Page 282 of Psycho Pack

"Old habits," he replies simply, taking the cigar into his fingers and studying the glowing end.

His demeanor is setting me on edge. It's as if he's not only expecting to die today, he's looking forward to it. Welcoming death with open arms like an old friend. Why else would he be wearing his uniform? Were all those traps just meant to let him know where we were in the mansion?

He's never been afraid to die.

The only thing he fears is shame.

"We wanted to save the best for last," I say, keeping my shotgun trained on his chest as Wraith moves to flank him. The jazz continues to play from the phonograph across the room, the gentle melody a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air.

Our father gives a dry chuckle and carefully puts out his cigar in the crystal ashtray. "And I suppose you think you've won?" he asks, his voice carrying that familiar condescending tone that used to make me flinch. "That Reinmich will have some glorious future under your leadership?"

"I have no interest in leading," I reply dryly. "But it can't be worse than it is now."

He looks up at me then, really looks at me, maybe for the first time in my life. His cold eyes study my face like he's trying to memorize it. Or maybe he's just now seeing me as a man instead of a disappointing child.

"You really believe that?" he asks, leaning back in his leather chair. "You think dismantling everything we've built will make the world better? More stable?"

"More stable for who?" I demand, my finger tightening on the trigger. "The alphas? The Council? What about everyone else who has to live under your tyranny?"

"Order requires sacrifice," he says simply, as if explaining something to a child. "Structure demands?—"

"Spare me the rhetoric," I cut him off. "I've heard it all before. But you know what I haven't heard?" I take a step closer, my voice dropping dangerously. "An apology. For what you did to us. ToWraith."

My father's eyes drift to where my brother looms in the shadows, his scarred face hidden behind his mask. "Apologize?" he echoes, as if he's mulling over the word. Like it's the first time he's ever even considered it. "To that thing?"

I bristle at his words, cocking my shotgun, but before I can respond, the general rises to his feet and I prepare myself for him to reach for the gun on his desk. When he doesn't, I watch as my father's lips curve into that familiar cruel smile.

"An apology," he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. "As a matter of fact, Iwillapologize... for not putting it down when I had the chance."

Wraith flinches and his blue eyes flash with pain.

"I thought it would be useful," our father continues, each word chosen precisely to inflict maximum damage. "A weapon to challenge you, to make you stronger. But in the end..." He waves his hand dismissively at Wraith. "Just another failed experiment."

My finger tightens on the trigger. "Shut up."

But he's not done. That cold blue gaze locks onto my eyes with laser focus. "But you..." he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Youare my greatest disappointment."

A laugh bubbles up from my chest before I can stop it. "That's the kindest thing you've ever said to me," I tell him, and I mean it. "Because it means I became everything you're not."

Anger and pride spark in his eyes at the same time. But before I can process it, his hand goes to one of the medals on his chest, his fingertips brushing against the embossed eagle.

"Then die knowing you failed," he snarls, pressing a hidden button.

The explosion rocks the study, sending us all flying. Books rain down from the shelves as smoke fills the air. My ears ring from the blast, but as I haul myself out of the twisted rubble, all I can think about is my brother.

When the smoke starts to clear, I spot him. He's got our father pinned against what's left of the desk, growling low in his chest, that massive hand wrapped around our father’s throat. Against all odds, the phonograph keeps playing, the soft jazz music warped and disjointed from the heat as the peak of the final song stutters on repeat.

But something's wrong.

Wraith's hand is trembling.

"Can't do it, can you?" our father wheezes out, that cruel smile still playing on his lips even as Wraith's grip tightens enough to turn his face crimson. "Still the pathetic, useless little whelp I found in the woods." He gives a bitter laugh that dries into a hacking cough, but the venom in his voice doesn't waver. "A monster with a conscience. Imagine that."

I watch the conflict play out in my brother's eyes.

The hurt.

The rage.