Page 73 of Desecrated Saints
Fighting. Shouting. Begging.
The sound of a zipper being unfastened.
Then, gunfire.
On and on and on.
I can hear myself sobbing on the tape as the bullets tear free, until the clip finally runs out. Eli attempts to rest a hand on my shoulder, and I automatically leap away. Pain scores across his face. I abandon the table, retreating to the safety of a corner, dreading the next moments of the tape.
You were right. She was definitely worth the investment.
I can see why my son has fallen so hard for you.
Or should I say, technically speaking, sons.
“Motherfucker,” Kade curses darkly. “He was there?”
I stare down at the office carpet, unable to answer. The sound of Kade’s footsteps feels like the approach of doom, until his fingers are clasping my chin. I have no choice but to surrender to him.
“You left this part out,” he accuses.
“I’m sorry, Kade.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he did this to you? Both of them?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it matters! What else don’t we know?”
Hudson lays a hand on Kade’s shoulder. “Lay off, brother. This isn’t helping.”
“All she does is lie, lie, and lie some more. Secrets. Omissions. Half-truths. What else are you hiding from us, Brooke? How many people did they make you kill?”
Kade shakes me hard enough to rattle my teeth. I have half a mind to punch him in the face and run. Anything to avoid facing the reality of my actions. I’ve only fed them strips, hiding the monstrous truth because I’m selfish. I don’t want to lose them again.
“We’re aware of twenty-eight targets over the space of four months, all deceased,” Hunter interjects. “The actual number is likely a lot higher. We estimate Patient Seven’s body count to be in the hundreds.”
I peel Kade’s bruising fingers from my arm. He’s frozen, an unreadable expression written across his face. The flash of judgement beneath his shock feels like a knife in the back.
“Not everyone should be saved,” I whisper tearfully. “Some of us can’t be brought back over that line once it’s been crossed.”
“This is such crap!” Hudson explodes, shoving Kade aside. “What you did in Blackwood doesn’t have to fucking define you. We’ve all been forced to do shit we’re not proud of.”
“Twenty-eight people,” Kade repeats.
Hudson rounds on him. “You killed my fucking mum. I don’t give a damn whether you wanted to or not. Her blood will always be on your hands. Who are you to judge Brooklyn?”
The fight drains out of Kade like a pin in a balloon. He scrubs a hand over his tired, bruised face, before managing to look up at me. Shame twists in the depths of his hazel eyes.
“He’s right. I’m sorry, Brooke. I had no right to say that stuff.”
I lift my shoulder in a shrug. “I did those things. Me.”
“Patient Eight did those things.”
“What if we’re one and the same?”
Closing the distance between us again, Kade takes my face in his hands. Despite our audience, the rest of the office falls away. All I can see is the pain and desperation eating away at him, attempting to tear a new chasm between us.