Sevati. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The pasta? It’s done.”

“Oh!” breathed Hikaru.

She hurried to the stove, grabbing some hot pads. She poured the boiling water into a colander, setting the pot back onto the stove. She turned the cold water on, rinsing the pasta. Her mind wandered; she glanced towards the bedroom door yet again.

“He’s going to be fine.”

“What?” said Hikaru, snapping her gaze onto Sevati.

“I said he’s going to be fine,” said Sevati. She shook her head. “You need to stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself at this rate.”

Hikaru sighed, putting a damp hand to her forehead. The cool water felt nice on her skin.

Did the others notice what was going on with him? Zach was unraveling. She had never seen him do that before. No. There had to be something more here than just stress about Falcon. Zach never kept secrets.

And Hikaru knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Zach was keeping secrets now.

“He’s under a lot of stress,” said Sevati in a low voice, her dark eyes filled with an observant light. “He’s keeping a lot to himself.”

“You noticed, then,” whispered Hikaru. She shut off the faucet and turned towards Sevati. The other three were sitting on the couch, watching some lighthearted TV show.

“Hard not to,” said Sevati with a sad smirk. “He’s not the greatest at hiding how he feels.”

No, he’s certainly not.

“He’s the leader,” said Hikaru; her hands gripped each other. Her voice went up a pitch. “We have to trust what he does is good for us as a whole.”

Sevati raised an eyebrow. “That’s unit talk,” she said. “Now what about family?”

Yes…

What about family?

She couldn’t push him – that much was all too clear. Zach was acting strangely; he would pull away. She had to deal with him delicately, like a skittish wild animal. If she pressured him too much… What if that did more harm than good?

“I try to get him to eat,” said Hikaru, drying her hands on a towel. Determination rose in her heart. “It’s time for dinner anyway. I’ll go get him.”

Please don’t push us away, Zach. We’re here for you.

“Whoa, hang on, Hikaru,” said Drake. “Maybe you should leave him alone.”

“Isn’t he taking a nap?”

“With this much noise? “

“He hasn’t come out for hours now,” said Hikaru, her tone firm. “He seemed down again at school. He missed lunch. I don’t remember him eating anything for breakfast. He needs dinner.”

His empty stomach churned.

Their voices filled the room. Zach uncurled his legs from his chest, scooting to the edge of his bed. The room was dark, save for the stream of light pouring through the crack beneath the door.

“You know he hasn’t been sleeping lately,” said Drake in a low voice. “He needs to rest.”

“But he needs to eat, too…” said Jacob, his voice soft and timid. “He’s gonna get sick.”

“And something else is wrong as well,” said Sevati. There was a long pause. “What, you didn’t notice? He’s keeping a lot of stuff from us.”

“Well, duh,” said Brielle.

“I think we all noticed that,” whispered Drake.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

They know something’s wrong.

What am I gonna do?

“Okay, enough, let’s not overwhelm him,” said Hikaru with a long sigh. “He’s got a lot on his plate. We know that. I just want him to eat. That’s all. We’ll figure what’s going on with him later. Food and rest first.”

Zach sighed, closing his eyes and wishing he could crawl back beneath the covers. Hiding for a few years sounded fantastic. With a tired huff, Zach stood up and walked to the door, opening it. He squinted his eyes at the bright light. An assortment of surprised gasps came from his friends.

“Hey,” said Zach, after his eyes adjusted. He folded his arms and lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “You know I can hear you, right?”

Hikaru flushed. The group exchanged glances.

“Well, it’s been a few hours,” said Hikaru, her features lifting in a gentle smile. “It’s time for dinner. I made spaghetti.”

“Thanks,” said Zach softly, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “But I just want to rest some more, all right?”

“But you haven’t eaten all day,” said Hikaru. Her smile couldn’t hide the light of concern in her eyes. “You need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

A lie…

Zach closed the door. His stomach rumbled. With a sigh, he leaned his forehead against the cool surface of the door. He could hear the hushed whispers on the other side, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

I’m sorry, guys.

Give me a little more time.

But he had precious little of it. He checked his phone. He had another hour at least. He had another hour to wait and brood and think and endlessly wait before he had to see that man again.

Ugh.

It was gonna be a long hour.

He sat on his bed, waiting. He couldn’t be around the others right now. He couldn’t bear it. Zach hunched over, hiding his face into his hands.

What’s it gonna be like? I visit and then what? What does he want from me?

‘I just want to get to know… my son.’

What did that even mean? What’re they going to do anyway? How was Falcon expecting to ‘get to know’ his son? Play board games? Zach shuddered at the thought.

I’m overthinking this—everything.

Just go.

It’s time.

Zach stood up and slowly peeked out of the bedroom. It was clear. As best as he could tell, the others were on the couch watching TV. He sneaked out. His footsteps were silent as he walked to the front door. He grabbed his shoes, opened the door, and slipped into the hallway, sitting down on the top of the stairs to put on his shoes.

“Zach.”

Her voice stilled his heart. His fingers froze. He glanced back at Hikaru. She looked down at him, her brow furrowed.

“You’re leaving again,” said Hikaru. Her gaze was piercing. Her mouth parted slightly as she drew in a slow breath. “Is something going on?”

Yes. Absolutely. Perhaps the end of the world. Remember me fondly.

What to say? What to say? What on earth could he say to her? A lie. What kind of lie? Ugh, did he have to lie? This was going to kill Zach before the day was out.

“You won’t… be out late again, will you?” asked Hikaru. Her hands clasped together; they went white.

Zach’s tense body slowly relaxed. “For a few nights a week, I have to be somewhere,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. I could be late.”

“Okay,” said Hikaru, a little breathless. She bit her lip; her expression was filled with longing. She nodded, more a nervous tick than agreement. “Okay, then. You’ll text me after eleven? Just so… you know, we’re not worried.”

“Of course. I promise.”

Zach stood up. A soft hand touched his shoulder, drawing him to turn to her. A tender light filled her eyes. Her other hand slipped into his, fingers intertwining with one another; it was warm with its embrace.

“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” asked Hikaru softly. Her voice was ever so gentle and imploring. Her hand squeezed his; her other hand dropped to her side.

“What?” breathed Zach.

“If something was wrong or if something was bothering you…” whispered Hikaru. “You’d tell me, right? You wouldn’t keep it to yourself because you know you can tell me anything.”

The air was heavy around him; he became lightheaded from lack of air. It was a sweet, honeyed trap of words – but he didn’t fault her for it. He had always told her everything.

So, why couldn’t he now?

Say it.

Tell her.

“Of course,” whispered Zach, the lie gentle and breathy.

Coward.

She smiled brightly. “Oh, good,” Hikaru said, sounding relieved. Her gaze dropped; a faraway light entered her eyes. “I was… worried we weren’t close any more.”

“What?” said Zach, frowning. He lifted their clasped hands, putting his other hand over hers. “Why would you think that? You’re my best friend.”

“You’ve been rather distant,” said Hikaru, her expression crinkling. “Not just with me, but with everyone. And it’s getting worse. You’d never shut yourself away all day before.”

Zach sighed, running a hand through his hair. He tugged on the ends slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low tone. “It’s… been a long few weeks. It’ll get better. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Liar.

“Everything is all right, then?”

“Of course it is,” said Zach with a playful grin. He pulled out of her grasp; the air was cold on his flesh. “Don’t wait up tonight, all right? I’ll see you later.”

He turned away, each step weighing heavier than the last. At the bottom of the stairs, he glanced up. He gave Hikaru a wave of the hand before he went out into the cold night. He rubbed his arms. A fog had descended, the air damp and white, mirroring the haze in his mind and heart.

He was sliding down a mountain, slipping in muddy lies and staining his soul. He was lying like a champ. Someone give him an award.

Zach gritted his teeth.

He didn’t want to do this. He should go back. Go back. Tell her everything. He didn’t want to keep secrets. He missed the peace and clarity that had come with transparency. His raging feelings rushed through his chest, a torrent of confusion, guilt, fear, and longing.

Was this the man’s plan? Throw him into a disarray of confusion and guilt? Falcon had the advantage. This ceasefire would only last until Falcon said so. There was nothing on Zach’s end that he could leverage against him.

‘Time with you.’

Please.

Please.

The man was faking his interest. Once Falcon got bored with trying to ‘get to know his son,’ the country would be in danger once again. More lives would be lost. Zach would have to play the game.

I’ll get more information. I’ll tell them soon. I’ll tell her everything soon. I swear it. Just wait a little longer.

I won’t be swayed.

I need more proof.

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-SEVEN

I’m an idiot.

There was no doubt about it: he was an idiot. He had agreed. He had agreed to visit Falcon. Just because he happened to share blood and genetics with the man, it didn’t mean it wasn’t insane.

He was gonna do it. He was going to visit Falcon, the country’s most feared terrorist. Three times a week. Wasn’t that a laugh?

Ha.

Now what?

What am I supposed to do now?

Zach curled his arms around his chest, keeping his head down. He walked at a brisk pace, trying to get as far away as possible from the man’s apartment. Most of the shops had long been closed, jailed doors protecting their establishments. There were few cars on the streets. The late night was silent; the moon shone brightly.

After he turned a corner, out of sight of the man’s neighborhood, Zach paused and pulled out his phone. He checked the time.

It was after one o’clock in the morning.

Well, crap.

Zach put his face into his hands. The others were going to ask where he’d been. What was he supposed to tell them? How were they going to take this?

His thoughts wouldn’t stop rushing in a whirlwind. What kind of nonsense was this, anyway? Why had Zach allowed himself to be manipulated? This was ridiculous. He replayed the scene over and over again, but he still came to the same ending each time. Zach wasn’t sure what to believe any more, but…

A few things alluded to the truth. Hawke had talked about Abigail, Zach’s mother, with such tenderness there, as if he had truly known and loved her.

And then there were the paintings.

It was a ridiculous charade if they weren’t real. Whether forgeries or stealing them – would Falcon really go to all that effort to lead Zach along? Faking her paintings was a waste of time. Falcon didn’t need to dance around – the man had more than enough power and plenty of blackmail to coerce Zach.

It had to be true.

He really was Sebastian Hawke’s biological son.

So, where to go from here?

Zach leaned against the wall, lightly bouncing his head against the brick. He sighed. He pushed himself off the wall and buried his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie. His eyes burned with tears. The cold air exaggerated the pain.

Michael Bennet wasn’t his real father.

Zach rubbed his eyes. He quickened his stride. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let those thoughts in his mind. But they came anyway. A wave of uncertainty flooded his heart. There were so many questions left unanswered.

And because Michael was dead, there would be no resolution.

He would never know Michael’s truth. Had the man known Zach wasn’t his son? What if he hadn’t known? Michael had treated him like his own son when Zach was just the product of a previous marriage.

He felt like an imposter.

He’s still my Dad. He was a good man. He wouldn’t have cared about that. He loved me. That’s all that mattered.

His thoughts consumed him. Memories of old filled his mind. Voices of the past echoed in his ears. He sought solace in them. He sought answers.

Neither came.

A father ran along side of a little boy, teaching him how to ride a bike. A little boy waited anxiously for a father’s return from work. A father and a mother laughed and danced together while making dinner; a little boy watched in delight. A father played with a little boy; an epic tale of death and hardship with dinosaur toys blossomed between them.

Zach halted; his shoulders hunched over. He clasped a hand over his mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His body shook. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, sobbing uncontrollably. The memories stabbed his mind and heart. Sorrow ached in his muscles; longing tore his soul.

Minutes passed. Zach rubbed the sleeves of his hoodie against his eyes. It took him a few minutes longer to calm down. He pulled the hoodie over his head. He kept his head bowed, staring at his steps as GPS led him home.

The walk back wasn’t long. He hurried along the path to the door of their apartment. He shut the door behind himself, letting out a long exhale and rubbing his hands over his arms. The chill of the night was still deep within his flesh. He took each step up the stairs as silently as possible. At the top, he unlocked the door and walked inside the dark apartment. He shut it behind himself with a small click.

As Zach walked into the room, he paused. Hikaru was asleep in the desk chair, slumped to the side. Her weight rested against the wall. She shifted at the sound of the door, sitting up. There was a sharp intake of breath.

“Zach… Oh, thank goodness,” whispered Hikaru, bolting up and rushing to him. She threw her arms around his neck. “I was so worried. You were gone for hours. Did something happen? Did you get lost? Why did you stay out so late?” She let out a relieved sigh; her hands tightened around him. “I’m so glad you’re okay…”

Zach patted her on the back. His mouth went dry. What do I tell her? “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I lost track of time.”

She pulled back and gave him a squinty look. “Really? You? You lost track of time?”

Well, she had a point.

“I’m sorry,” said Zach with a weak smile.

“Well, you’re okay. That’s all that matters,” whispered Hikaru. “I sent the others to bed an hour ago. They might still be awake, but…” She gave him a look. Zach sighed.

“I’ll apologize in the morning.”

Hikaru smiled, giving him an approving nod. “I think they’d appreciate that.” She patted him on the arm. “Well, good night.”

“Night,” whispered Zach with a wave of the hand.

Hikaru slipped inside the girls’ bedroom. Zach did the same. The boys’ bedroom was silent, with only the deep breathing from Jacob and the occasional snore from Drake. Zach got into bed without changing and curled under the covers. He turned onto his side, looking up at the painting on his wall.

Mom, I need some answers.

I have too many questions. I don’t understand. Am I supposed to believe what he says about you? Why’d you pick him? How did you meet? He couldn’t have been a criminal then… Right? Why did you like him? I guess… I guess he’s good looking.

Really, Mom?

But… could physical attraction truly negate all reasoning?

No.

Abigail had not been like that. His mother had been vibrant and amazing. She couldn’t have been shallow. No, Zach couldn’t believe she’d love Hawke if she didn’t have a good reason. She had been kind, a woman of strength. Zach couldn’t remember a time when he had heard her badmouth someone.

Mom, Dad… I wish you were here. You’d know what to do.

Zach fell asleep to old memories, his tears soaking his pillow.

Early next morning before school, Zach was seated on the desk chair, trying to look as contrite and meek as possible. The other five were gathered around him, giving him varying degrees of stern looks.

They were being so adorable.

Sevati stood still as a rock, her jaw clenched and her brows furrowed; her expression was borderline irritated and impassive. Drake kept rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Jacob’s eyes were wide with concern, glancing between the others. Hikaru had a hand over her mouth, but the twinkle in her eyes gave away her mild amusement.

And Brielle, well… she was downright pissed.

“Where were you?” demanded Brielle. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. Her foot tapped on the floor. Her chest puffed up. “Do you have any idea how worried we were!”

Zach didn’t answer. He made the right choice.

“You didn’t eat lunch. You barely touched your dinner!” continued Brielle, her rant going strong. She listed every sin one finger at a time. “You haven’t slept, Drake says. You’re exhausted. You’re stressed. And you’re gone for over five hours?! Are you crazy? You’d be so pissed at me if I did something like that. And all you have to say is, ‘I’m sorry’?! What?! No! That’s not good enough!”

Sevati opened her notebook and penned something in it. She ripped out the page. In big bold letters, pointing an arrow towards Brielle, the word ‘THIS‘ was written.

Zach sucked on his lower lip in the desperate attempt to stop a snorting chuckle. If he laughed… oh, boy…

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

“We all went to bed wondering if you were going to make it home,” said Sevati, lowering the paper. “It wasn’t fair to cause us so much concern for your wellbeing. You need to take better care of yourself.”

Jacob nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “What they said.”

“I agree with the girls,” said Drake, taking a deep breath and folding his arms. “You made us frantic with worry. You suck.”

Zach couldn’t stop the laugh that broke through his lips. He clapped his hands over his mouth. Brielle puffed up, wounded fury erupting through her features.

“He thinks this is funny!” cried Brielle, throwing her hands into the air. “I can’t even—I can’t!“

“No, I’m not laughing at you guys,” said Zach quickly. He put on a pout, trying to look repentant again. “I’m not laughing at you. I understand. I will try my very best not to make you guys worry again. I’m serious.”

Brielle narrowed her eyes.

“You’re just really cute, Bri,” said Zach with a smile. “And sweet. You all are. But thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re missing the point!“

“All right, I think you’ve scolded him enough,” said Hikaru, a mild laugh in her tone. “He understands. You better get ready for school. Quickly now.”

They all nodded. With two fingers, Brielle pointed them at her eyes and then at Zach, repeating the gesture two more times, a stern look on her face. Zach’s lips trembled. He put up a pair of placating hands, but her glare didn’t lessen.

With the others going about their morning to get ready, Zach stood up. I have to go again tonight. His stomach twisted.

Should I tell her?

“You’re sure you’re okay?” asked Hikaru, looking back at him.

His heart faltered. He gave her a tense smile. “Yeah, I’m good,” Zach said. “I’m fine.”

I can’t… not with the others around.

Where would I begin anyway?

“All right,” said Hikaru with a bright smile. She turned away. Zach watched as she went into the kitchen. She pulled out a few pans, some eggs, and some rolled oats, going to work on making everyone breakfast.

Maybe staying silent was foolish. He’d have to come up with an answer, sooner or later. They’d find out eventually, whether he told them or not.

They’d find out the truth.

The truth…

How could he put into words about what had happened last night? How could he tell them his feelings? How could he describe all the horror, all the pain, all the sorrow, all the betrayal upon learning his father was someone else – and a criminal no less?

He could barely process it all himself.

And what exactly would he say anyway?

‘So… yeah… I got blackmailed by Falcon and coerced into going to his apartment. Turns out he’s a decent guy who knew my Mom. Like, knew her knew her. Falcon’s my biological father.’

Lovely.

Now to figure out how to slip that into an everyday conversation. How simple.

A thought crossed his mind, a sinister, illogical one. What if his friends looked at him differently? What if they stopped trusting him? What if? It was a ridiculous fear. Zach knew it. He knew it.

I’m the son of a criminal.

Zach ran a hand over his face.

Damn it.

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-SIX

No. I can’t. I won’t. I refuse.

It was too confusing. How could he make such a choice right now? This all could be lies. It could be the truth. But he couldn’t tell the difference between the lie and the truth.

What do I do?

I need help. I wish I had someone to help me.

I can’t do this alone any more.

“No, I’m not,” whispered Zach. His voice rose with each word, until he was at shouting level. “I’m not curious. It doesn’t matter what you say. You abandoned your family years ago. You can’t fix that. You’re too late!“

An injured light flashed through the man’s eyes. It’s an act. Don’t believe it. It’s a fricking act!

“Why would I want to know anything about you?” snarled Zach. “You’re a murdering psychopath, a criminal. Can we just take a moment to remember that you’ve killed hundreds of people?” Zach paused, raising an eyebrow at the man. Hawke remained impassive. “If you care so much, then you’ll let me capture you and have you arrested for your crimes.”

Hawke snorted. A wry smile lifted his features. “Now that,” he drawled, “I can’t agree to, kid. Sorry. I have work to do.”

“What, not enough blood on your hands?” snapped Zach.

The man’s eyes narrowed. He took a step closer, those crystal blue eyes burning with a dark light. Hawke straightened, bearing over him. Zach’s breath stole away; fear clenched his heart. He refused to back down, though. He stared at him with all of the hatred that could have withered a plant.

Falcon.

“If there is blood on my hands,” whispered Hawke, “then, there is carnage on their hands.”

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The rhythm of the clock broke the silence. While Hawke wasn’t a huge man, he was still a number of inches taller than Zach; his presence dominated over him. Pain and agony bled within the man’s tone.

No matter what, it doesn’t make it right.

Zach gritted his teeth. “One wrong will never justify another.”

There was a long sigh, the man’s body sagging; the tension disappeared. The sinister aura faded. Hawke glanced away, a pensive expression on his features.

“A deal, then,” whispered Hawke. Determination filled his voice. His gaze was powerful. “Let’s make a deal. An arrangement of sorts. You agree to come visit me three times a week—”

“What—no!” cried Zach in horror, interrupting the man. “No way. That is not happening.”

“Would you let me finish, kid?” snapped Hawke, his mouth twitched in annoyed amusement. He let out a low huff. Zach crossed his arms in front of his chest. “If you visit three times a week, Falcon will disappear. I’ll go off the grid.”

“What does that mean?” asked Zach, narrowing his eyes. “Explain it. No tricks. What do you mean Falcon will disappear, go off the grid?”

“It means no more attacks,” said Hawke in a soft tone. “No more explosions. No more attacks. No more deaths. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Done. Falcon will be finished.”

Zach stared at the man.

He laughed.

And laughed.

What a joke. What a hilarious and ridiculous joke.

He couldn’t stop laughing. Tears burned the edges of his eyes. His chest ached. What a liar. This man was good. He’d give him that. But this was too much.

The laughter died. The tears did not.

“I’m leaving,” said Zach flatly. He strode past the man. A hand on his shoulder stopped him. Zach whirled around, jerking away from the touch. He glared. “Don’t. You don’t touch me. Got it?“

Hawke lifted his hands in a placating gesture. They dropped to his sides. “Why?” he asked. “I just offered you what you wanted. Don’t you want Falcon to stop? For three visits a week, you could stop him.”

It echoed in his head.

‘You could stop him.’

No. Not like this.

It’s not good enough. I need to hand you on a silver platter to Sullivan. Then, my friends and I can stay together. Disappearing isn’t good enough.

“You really expect me to believe you’ll keep up your end of the bargain?” asked Zach, derision dripping through his tone. “You lie to the police. Why wouldn’t you lie to me? What do you gain from this?”

“Time,” whispered Hawke. “With you.”

Zach looked away.

Yeah, right.

Would he really abandon his persona, his goals for a few evenings with Zach? These attacks had been going on for years. This man had a vendetta against something or someone – a strong one. Zach couldn’t believe he’d give up years of his goals for something so small in return. Time with a sixteen year old boy – regardless or not he was the man’s son – was not an equal exchange.

Zach wasn’t so easily swayed by nice words. Falcon’s plans were obviously very important to him – whatever twisted plans they were. A man like that wouldn’t suddenly give up everything simply because he learned he had a son.

Believe or not to believe.

Trust or not to trust.

He had to admit, though… This was an interesting offer. In a perfect world, the agreement would be set in stone. Unbreakable. Neither side would go back on their word. But this wasn’t a perfect world. Besides a few stories – real or otherwise – there wasn’t anything enticing about this to Zach.

Ugh, this was insanity – the epitome of utter insanity.

“Well, I don’t have anything to gain from this little arrangement,” said Zach in a low tone. “I’m not motivated by time with you.” He drew in a deep breath and lifted his chin. “I need more than your weak reassurance that you’re going to quit being a criminal.”

“You’re just going to have to trust me.”

Zach snorted, letting out a soft laugh. Trust. Right. Hilarious. The amusement died. He turned to the side, his arms tight against his chest.

“Well? Do we have a deal?”

Zach didn’t respond. His breath quickened. His chest rose and fell. Stars blinked in his vision; he felt lightheaded.

How?

I can’t.

I–I really can’t. Not now. Time. Need to think. Pressure. Too much pressure. Seriously, too much.

The pressure built inside his lungs, cutting off his breathing. His mind raced. Fear overpowered every sense. Zach whirled around, slamming his hands onto the countertop as he doubled over. With practiced familiarity, he slowed his breathing, focusing on each breath. Any thought crossing his mind was redirected to his breath.

In.

Out.

His chest rose slowly.

It fell with ease.

“Zach?” asked Hawke, sounding hesitant. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

In.

Out.

Get it together. You’ve survived so far. You can survive this. I can do this. Think. Think. Think. What do you want? What can I learn?

What were all of Falcon’s motives? What were the possible angles? How would Falcon turn on him? What was he expecting of Zach? Focus. Figure it out. There had to be more here than a lonely man looking to reconnect with his son.

I…

I can’t.

I can’t do this.

Zach lifted away from the counter, turning around. He took a steadying breath, ignoring the confusion in Hawke’s face. He strode towards the hallway; he didn’t look back. The man followed him. Zach paused at the hallway, looking at the front door. Hesitation burned his heart. His breathing quickened once again.

No. Stop it. Just leave!

“Is this a no?” asked Hawke from behind him. His voice was soft, a brush of disappointment in his tone. “Are you truly going to leave without saying anything? You really want nothing to do with me?”

Zach’s jaw tightened. His fists clenched at his sides.

I don’t know what I want, all right!

I don’t know.

What did this man expect? This was nuts; this was ridiculous; this was unfair!

Zach dropped his face into his hands.

I don’t know.

I don’t know what I want. I need an answer.

He dragged his hands over his face. He looked up. In desperation, he glanced at the wall, trying to give his mind a moment of peace. His eyes caught the bright colors of the nearest painting. The brushstrokes were bold and confident, yet they were gentle in the details. It was similar to the other paintings in the hallway, but it still stood unique among them.

The greens were rich, blending together in a beautiful meadow. Small jots of the brush gave the illusion of yellow, pink, and blue flowers. The sky above was a bright blue with straying clouds. Trees were faint in the distance.

Zach’s breath caught in his throat. Tears filled his eyes.

In the right hand corner was a signature. Elegant. Cursive. He knew that handwriting. Drawn to it, his heart pounding in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears, he took a step closer.

Abigail Doyle.

His jaw trembled; Zach put a hand over his mouth.

With an ever so light touch, his finger brushed over her name. The beveled lettering of the paint confirmed it wasn’t a print.

He could’ve forged this. Right?

It could be a trick… a horrible, cruel trick.

But… It would’ve been a lot of effort to fake. Why bother when he could’ve bent Zach to his will in any way he wanted? It could’ve been a forgery, but Zach didn’t believe it was.

He glanced at another painting. It was a desert with a lone flower as the centerpiece. His eyes focused on the signature.

Abigail Hawke.

There were four other paintings in the hallway, three on each wall. Zach didn’t say anything. He looked at each one, studying them. He gazed at each signature.

Four of the paintings were signed with her maiden name.

Something loosened inside Zach’s chest.

He walked towards the front door and sat down on the step. He began to put on his shoes. He heard steps from behind; he felt the man’s presence.

“Are you going to leave without giving me an answer?”

His hands tensed; they tightened their grip on his shoelaces.

“I don’t owe you anything,” whispered Zach. He finished tying his laces, but he didn’t stand up. “I don’t have to agree to anything.”

“I know that. I’m not expecting anything from you. I just…” The man’s voice trailed off. There was a deep sigh. Zach turned slightly. Hawke drew a hand through his black hair. The man looked at him; those eyes were tired. “I just want to get to know… my son.”

Bile burned his throat. Zach’s head whipped back towards the door. His muscles tensed. His heart raced. He forced himself to take calming breaths. He swallowed. He got up and walked the last few steps to the front door, pausing. He stood there with clenched fists at his sides.

Then, his shoulders relaxed.

“I’m not your son.”

There was a soft, nearly inaudible intake of breath. Zach didn’t move. He stared at the wooden door, his eyes following the natural pattern of the grain. The clock ticked endlessly in his ears. His breathing slowed.

‘I just want to get to know… my son.’

Zach lifted a hand and grabbed the cold door handle. He twisted it, the door unlatching. He didn’t open it. His lungs expanded in one deep breath, one that made him lightheaded. He let it out, long and drawn out.

Am I falling into the greatest trap of all?

“I’ll be here tomorrow night.”

End of Arc ONE

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-FIVE

Something grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away. Zach slammed a hand to his face. Saliva filled his mouth; bile crawled into his throat. He was moving, but he was too focused on not throwing up on the floor.

Just in time, hands bent him towards the kitchen sink. Zach doubled over and vomited. Bile mixed with his sparse dinner poured from his mouth. He coughed, grimacing. His eyes watered with burning tears; his throat became raw from the acid.

A hand rested on his back, rubbing it in a soothing motion. Chills slid down his spine. Zach gagged, vomiting again. He shivered, having no strength to shrug the hand away. He was stuck.

How dare the man attempt to comfort him. This was all his fault. His touch would pollute him. Zach shuddered beneath the benign touch, hating it with every fiber of his being.

Quit touching me!

He couldn’t stop, his stomach contracting and expelling itself, until there was nothing left. He stood there, hunched over the kitchen sink, his throat burning and tears streaming down his face. He coughed on the lingering bile in his mouth. He gasped for breath.

“Don’t touch me,” hissed Zach, his voice raspy.

The hand withdrew, stealing the warmth it had provided. Zach snarled at himself, hating his body’s betrayal. His eyes glanced around; he grabbed a nearby paper towel and wiped his mouth. He grimaced at the bitter taste. He turned around and glared up at the man.

“How the hell are you my father?” whispered Zach icily. Another wave of sickness flowed into his throat. The very thought… “How’d that happen? Who are you?”

The man’s lips twitched. “Well,” Hawke drawled. “When a man loves a woman very much—“

“SHUT UP!” screamed Zach.

His voice echoed through the room. Silence reigned, the only sounds lifting through the air were the gentle ticks of the clock. His body trembled violently. His hands gripped together; he couldn’t control the tremors. He sucked in a starved breath.

“Don’t,” hissed Zach. “Don’t joke about this.”

More silence.

The man’s body sagged. Hawke let out a low, tired sigh. He leaned against the counter and looked down at the floor.

“I was married to her… Abigail,” whispered Hawke. “For a time.”

Zach reeled. His hand slipped against the sink; he quickly regained his balance. Married? Then… but that meant… That would mean…

Relief warmed his veins. The all consuming disdain, distaste, despair, and revulsion were washed away by that single answer. Somehow, he trusted it.

No, stop it.

Proof.

I need proof.

I need more answers. He could be lying. This could be a plan.

It could be anything. Whatever this was, it could’ve been some elaborate plan of Falcon’s for some… for some stupid reason. He couldn’t think properly. He couldn’t divine his questions. His mind was shattered. Zach didn’t have the answers; the possibilities were endless.

Stay suspicious.

Yet…

The way he looked at Zach… There was something sincere in those eyes. Maybe this was truth: Sebastian Hawke and Abigail Doyle had been married.

But Zach wanted that to be the truth. Other answers, other possible truths – those were too horrifying. Zach was more than aware that his own feelings were clouding his judgement. He didn’t want to know if his mother had been assaulted by this man. He didn’t want to know if he’d been conceived out of cruelty, evil, and pain.

But what if she had loved him?

Such a thought spun a different story. It told a story of young love, of two people finding each other, of getting married and beginning a life together.

If this was the truth, then what had happened?

Zach only knew Michael Bennet as his father, as the only man in his young life. Never had the name of Sebastian Hawke been spoken. There were so many possibilities. Zach’s head pounded, pain rising in his temples.

No, he was done.

Forget the answers.

He didn’t want to hear some sordid tale, like one of those laughable soap operas on television. He didn’t want to listen. He wanted it to all go away – go back to his stressful life of trying to make ends meet, worrying about losing his friends, and trying to capture an elusive criminal. Anything was better than this – this was too much.

The computer was lying. This was a joke. Zach wanted nothing more than to laugh it up.

This was hilarious.

“No,” whispered Zach. He shook his head. “No, we’re not doing this. No—” He sucked in a deep breath, his chest rising high. Each word burned his tongue. “Mom and Dad were married to each other. Abigail and Michael, all right? They were married. They had wedding rings. They had a certificate. Not you. You weren’t in the picture. Just—stop this. Stop everything. Stop lying—”

“I’m not lying,” snapped Hawke, his tone rising. His eyebrows twitched in an annoyance. “I was married to Abby. Mike was at our wedding. I have the wedding certificate to prove it. I have pictures.”

Zach’s heart stopped. Pictures?

No.

Photoshop was a thing.

More nicknames. More familiarity.

The more Falcon acted like he knew them, the more Zach felt uncertain, the more he believed him.

This was dangerous.

A sense of injustice raged through his heart; a flood of new feelings washed over everything else. All this time… All this time, he could’ve had a different life. If this was all true, then where had Hawke been? This was Falcon, the man who couldn’t be taken down by a trained team of six with abilities. He was powerful. Where was he when his dear ‘Abby’ and his friend ‘Mike’ were killed? Why didn’t he save them?

They had died.

And dear Sebastian Hawke had been nowhere to be found.

Something inside Zach snapped.

With a crying roar, Zach threw himself at the man, his hand clenched into a fist. His body came to a slamming halt; the man caught his fist in his hand. Zach jerked away, spinning into a roundhouse kick; it made contact. Falcon grunted. He stumbled. Zach rushed at him with the ferocity of a vicious, rabid animal.

“Stop it,” said Hawke, catching his fist again.

“No!” snapped Zach, wrenching his hand back; he couldn’t pull away. The man’s grip was too strong now.

Zach gritted his teeth and threw his other fist into Falcon’s stomach. There was another grunt; the man bent slightly. Zach pulled back for another punch, but Falcon grabbed the fist before it could strike him again.

“Let go!” cried Zach, thrashing under the hold. The man’s hands tightened around his fists. His chest heaved up and down erratically. He couldn’t escape. Trapped. “Let me go now, you—you ba—”

“Calm down,” said Hawke in a low voice, overriding him. It was too calm, too composed. It only served to make Zach even more furious. He thrashed all the harder, jerking back, pulling away, anything to get away from this man – even if it meant pulling his arms out of their sockets. “Zachary, stop it!” Hawke demanded. “You’re becoming hysterical!”

Tears blurred his vision.

The rage and sorrow peaked, blending together in one horrible overwhelming surge.

“Where were you!?” screamed Zach. He blinked; tears fell down his cheeks. “Where the hell were you when they killed them?!“

Memories of guns, of blood, of screams – they flooded into his mind. Zach gasped for breath, trembling. He went limp. His heart pounded in his head. He closed his eyes; more tears slipped out.

Where were you?

If you’re really my father, if you really were their friend, if you really loved her, then where were you that day?

Zach stood still beneath the silence. After a moment, the man released his hands; they fell at his sides. Zach looked up at Falcon. Inside those crystal eyes, there were sharp, intense emotions whirling within.

Stop that.

“You should rinse your mouth,” whispered Hawke.

“What?” breathed Zach.

“Your mouth,” said Hawke, repeating himself with a raised eyebrow. “You threw up. You probably have a bitter taste in your mouth.”

You think?

Why are you so calm?

Zach glanced at the floor, unable to look into those eyes. His chest felt as if it would burst. Exhaustion assaulted every sense in his body. He was drained, beyond anything he had ever felt before.

Last night had been a picnic. Those fears and worries, what a laugh. They would’ve been better than this. Anything would’ve been better than this. Oh, what would it have been like to be blackmailed, coerced into doing dark deeds for an evil criminal. Sounded like heaven!

Zach listened to the sound of water pouring from the faucet. Something cool pressed into his hand. Zach looked at the glass of water.

“Rinse,” said Hawke.

Zach put it to his lips, feeling the hard glass on his teeth. He wanted to chew on it. He wanted to bite down, crack his teeth on it. Could he bite down hard enough to shatter the glass? Or would his teeth weaken beneath its power and crack under the strain?

Perhaps.

What was I thinking again?

Zach rinsed out his mouth, spitting out the water into the sink. A thought crossed his mind. He wondered what Hawke’s reaction would’ve been if he had spat it into his face. Ah, well. Too bad. Maybe another day.

Whoa, hold the frick up.

My life is not going to include this man! Why am I thinking there’s going to be a next time? No. I never want to see him again. Leave the city. Leave me alone. Never show your face – masked or otherwise – ever again.

But his feelings swept over those thoughts. Deep down, something inside his heart denied them – betrayed yet again by his own body.

“How did this happen?” whispered Zach, looking up at Hawke. “Why?”

Where were you?

What, we weren’t good enough for you any more?

How could you abandon us?

The man sighed, taking the glass from him. There was a gentle clink as he placed the glass onto the countertop. “It’s a long story,” he whispered.

Something pricked at Zach’s heart. “That’s what people say when they don’t want to tell the truth,” he retorted, folding his arms across his chest. He straightened, lifting his chin.

“True,” said Hawke with a nod. Those eyes pierced him. He couldn’t break the man’s gaze. “The question is: do you have the patience to listen to the truth?”

Zach let out a shaky breath. Patience? This took patience? What? No. It didn’t take patience. It took actually wanting to listen. It took a desire, a yearning, a longing to know the man who had sired him. Zach didn’t want that – or so he kept chanting to himself inside his mind. Just what did Hawke expect from him?

‘Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll listen to you. Can I call you Dad? Can I move in with you and be your ever adoring son? Jeepers, I hope so, Dad.’

What. A. Joke.

This man could never take the place of Michael Bennet, the man his mother had lived with, had slept in the same bed with, had died with – Abigail had chosen Michael for a reason and that man had been a great father. He’d been there to put band aids on skinned knees. He’d been the one to tuck Zach into bed at night. He had been the one to tell him bedtime stories.

Too bad he’s dead, though…

Zach gritted his teeth. “The truth?” he snarled. “What, have a long winded tale of sorrow to spin?” Bitterness poured through his tone. “What’re you expecting from me? Sympathy? Father and son bonding?” Zach let out a burst of dark laughter. “News flash, Falcon: normal fathers aren’t the country’s most hunted and feared terrorist.”

He couldn’t stop shaking. Every part of his body felt fragile, like cracked glass that could shatter at any moment. He needed to sit down, lie down, sleep for a century – when would this all go away?

“You… are not wrong there,” said Hawke in a soft voice. “I supposed we can’t come to an understanding like this.”

“Understanding? With you?” said Zach incredulously.

“You aren’t the least bit curious?”

Zach ripped his gaze away from those unnerving eyes; he blew out a rough exhale of breath. Curious? Maybe. But he’d been so focused on Falcon – Falcon was the man of the obsession. Falcon was the enemy, the one to take down. Falcon was the enigma.

Moments ago, he would’ve given everything to learn something about Falcon – even one tiny detail, anything that could shed a glimmer of light on the man he was forced to bring down.

But the man who stood in front of him wasn’t Falcon. This unmasked man was Hawke, his biological father. He appeared sincere, from the way he looked at Zach and from the way he spoke. The man was offering up the information. Wouldn’t it be wise to accept?

No.

No. No. No.

Who cared. Who cared?! Zach didn’t need this. He had enough to deal with without this villain in tights being his father. It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t care.

Liar.

After all, what did he have to lose?

Everything. I could lose everything.

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-FOUR

I’m sorry, what?

What?

Zach stared. He blinked. He stared some more. He squinted. The silence remained as Zach tried to make sense of what this psycho had said. The man’s voice looped in his head. Over and over again, he heard those words.

‘To see if I’m your father.’

Zach started laughing. It was borderline derangement, disturbing even himself. There was no happiness in his laughter; there was no joy. There was only insanity and there was no stopping it. Incredulity flooded through his mind.

Falcon suspects he’s my father?

Oh, hell, no. No, this wasn’t happening. This had to be a bad dream – a horrible, horrible, living nightmare. This was insanity at its finest. The man believed, on some weird basis, that he could possibly be his father? Really? No reasonable person would believe that… unless…

Oh, no, no, no, this wasn’t happening. This had to be a lie. This was a joke, right? The man was joking. Ha. Ha. So funny – straight out of the movies funny. It was so hilarious, Zach couldn’t stop laughing.

Oh, please, tell me this isn’t happening!

The laughter faded into mocking derision.

“Is this a joke?” cried Zach, his deranged hysteria spilling into his tone. “Are you trying to be funny?” Venom poured through his voice. “You had better find a different profession, then, because you suck at this!”

The man’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“Don’t you dare laugh!” shouted Zach, slicing his hand through the air. “My parents are Abigail and Michael Bennet.”

Emotion flashed through Hawke’s eyes. He swallowed; an Adam’s apple bobbed. “Abigail Doyle,” he whispered. “She was a vibrant, beautiful woman. I knew her very well.”

Doyle…

He knew her maiden name. This man knew her maiden name. Zach hadn’t told him that. He had to have done his research because there was no way—no, this isn’t happening—no way he actually knew her in person.

“How dare you!” shouted Zach. “You do not get to do this to me. If you think you’re going to mess with my mind through my mother, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“This isn’t a joke,” said Hawke, his expression darkening. “I knew Abigail Doyle. Fiery red hair, strong Irish accent, gentle and kind – yet spoke her mind all the time, it would drive you crazy. She was a nurse at the… Well, I met her as a nurse.”

‘I decided to give up being a nurse.’

‘But why, Mom?’

‘Because I wanted to be here for you, my darling.’

“Anyone could find that out!” shouted Zach; fear clamped onto his throat. “You’re lying!“

“No, I knew her,” said Hawke, his tone firm. “That’s not a lie.”

“You lied before about that,” said Zach with a low hiss, hating how calm the man was. How dare he. How dare he. “You said you didn’t know her and now you’re saying you do? Which is it?! Why should I believe you now? Why are you trying to pull this on me now?”

Hawke looked away. Zach’s chest heaved up and down with each breath. Out of all of the things he had imagined – and he had imagined a lot – this hadn’t even crossed his mind once. It was fine, though. They hadn’t confirmed it. This could just be a lie.

Right.

It was a lie.

“You look like me,” said Hawke, his voice low, almost to a soft murmur. “You have my eyes. When I first saw you, I swore… You looked so much like me, but there was so much of Abby there, too. There was no mistaking it. You confirmed my suspicions when you told me her name.”

He’s calling her by a nickname!

“Anyone could look like you,” said Zach with a snarl. “Genetics are complex like that.” He let out an aggravated sound, throwing his hands into the air. “Tell me this is some cruel, sick joke you’re playing with me. Tell me!“

What a change. He’d been afraid of what his enemy could do to him. He hadn’t been prepared for lies – or were they the truth? What was a lie? What was the truth? Who was he to believe? Lies had become the most frightening thing now.

“You look like her,” whispered Hawke. “You’re definitely Abby’s son. But you’re not Mike’s son. That much I know.”

More nicknames. This man had a lot of audacity. Was this all he wanted? He didn’t intend to be the nasty villain who blackmailed the hero into doing his dirty work? No, he wanted to find out if Zach was his… was his—

Bile rose inside Zach’s throat.

He couldn’t even think the term. Even thinking about it was insane – made it possible. He dropped his face into his hands, dragging his flesh down with his fingers.

Oh, please let this be a cruel joke.

“Want to prove me wrong?” asked Hawke. Zach’s head popped up, his hands still clutching his face. “Let’s test it. If I’m wrong, then you can go. I won’t bother you or your friends ever again.”

He’ll leave? Just like that? As if.

“You’ll really leave?” said Zach, narrowing his eyes. His hands dropped to his sides. He scoffed. “You’re a liar. Why would I agree to that?”

“I swear on your mother,” said Hawke, quiet reverence in his voice. “I will leave this city if I’m wrong. I won’t hurt Abby’s son. I can’t make you believe me, but I will keep that promise. Abby was a special person in my life. You’re her son. I would never directly do something to hurt her.”

Directly?

There was something gentle in his tone, in his expression, in his eyes – somehow, Zach found himself believing this man wouldn’t hurt him now. This is ridiculous! There was no way Zach would blindly believe Falcon would leave the city once they learned Zach wasn’t his son. But the way he talked about Abigail… Perhaps he really knew her.

Falcon had known his mother and father.

Had they been friends? That much could be true… There’s so much I don’t know.

“Well? Will you agree to do a testing?”

It’s all right. There’s no way I’m related to Hawke. It’s impossible. My father is Michael Bennet. My Dad was a great man. There’s no logical reason why I’d be related to this man.

Let’s set this straight. I can’t have this hanging over my head.

I have to clear the air, learn the truth.

Zach slowly nodded his consent. Hawke motioned with a finger; Zach took a step closer. He looked at the desk with a new light. The man had been prepared for this.

He really believes…

Hawke snapped a plastic glove over his hand and grabbed a swab from the table. He turned around and stepped up to Zach. He looked up at the man; his heart thumped. Panic flushed through his veins.

What am I doing? Am I really doing a DNA test with this man? A stranger? A frickin’ terrorist?!

What if?

What if it was true? What if he really was related to this man? What, then? Then, what?!

What am I doing?

“Swallow and open your mouth,” said Hawke.

Zach obeyed. Hawke inserted the swab into his mouth. The cotton swab gently brushed against the interior of his cheek for a few seconds, before it moved to the edge of his teeth. Hawke withdrew the swab, setting it aside. He did this until he had three samples.

Zach trembled. He wrapped his arms around his waist. He watched the man collect samples of himself. Zach’s eyes lost their focus; it was becoming a blur.

“W–what now?” asked Zach. He let out a breathy snort. “What, we send it to a lab and they give us the results in five to ten business days?”

“I do it here myself,” said Hawke, not looking back. “I have the equipment.”

“Lovely. Fantastic,” drawled Zach, his arms tightening around his waist. He rubbed a nervous hand over his arm. “But you aren’t exactly an award winning trustworthy guy. Huh, I wonder why.”

“I can’t fake science,” said Hawke, stopping for a moment to glance back at him. “There’s no twisting the truth.”

Zach scoffed. “Please. You’ve been lying to me ever since I met you. What am I supposed to expect? You’re a liar.”

Hawke let out a deep, regretful sigh. “If I had known the truth years ago, then things would’ve turned out very differently.”

What?

Hawke pointed to the couch. “You might want to sit down,” he said. “It won’t be long, but it will still take some time. It’s not instant.”

The man went silent, sitting down in the black office chair and rolling closer to the computer. Zach sat on the edge of the plush sofa, his hands clasped in his lap. He watched the man, staring at the high back of the office chair. His knuckles went white. He twisted the skin back and forth.

Could it be true?

Zach didn’t know enough of his parents to be certain. He’d been six years old when they had been killed. He had little left of them, except for a painting by his mother and an old journal from his father. They had moved around too much for Zach to remember any close friends. They had always been a tight knit family.

So, what if?

What if there was more to their story? What if this stranger had known his parents, had been a friend, and Zach never had a clue? What if it was worse?

What if Hawke was his father?

The very thought made his mouth go dry. There were so many scenarios that could’ve brought that to pass. Cheating. Rape. Zach wasn’t sure he could handle that last thought. If this man had done something so horrific…

This night would not end well.

But… That didn’t make sense by the way Hawke talked about Abigail – not that he couldn’t be delusional in his own head. It sounded like he wished he were Zach’s father. Oh, right. Falcon wanted to be a Dad, so he would stop his mass murdering ways to raise his son.

Riiiight.

Yet another ‘what if’ crossed his mind.

What would’ve life been like if Zach hadn’t been a ward of the government? What if he’d had a father?

Emotion overcame him, one of a deep, hidden desire – a desire for a living, breathing father. It startled him to the core. Zach tore his head to the side, his breathing ragged and erratic. He tried to calm it down.

His feelings betrayed him. Zach wasn’t about to let someone like this man sway him. He had come this far without a father. Ten years. He didn’t need a biological father in the form of this criminal. His friends were his family now and that was all Zach needed.

What did Falcon expect – if, by some crazy reason, they were father and son? Was he supposed to feel a loving connection to Hawke? Ha! That was a real funny joke.

Zach didn’t see the humor in it.

In the end, it didn’t matter. This man wasn’t family. Anyone could be a sperm donor. It took a real – present and honorable – man to be a father.

Michael Bennet had been such a man.

“It’s finished,” whispered Hawke. He turned around in the chair and motioned to the screen. Light glimmered in his eyes. “See the answer for yourself.”

No.

Stop that.

Stop with that emotional manipulation.

He stepped forward; they were like lead. There was a list of results on the computer screen. He skimmed the contents; his heart prayed this was a terrible joke, that the two of them would go back to being Falcon and One – Hero and Villain, enemies with no connections whatsoever.

He denied the hidden prayer, the irrational prayer that ruled out all logical thought.

‘DNA results show paternal connection with the child. Subject Sebastian is the immediate paternal parent to Subject Zach.’

His heart fell into his stomach. A wave of cold heat flushed through his body. His mouth went dry; his palms became damp. A weight broke his back. His hands slammed onto the surface of the desk. Glass vials rattled. Hunched over, he stared at those traitorous words – those cruel, earth shattering words that changed the very way he thought about himself.

So.

It was true.

The truth was a traitor.

Zach looked over at the man. Hawke gazed at him with a tender expression. There was a soft light in his eyes – those eyes. Zach gritted his teeth. He had the man’s eyes. They were older, jaded with flecks of darkness – but they were the same.

Dammit.

Zach sucked in his breath, placing a hand over his mouth. Hawke really was his father. How did this happen—no, he knew the mechanics!—how, with all the possibilities in this world could this have happened? Friends? Had they been friends? Cheated? Had Michael known? Had he known Zach wasn’t his son?

Zach squeezed his eyes shut.

Raped?

Had he been conceived out of power, violence, and hate?

Tears fell. This was too much. This was horrible. He’d been sired by a terrible man, a man who had taken the lives of hundreds of people and hadn’t batted an eye.

Son of a criminal. Son of a murderer. Son of a terrorist.

His stomach turned. A wave of nausea lifted into his throat.

“I think I’m gonna be sick!“

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-THREE

What?

Zach could only stare, his mouth opened wide. The kind, gentle man who had saved their lives was also the one and only Falcon.

The frick is going on?!

This doesn’t make sense!

“Are you going to remain plastered to the door or are you going to come in?” asked Hawke, his head tilting to the side.

Zach’s chest lifted in a deep breath.

Falcon was Hawke.

Sebastian Hawke was Falcon.

He was the same man who had saved them. He had been there, near them, when the explosion had gone off. Watching us? He had pulled Zach away from a falling wall. He had saved his life. What was this man playing at? He’d been the cause of the explosion in the first place. Why save them when his track record was covered in blood?

Zach studied the man, looking for any hint of an answer.

“You are a very brave young man.”

Zach blinked. Though the man’s expression had turned impassive, neutral even, there was an intense amount of emotion whirling within his eyes.

This is still Falcon.

Don’t let your guard down.

Hawke gestured towards himself. “Come along when you’re ready. Take your shoes off, though.”

The man walked down the hallway. He turned to the left and disappeared. Zach didn’t move, rooted to the spot. This wasn’t going how he had imagined it. This wasn’t how the villain blackmailed the hero. But Falcon wasn’t doing anything. He hadn’t forced Zach to follow him. He hadn’t thrown out any threats nor demands.

Zach gritted his teeth. He’d been expecting a more villainous lair, not this inviting hallway with beautiful landscape paintings on clean white walls. It was too…

Normal.

Criminals weren’t supposed to be normal people.

Zach sighed, the tension fading in his body. The pressure lifted from his heart. He shouldn’t let this rattle him. It was a plan constructed by Falcon: show his human side to make himself more relatable.

Courage moved his body.

Zach bent down and pulled his shoes off. He set them aside, before stepping up into the hallway. His socked feet slipped slightly against the wooden flooring. At the end of the hallway was a large clock on top of a shelf filled with books and knickknacks. Zach gazed at the paintings on the walls in the hallway. The style looked rather familiar, but he wasn’t sure where to place it. They were beautiful, though… something nostalgic about them.

As Zach reached the end of the hallway, he looked to his right. There was a bathroom with the door ajar. To his left, the floorplan opened up into a large living room and kitchen combination. A desk with a computer sat on the right side of the room with a sofa and coffee table to the left. The area was furnished with everything one could want in a home.

Falcon had lived in Templeton Hills long enough to get settled.

This wasn’t just a house, a place of dwelling. It wasn’t a lair or a temporary place to sleep before going to the next town.

This was a home.

Hawke was sitting at the desk. There were quite a few machines on the desk, a number of them reminding Zach of a hospital. There were numerous vials – is that blood? – syringes, needles, and other things on the desk.

Wonderful.

This man was going to experiment on him, wasn’t he?

Hawke turned in his chair; a light lift of his lips played across his face. “So,” he said, amusement in his tone. “You finally came inside. I thought you’d stay at the door for another ten minutes at least.”

Zach grimaced. Conflicting emotions burned inside his heart. This man is Falcon. Saving our lives doesn’t erase all the others he’s taken.

It was difficult to separate the two, though.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Zach swallowed back the bile in his throat; he licked his dry lips. Questions stormed his mind, but the flurry couldn’t be puzzled through. The tension in his body had returned in full strength.

The man let out a low sigh. He rubbed his face. “Listen, whatever is going on in that brain of yours—” Hawke motioned with his fingers. “—forget it, all right?” he said, his tone demanding. It softened a moment later. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

How can I believe that?

Yet, against his will, something relaxed inside his chest. Crap. How was the man doing that? He wasn’t speaking in that silky tone, like he had the night before. This was his ‘Mr. Hawke voice.’ Hawke only had to say the right thing and the tension would fade away.

It was a trick.

Don’t believe anything. Come on!

“Really now, kid, calm down,” said Hawke, shaking his head. He stood up. Panic struck. Zach took a few steps backwards. Hawke let out an exasperated huff. “Listen, despite everything, it was never my intention to harm you. I swear it. If you’re so afraid, why would you come?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” snapped Zach, embarrassment warming his face.

“Really?” A smirk lifted the man’s features; his eyes flicked up and down. “You’re terrified—“

“Uh, hello?” cried Zach, gesturing wildly. “You’re the one who blackmailed me!”

“—but brave. Very brave. I’m impressed.”

His chest constricted.

“What do you want?” asked Zach. No more being afraid. He would be cautious; he would be careful, but fear wouldn’t paralyze him any more. “I’m here. So, talk.”

“You’re such a brazen child,” drawled Hawke. “And here I thought you had come for a pleasant visit.” He snorted. “You can’t even enter my living room, kid.”

And there was Falcon.

Zach strode into the living room and whirled around, folding his arms near his chest. “Look,” he snapped, lifting his shoulders. His arms tightened. “I’m in the living room. Now what?”

“So impatient. So anxious.”

Annoyance pricked at him.

“What, am I supposed to guess, then?” asked Zach with a derisive laugh. “Okay, how about a long winded speech about how you’re a misguided asshole, who has all of these pathetic reasons justifying why he’s a mass murdering psychopath? No? That isn’t why I’m here?” Zach snarled. He lifted his hands into the air and made air quotes. “What, no villain monologue?”

Hawke let out a low chuckle. “You watch too much TV, kid.”

And there it was again. ‘Kid.’ It was almost endearing. The man wasn’t angry. He didn’t even bat an eye at the insults Zach had thrown at him. He was amused. The man thought this was funny.

Hawke stepped forward; alarm flooded through Zach. He was a number of inches taller than Zach, his presence daunting. The man’s upper body was bulky, his fitness prevalent throughout his chest and arms. Hawke leaned over slightly, looking down at him with those bright eyes. Zach lifted his head, jutted his chin out, and eyed the man back with all of his defiance. No matter his feelings, he would not show them. He refused to be intimidated by Falcon.

“You’re a walking dichotomy,” said Hawke; an eyebrow rose. “You came, despite your fear, despite all your preconceptions of how it would be, you still came.”

A bird of prey. The man started to circle him. Zach followed the man with his eyes at first, his head slowly turning as Hawke moved out of eyesight. His head whipped around to the other side when the man was out of sight again.

“You didn’t come just to protect your friends, now did you?” whispered Hawke. His eyes gleamed. “You were drawn to me. You wanted to know more. You wanted answers.”

Zach stiffened. The man paused in front of him, staring down. “Don’t kid yourself, Falcon,” he growled.

Hawke raised an eyebrow; his mouth lifted in that ever annoying smirk. “No?” he drawled. “Despite the dangers, you came anyway—”

“Because you threatened them!” cried Zach.

“—You wanted to know,” whispered Hawke, his low voice a roar inside Zach’s ears. “You didn’t just come because you’re on a self sacrificing hero mission. No. You’re so curious, so determined to take me down, you were willing to sacrifice yourself for it.”

Zach dropped his gaze. The man’s words burned like a scorching inferno. His hands curled into fists. This man knew what buttons to press. Yes, Zach wanted to know more. It didn’t take away from the fact that he was also here for them.

Both were valid.

“Are you going to get to the point yet or are you just gonna taunt me all evening? I said it before: you need a hobby.”

Hawke chuckled. His lips thinned and he looked away for a moment. There was a flash of uncertainty in his expression, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Hawke took a deep breath; his head dipped to the side.

“You’re aware of how they test for paternity, yes?”

Okay, that’s a weird question.

Zach frowned. Seriously? This was the topic now? He nodded, not knowing what to say.

“It’s easy to do nowadays,” said Hawke softly, each word spoken carefully. “With the right equipment, you can do all sorts of things with DNA, right in your own home. And with enough money, the possibilities are endless.”

Zach’s eyes wandered to the man’s desk, gazing at the items there. So, he’s experimenting with DNA with that stuff? Is that how he has powers?

“I wish to test it.”

His eyes flicked back. Test what? The man wanted what? He wanted to take a paternity test? And why was Zach needed for this?

“I don’t understand,” said Zach.

The man shifted his weight. There was a long pause. “I wish to do a testing,” Hawke said finally.

“You said that,” said Zach, annoyed. “I still don’t understand. You’re trying to find out who your parents are?”

“No, not mine,” said Hawke, breaking eye contact.

It was getting more weird by the second. Everything in the man’s stance had weakened. He had become neither Falcon nor Hawke. It was uncomfortably out of character from what Zach had seen so far of this man.

“Mine? I know who my parents are.”

Hawke let out a ragged sigh. “No, I want to test my DNA.”

Alarm bells were ringing in the back of Zach’s mind. The man was still not getting to the damn point. Was this going to be an ongoing problem with Falcon?

“Falcon, get to the point,” snapped Zach.

“And yours.”

More cryptic nonsense. Zach took a full minute trying to decipher the man’s broken thoughts. He struggled. He wanted to test their DNA to see their parents, then? Is that what was going on?

“Why?” asked Zach. “Why do you need to test mine, too? I already said I know my parents. Is there a point to this? Get to the friggin’ point, Falcon, would you? Quit dancing around here. I can’t read minds!”

Please tell me he just wants to experiment with my DNA and use it for evil. Please tell me he wants my powers for nefarious reasons.

He’s not… trying to say what I think he is…

Please, no.

Hawke inclined his head slightly, considering for a moment. The blood roared inside Zach’s ears.

“I want to test your DNA against mine.”

What…?

What?

“To see if we’re related… To see if I’m your father.”

WHAT?!

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-TWO

It loomed over Zach like a thunderous cloud. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t concentrate. His legs bounced; his eyes darted to the clock. The voice of his teachers droned in his ears, but they all blended into one smooth voice. Taunting, haunting words echoed in his mind, rattling through every corner. There was no moment for peace. It would break him.

It would tear him apart.

Anticipation was the worst thing ever created.

‘…the beginning of a wonderful relationship.’

‘It’s only a few blocks from you.’

‘You’re on the second floor, aren’t you?’

‘Come alone.’

Come alone.

Alone.

“Bennet!“

Zach’s head snapped up. His teacher was tapping her foot on the floor, her eyes narrowing. All the other students turned their heads back at him; their eyes stared.

“Bennet, pay attention, would you?” snapped the teacher.

Zach nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

The woman sighed, shaking her head. She continued without another word to him.

He should’ve stayed home.

At lunch, as he stood in line, Zach kept his head down. Whispers blended all around him. They snickered. The bags beneath his eyes ached; there were bruises there. A few girls pointed at him; he could hear their words, but he ignored them. He grabbed his food as quickly as possible.

Something light hit him in the head. A crumpled piece of paper landed on the floor. Zach glanced at it, but didn’t pick it up.

“Hey, Bennet, you dropped something,” said Novak with a smirk, strutting towards him.

Voices went silent. Eyes turned onto the pair of them. In the back of the cafeteria, his friends slowly stood up from their seats. Hikaru’s worried expression burned. Zach turned his gaze onto Novak. The other boy smirked down at him. He motioned to the paper on the floor.

“Pick up the trash.”

It didn’t take a massive amount of creativity to figure out where this was going. Zach didn’t have the energy to engage.

Zach stepped around the boy, ignoring him. A rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder, jerking him around. Zach’s grip loosened on his tray; his lunch clattered to the floor, splattering his food all over their shoes.

“Bennet, you freak!” snapped Novak. “These are expensive!”

Zach let out a low sigh. “Well, maybe,” he said in an annoyed tone. “If you didn’t bother me, this wouldn’t have happened. Stop bugging me, Novak.”

“Or what?” demanded Novak. He leaned down, barely an inch away from Zach’s face. “I know you think you’re hot stuff,” he whispered. “But it’s your fault Rosie is gone. Tiff is a mess over missing her best friend. It’s your fault.“

Zach gritted his teeth; his fists shook at his sides. “It’s not my fault Finley opened her mouth when she was told not to talk.”

Novak grabbed him by the collar, jerking him forward. Zach’s hands gripped Novak’s wrist tightly; he glared back at him.

“If you weren’t around, then she wouldn’t be gone.”

“I don’t have any control over that kind of stuff, so take it up with the government,” snapped Zach, jerking out of his grasp. He stumbled back, fixing his collar. “It’s not our fault.”

He strode away before Novak could grab him again. He didn’t bother with getting another tray. He wasn’t all that hungry anyway. The cafeteria broke into fervent voices. Zach threw himself at their bench, slumping his elbows onto the table and resting his face between them.

“Are you all right?” demanded Hikaru, sitting down next to him. A hand touched his back. “He didn’t hurt you, right? We should wipe off your shoes.”

“It doesn’t matter,” murmured Zach. He lifted his head. The others slowly sat back down. All eyes were on Zach.

He couldn’t bear it.

His sanity was going to snap.

“Hey, I’m f—”

“If you say ‘fine,’ I swear I’m going to smack you,” snapped Hikaru.

Zach snorted, glancing at her. The tension eased slightly in his chest. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’m fine.”

She smacked him on the arm.

“Ow, okay, I get it,” said Zach with a tired laugh, pulling away from her. “I get it. I’m not fine, all right?”

“Really?” drawled Brielle. “We had no idea.”

“Could’ve fooled us,” said Drake.

“Oh, wait: you didn’t,” said Sevati.

Jacob giggled.

“Are you sick?” asked Hikaru, putting a hand to Zach’s forehead. It moved after a moment. “You don’t seem to have a fever.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” said Zach with a sigh. “That’s it, really. I’m tired.”

Hikaru bit her lower lip. “Maybe you should go home…”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be okay. What’s a few more hours?”

“That’s like asking for trouble,” said Jacob. “You never ask stuff like that.” That threw the rest of them into a fit of laughter and giggles. Jacob inhaled, looking affronted. “What?” he demanded. “You see it all the time on TV and stuff. You don’t make a poke at bad stuff. It always bites you in the bum!”

They didn’t stop laughing. Zach smiled at Jacob. “You’re right,” he said with a nod. “We won’t poke fate.”

“Good,” said Jacob with a huff, still looking a bit offended.

A wave of gratitude washed through Zach. The others were smiling again, chuckles still under their breaths. They truly were amazing.

And he couldn’t be frustrated when Hikaru forced some of her food on him.

I’m doing this to protect them. I’m going to protect them.

It’s going to be okay.

They’re worth it.

The rest of the day went slowly. He counted the hours. He counted the minutes. He never took his eyes off the clock. As each second ticked with every click of the clock, it was a second closer to tonight.

Closer.

Closer.

So close.

That evening around seven, they ate dinner. Zach stared at his plate. As the others piled on the food, the bile rose inside Zach’s throat. He swallowed.

“Aren’t you hungry?” asked Sevati. “You didn’t eat much at lunch.”

Hikaru glanced over at him; her mouth thinned.

“I dunno,” breathed Zach. “I think I feel a bit sick.”

Hikaru bit her lower lip.

I’m fine.

But you’re not.

You’re lying to yourself.

When will you drown?

Zach stood up; his chair scrapped against the floor. Movement around the table paused.

“You know… I think I’m going to go for a walk,” said Zach. “I think the fresh air will be good for me.” He grabbed his jacket and threw it on. He paused at the front door. “I’ll be back later,” he said softly. “Don’t wait up for me.”

His friends exchanged looks between one with another. He ignored them. Hikaru jumped up from the table and followed after him. Zach stepped into the stairway hall. Hikaru shut the front door behind herself and gave him a long look.

“Are you sure you should go alone?” asked Hikaru. “What if you collapse? What if you don’t come home tonight?”

Zach snorted. “It’s not that bad,” he whispered. “I’ll be back home.”

He won’t keep me.

Right?

He wouldn’t want to raise suspicion, now would he?

A strange impulse came over Zach. He grabbed Hikaru by the hand and pulled her a little closer.

“Listen to me,” whispered Zach, squeezing her hand gently. “If something happens to me—” At her horrified expression, he lifted his free hand into the air. “—I’m not saying it will, all right? I’m just saying… Just in case in the future, okay? If something happens to me, protect the others. You should…”

He let out a slow exhale of breath.

“Don’t let anything separate you,” whispered Zach. “No matter what. Stay together.”

“Zach,” murmured Hikaru. “You’re scaring me.”

“I know, but trust me on this.”

She nodded. “I promise. No matter what, we’ll stick together.”

Zach smiled. He pulled her closer, slipping his arms around her waist. She melted into his embrace.

I’m coming home tonight. I’ll be okay.

The moment was fleeting, gone within seconds. They released one another. Zach turned away and made his way down the stairs. They seemed to echo louder than normal. At the bottom of the stairs, he glanced up.

She stood at the top, watching him.

He smiled and gave her a wave. He shut the door behind himself, slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and walked along the sidewalk.

He followed the GPS

With each step, the lump in his throat grew. Whatever happened tonight, he would remain strong. He’d been through a lot already. He could endure whatever Falcon dished out at him.

His steps were monotonous. He pushed all thought into the back of his mind and focused solely on his feet. When his pocket vibrated, Zach’s body gave a little start. He stopped, pulling out his phone.

He glanced up.

I’m here already?

It was barely a fifteen minute stroll.

Zach looked around, taking in the surroundings. It was a neighborhood of high quality condos. He checked the address number. Zach walked into the neighborhood, taking one of the winding sidewalks. He looked through the condo numbers, trying to find the right one. He stopped in front of the last condo near the sidewalk.

It was normal.

The man’s address was surprisingly normal.

Zach slowly walked up the porch stairs, pausing in front of the door. There was a keypad next to it. Of course, a criminal could afford such a nice place. Oh, the irony of it. Here, he couldn’t even afford a trip to the fricking dollar store, while this criminal could blatantly live in such an expensive area.

Geez, life wasn’t fair.

Zach gritted his teeth.

He was going to enter the devil’s lair.

Zach squashed the rising fear that licked his insides. He lifted his hand and knocked on the door. This was awkward. For crying out loud, he had knocked on this man’s door – Falcon’s front door! – as if he were visiting a good friend.

The door swung open. Zach jumped, his body jolting. No one was there. He took a step forward. He peeked inside.

Empty. The door had opened by itself…

Yeah, that wasn’t creepy at all.

He took another step forward; his heart fluttered. The interior was normal. Wow, what disappointment. Falcon hadn’t bothered to go full Saturday morning cartoon villain on the interior. What a missed opportunity.

As Zach took a few more steps inside, the door slammed shut behind him. He whirled around, his heart pounding against his chest. The room fell into darkness. Zach grabbed the handle, turning it back and forth, only to find it locked.

Shit!

I should’ve known!

Zach tried to get the door open again, but it was useless. It wouldn’t budge. Panic rose and devoured his heart. His breathing hitched, the panic suffocating him. The darkness was all encompassing, drowning him within its depths.

Zach leaned his forehead against the door, feeling the cold wood press against his skin. His hands were still grasped around the door handle.

What now?

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to go into a stranger’s house?”

Zach’s breath caught. He whirled around, his back pressing against the door. He saw a form in the darkness. That voice. Falcon. The condo had a small landing that had a single step up into a longer hallway. The man was standing on it.

There was a flick and the hallway flooded with bright light. Zach sucked in his breath, his lungs expanding as he stared into the face of the man who stood before him – no mask.

Mid to late thirties, average height, high cheekbones, prominent jaw line, black wavy hair, crystal blue eyes – all the same features of—

“Mr. Hawke?” breathed Zach; confusion bled through his tone. He stared, slow to understand. “What’re you doing here? There’s a criminal…”

He sucked in his breath.

“Wait… You’re Falcon?” whispered Zach. Him? He’d been so kind, so warm. It didn’t match. It didn’t connect. Why? “You’re the one who has murdered so many people? You’re the criminal that has the entire country in an uproar?”

The man’s lips twitched. Crystal blue eyes glinted. His lips lifted in a smirk.

“All in a day’s work.”

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-ONE

“Falcon.”

“Are you alone?”

“Don’t insult me.”

Even though the man’s mask covered his entire face, Zach could still see faint contours in his features. There was a hint of movement; the man’s mouth lifted to the side slightly. He didn’t reply.

Silence.

It burned.

Zach lasted for about thirty-six seconds. He counted. “So, what do you want?” he asked, unnerved. He couldn’t stop himself from filling the quiet. It was probably part of Falcon’s plan – blah blah blah. But who had time for that kind of flexing? Zach was not in the mood. “I don’t have all night for a pleasant chat. Some of us like to sleep, you know.”

Sleep? Amusing.

There was a smooth chuckle. “My, my,” Falcon drawled. “Who’s the impatient little hero?”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk to me,” hissed Zach in a low voice. “So, talk.”

Falcon touched a gloved finger to his chin. “I suppose we could get to the point,” he said, amusement in his tone. The hand disappeared. “I can respect that.”

There was another moment silence.

This asshole is purposely drawing this out!

Zach didn’t fill the silence this time, enduring each second with the agony of nails on a chalkboard. He waited. And waited.

“Let’s say you’ve… peaked my interest,” said Falcon with a languid motion of the hand. “You’re a fascinating lad. You’re… different than all the others. And I can’t help but wonder why you waste your time with the government.”

Huh?

Wait, what?

Out of all the things to talk about, this is what Falcon called at midnight to discuss?

I’m different than all the others?

Oh, please.

Did this man think him stupid? He wouldn’t be swayed by the honeyed words of a serpent. What an insult.

“I’m fascinating, am I?” asked Zach, folding his arms. He leaned back against the couch. “You, a grown man, finds a sixteen year old kid fascinating?” Zach let out a derisive laugh. “Whatever you’re selling, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Falcon snorted; he shook his head.

“You’re a smart one. I’ll give you that.”

“What do you want?” demanded Zach. “Get to the damn point or this conversation is over.”

“You’re so impatient,” said Falcon in a chiding tone. “I thought we could have an enjoyable chat.”

“At midnight? On a school night? So bored, are you, with blowing up half the city that you gotta ruin my sleep? Get a hobby.”

The man inclined his head. “What would you say,” Falcon said with a soft whisper, “if I said I knew more about you?”

Fear choked his breath.

He knows.

Of course. A sense of dread overtook his senses. It was going to be a different game, then. Things just got deadly.

“You’re trying to mess with my head,” said Zach, his tone overconfident. No fear. Show strength. “You’re bluffing.”

There was another cruel pause.

“Let’s analyze the facts, then,” said Falcon, his tone mild, as if he were instructing a class. Condescension dripped throughout his inflection. “I have your number. I hacked into your laptop. I know your location. It gets pretty crowded in that little apartment, yes? Too small for six teenagers. Two bedroom, one bath? Tsk.”

His stomach churned.

They weren’t safe.

“Stop lying,” hissed Zach. “You know nothing about us.”

“Don’t I?” whispered Falcon with a silky drawl. “Zachary James Bennet.”

Zach went cold.

It was like someone had dropped a bucket of water filled with ice cubes over his head. A gasp shuddered through his throat. He stiffened. His heart palpitated, fluttering, gasping, dying in his chest. His vision blurred, nearly blackening completely. He sucked in his breath; his vision returned. The hair on his arms rose.

Hearing his name – his full name – out of the mouth of this man in that smooth, obnoxious tone was the most chilling thing Zach had ever experienced.

The man knew.

Fear beyond anything Zach had ever felt in his entire life gripped his heart; he couldn’t speak. His breathing quickened. Small, audible breaths were gasping from his mouth. The shadows shifted.

“Identities are fleeting,” said Falcon softly. “Did you expect to be protected behind a mask, a piece of fabric? Perhaps you thought the government would protect you…”

Zach couldn’t breathe. He would suffocate. He was drowning; horror poured through his veins, poisoning his senses.

“What a foolish boy, so childish and naive to hope for such things. Hmph. The government doesn’t care about their tools.”

Zach sucked in his breath. Stars popped in his sight; his head felt light. He shivered.

“What do you want?” whispered Zach.

His voice was weak with a quiver. It sounded foreign in his head. He sounded young, like a child calling for their father or mother in the middle of the night, frightened by the beasts that laid beneath the shadows. He quietly cleared his throat, forcing his voice down to its normal pitch.

Oh, how stupid he’d been.

How arrogant of him to think he could outwit this man. If the police and the government couldn’t find him, what had possessed Zach’s mind to believe that he – a child with botched powers – could take Falcon so easily? This man had been evading capture for years, avoiding intelligent, educated men and women who were experienced in their careers and jobs.

In his arrogance, Zach had willingly fallen into a trap.

The man would, inevitably, blackmail him.

His hearted fluttered in fear. What would that entail? The possibilities were endless and every last one of them were terrifying.

Or…

Would he be like one of those villains in the movies?

‘Join me and be free.’

And for a brief, selfish moment, a wish for that rose inside Zach’s heart. A life without fear, a life without pressure – what would that be like?

He wouldn’t live in fear of losing his family. He wouldn’t live with the pressure from Sullivan, from the government, from the world. No worry. No guilt. No pressure. There would be money for food. There would be money for a trip to the dollar store.

And so much more.

He’d have peace.

If Falcon offered such things, should he consider it? Should he think about such a future? Bring it up to his friends for serious consideration?

His heart wavered.

The allure of the enemy was strong.

It would mean turning his back on the right thing. Zach wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted to do. Siding with a man who freely killed hundreds of people – and mocked such things…

No.

His father would be ashamed of him; his mother would be disappointed in him.

Joining with a murderer, a terrorist, was the wrong choice. Even if he didn’t always feel like one, Zach was a hero. He stood for justice and law when he slipped the mask on. He protected people, even when his powers weren’t working. He wasn’t perfect, but neither was anyone else. Though the world expected their ‘heroes’ to be flawless, they weren’t.

Being on the other side meant giving up being a hero. Money, security, freedom – were those worth the sacrifice he would have to make? Were the innocents of this world more important than such trivial things?

Were his needs more important than others?

“What do I want?” whispered Falcon, repeating the words slowly. “There are a lot of things that I want. The question is, will you cooperate?”

Zach swallowed, drawing up his courage. A hero… “You know my name. What’s your point?” he demanded. “A lot of people do. The government shuts down people who talk about any identities of their Units. Go ahead and talk. Maybe the government will finally find you.”

“Who’s to say I’ll talk about you?” said Falcon lightly.

Zach’s stomach swooped downward. “What?” he whispered.

There was a soft, dark laugh. “Do you really think I’ll do something so benign as talking about you? Oh, Zachary,” Falcon purred. “You’re so cute. Information is far more valuable than spreading it around for everyone else. No… No, no, no.”

Zach waited. His body remained stiff. He waited for the threat, the thing that would bend Zach’s will to whatever this man wanted from him. Zach knew he was drawing this out, dangling it in front of him with the delighted, sadistic pleasure of a cat playing with a mouse.

“It’d be so unfortunate if something happened to your friends,” said Falcon lightly. “Didn’t a few of them almost die today?” he asked in a mock aghast tone. He shook his head. “You were a bit close to the explosion, weren’t you? A few more paces, a few more yards… Tsk. Would’ve been a right shame.” There was another long pause. His next words were slow and deliberate. “Drake, was it? Didn’t he almost lose a leg?”

He’s watching us.

Zach resisted the urge to look around the living room, every shadow a traitor to their peace and safety, hiding some secret camera.

How long?

How long has he been watching us? How? When? Why?!

There was a soft chuckle. Falcon turned his head to the side slightly and let out a mock sound of surprise.

“Oh, dear. Look at the time,” said Falcon. His head turned to face Zach; those masked eyes reflected the light for a brief moment. A shudder slid down Zach’s spine. “I think that’s enough for one night,” he said softly. “It’s a school night, isn’t it? Wouldn’t want you droopy eyed for a day of learning.”

“Excuse me?” demanded Zach. “That’s it? This conversation isn’t over. You tell me what you want from me or I’m going to the chief of police. We’ll take our chances.”

Waiting for the unknown was a far crueler fate.

“Very well,” said Falcon, sounding absurdly pleased. “Still, it is getting rather late. Let’s continue this tomorrow night, but in person.

The air disappeared inside Zach’s throat. “What?” he croaked.

“Since this is just the beginning of a wonderful relationship,” said Falcon with a dark purr. “I think it prudent to dispense with all this—” He made a gesture with his hand, as if trying to find the right word. “—secrecy. And I want to see you. In person. I’ll send you the address and you can drop by in the evening tomorrow.”

Oh, sure. Like a social call. I’ll just drop on by as if we’re old friends.

Is this man insane?!

It didn’t take someone with an active imagination to think of all the horrible things that could happen to him if he met up with this psychopath. Alone.

“The hell I’m coming over,” snapped Zach. “Are you insane? Come on, I’m not that foolish—” Zach used his fingers for dramatic air quotes. “—there’s no way. You’re a murderer, a criminal, a terrorist, and who knows what else. No way in—”

“I could always visit your little apartment, then,” interrupted Falcon with a drawl, his tone heavy with suggestion. Zach inhaled sharply. “You’re on the second floor, aren’t you? I’m sure your friends wouldn’t mind having me over for dinner, hm?“

The torrent of fear plagued his throat. It suffocated his breath; it seized his lungs. Blackness seeped into his sight, white stars sparkling like a night sky. Pound. Pound. Pound. His heart thumped rapidly. Sweat beaded at his temples.

His chest squeezed.

Zach sucked in air, starved for breath.

“Is that a no? Excellent.”

His pocket vibrated. Zach slowly pulled his phone out. An address had been texted to him.

“It’s only a few blocks from you.”

No one could save him.

“Tomorrow night, say… around eight o’clock? Come alone,” said Falcon, a hidden smirk lifting his tone. “Oh, and come without your cute mask. You don’t need it, after all, Zachary.”

Watching us…

How long?

Why?

“I could always tell the police,” whispered Zach, half to himself. His words were stronger than his shaky voice. “They’ll find you and arrest you. I could tell them.”

I should tell them.

They would capture him.

“You could,” said Falcon with an upward lilt in his voice. Then, he let out a single, breathy chuckle. He leaned closer to the camera. “But you won’t.”

Click.

The screen was black, with the backlight still illuminating the darkness.

Zach clamped a hand over his mouth and bolted to his feet. He darted to the bathroom, just in time to double over the toilet bowl. There, he retched the contents of his dinner – the dinner that had been prepared with such laughter and happiness.

Those moments felt like a lifetime ago.

Zach shuddered and gasped over the bowl; he retched again. Bile burned his throat. Tears squeezed from his eyes.

Once his body calmed down, Zach cleaned up and washed out his mouth. There was still an awful taste on his tongue. He stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed onto the couch. His arms curled into his chest, while his hands dragged over his face.

There, he silently cried, feeling more vulnerable than a newborn kitten. His mind paralyzed his body with a powerful paralytic: fear.

I shouldn’t go.

If I do… this man could do anything to me. Anything.

But if I don’t go, he’ll kill them.

There was no escape.

The tears streamed down his face, yet a strange sense of calm washed over his senses. One thought above everything else seemed to anchor him.

Even if he had to sacrifice his soul, he would do it. Zach would do anything to protect his friends. Even if he had to suffer, even if he had to do things against his moral code…

I would do it.

For them.

And so, all he could do was cry this night away. He wasn’t supposed to do that, but he couldn’t stop himself. It only reiterated his weakness.

So what.

He was weak.

His tears were hot. His cheeks became damp. He pushed his face into the cushion of the sofa. He sobbed.

Alone.

Terrified.

Come morning, he would act like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t spent the night crying. He would go to school, laugh with his friends, eat dinner with them, and smile with reassurance. Tomorrow night, he would go. He would go to this address and meet Falcon. The man would blackmail him, somehow, someway – and Zach would do whatever he wanted.

For them.

Maybe his tears would soften the heart of some deity. Would they hear his cries? Maybe his powers would resurface just long enough for Zach to overpower Falcon.

Or maybe not.

No matter what happened, he would endure – for his friends, he would endure.

There was no safety in the shadows.

Keep reading –>