Souls Unfractured (Hades Hangmen, #3)(86)

Feeling his heart race, I raised my head and lay over his chest to meet his eyes. Flame had been staring at the cloudless sky, but when he felt me move, he looked to me. He was troubled.

Lifting my finger to run across the worry lines on his forehead, I asked, “What is wrong?”

Flame’s lips parted and a slow controlled breath poured out. His arms threaded around my back and held me impossibly close. At first I did not think he was going to speak then, unexpectedly, he confessed, “I’ve killed before.”

I froze, and pulling my eyebrows down, I stated, “I know. You killed Brother Moses.”

“But I’ve killed a shit ton more. A shit ton, Maddie.” His eyes flicked away, then looked back. “And I’ve liked it. I… f*ck… I like it. I like killing. There’s just something in me, Maddie, that wants to kill. That has to. I can’t imagine it ever going away. I think… I think all that was done to me as a kid made me need to kill.”

Dropping my hand, I pulled myself further up his body, and said, “But only bad people. Yes? You only need to kill the ones that do bad things?”

Flame shrugged. “It’s always our—the club’s—enemies. Men we use to get information. People that f*ck the club over.” His chin nudged in my direction. “People who f*ck with you.”

My stomach turned at the slightest thought of taking a person’s life. Flame’s hand touched my face, his gaze searching mine. “What are you thinking, Maddie? Your face has changed but I don’t know what your expression f*cking means.”

Sighing, I responded with the truth. “I cannot imagine taking someone else’s life. I know it is the way of the Hangmen; Mae and Lilah have explained this to me many times. But… I do not know. I do not know that if it came to it, I would have been able to take Brother Moses’ life. I do not believe that it is within me to kill another human being, no matter how deserved. I suppose… I suppose it makes me wonder what is within you to actually go through with it. What goes through your mind to want to do it?”

Flame was silent for many long seconds. The arm remaining on my waist increased its grip, then he whispered, “Him. Every time I kill, I’m f*cking killing him. I see him in place of them. I f*ck them up. I hack them to f*cking pieces with my knife, but I’m only seeing him. Every time I kill, I kill him in my head... for my mama... for Isaiah… for me… for what he turned me into. For what he f*cking did to me in that cellar.”

And just like that, my heart clenched on receiving his confession. At the pain he must harbor in his heart, caused by the man he thought he could trust. Stroking my hand through his hair, I said, “You are a good man, Flame. You were dealt a bad hand.”

He shook his head. “I’m f*cking not, Maddie. I’m a killer. Deep down I like to kill, because of him. I’m as f*cked up as he is. I like to cause people pain.”

“No,” I argued, but Flame froze beneath me. “Flame!” I whispered louder.

When his eyes slowly turned back to me, he asked, brokenly, “What if he is there tomorrow?”

And my heart broke again. Flame reached up and held onto my wrist, and he elaborated, “What if we get to that f*cking house tomorrow and he’s there? What if he’s still in that f*cking house? Still f*cking living and breathing like nothing ever happened? Still f*cking going to that bastard church? Not even caring about the shit that he’s done? Not caring what he made me into?”

Flame’s eyes had grown impossibly wide. He swallowed hard. And then I knew. I knew that he was awake and fretting, because he was terrified. Although he did not show the emotion on his face or in his voice, I knew that real fear was coursing through his veins. And I realized that it was probably the first time in many years that he had felt this particular emotion. He was Flame from the Hangmen. He was the brother most feared by their enemies. The one that cut people up with his skillful blades.

But right now he was scared.

I tried to imagine how I would feel if Brother Moses were to suddenly walk out of the trees, at this very moment. I could feel shivers accosting my body, just at this brief thought. But for Flame, in the morning, his tormentor may very well stare him in the face. And he was frightened. Flame, my strong huge protector, was terrified at the very thought.

“Shh…” I soothed, as Flame’s breathing became erratic. Then I offered, “I am here for you. Also, AK and Viking are here with you, because they want to help you. You will face him, and you will conquer the hold he still has over you.”

Flame glanced away. “In my head I’ve killed him a million times. The men I’ve killed for the club, the blood I’ve spilled on these f*cking hands has all been his. But I don’t f*cking know if I can actually kill the cunt, in the flesh. That f*cking house, his face… that f*cking cellar hatch.”

“Then do not,” I replied. “Ending his life does not have to be the goal of this trip. We are going so you can claim back control of your life. To confront the evil that caused such hurt you. To then leave it all in the past.” My hands held his face tightly, turning him to see me. Swallowing, I added, “So you can have a future with me. So we can begin new lives. Happy ones… lives filled with love and each other.”

“Happy ones?” Flame queried, his voice threaded with emotion. I nodded, fearing that if I spoke I would break down in tears. Then crushing me to his chest, he admitted, “I don’t ever remember being happy.”