Nicholas's POV

Confined to a psychiatric hospital, I intently followed my younger brother's wedding through a livestream. Suddenly, a man, covered in blood and completely naked, burst into the venue and began furiously bowing in front of my brother.

“Cameron, you've already messed up my face and clothes. I’m no longer a threat to you. Please, don’t lock me in the psychiatric hospital again. I swear I’ll stay far away from Kylie.”

My brother’s bride, Kylie Langford, was furious and ordered people to hit Cameron dozens of times.

"Trevor’s always been the careful type. He grew up leaning on others, but he’s got the kindest heart I’ve ever known. And you? You really went and did this to him? I must’ve been way too soft on you. Let me make one thing clear. Someone as cruel and twisted as you has no place in this family."

Right then, the whole wedding came to a stop. They shoved Cameron into a car and sent him off to some monastery to repent.

The next time I saw him, his face was covered in bruises, his chest looked caved in, and all ten of his fingers were twisted.

He didn’t even look like the same bright and cheerful guy who used to visit me.

I was furious. I forced the hospital director to sign my discharge papers.

Whoever hurt my brother was going to pay!

——

When I pushed open the door to our house, I found our mother lying motionless on the bed.

My brother was dead, and Mom had gone to confront Kylie.

When Kylie heard the news, her face was filled with disbelief.

Standing next to her, Trevor suddenly smiled.

He slowly pulled out his phone. “Cameron’s dead? How could that be?”

Trevor tapped the screen with his fingertip and added, “That’s odd. The video I just received shows him fast asleep.”

In the video, my brother lay peacefully, his pale face casting shadows from his eyelashes, as though he might wake up at any moment.

Furious, my mother shoved Trevor aside. “My son is covered in wounds, lying in a morgue, dead with no explanation. You’re the ones who killed him!”

Kylie suddenly shot to her feet, her face contorted with rage. “Enough! Cameron begged for mercy, and now he’s dragging his mother into this performance?"

She scoffed as she continued, "You’re all the same, aren’t you? A real family of liars. So convincing it’s disgusting!”

Leaning back against the leather sofa, Trevor sneered. “Mrs. Knight, how you’re acting now makes Cameron look bad.”

Kylie gently dusted off her sleeve and turned to the bodyguards at the door.

“Throw them out.”

So, my mom was thrown outside and broke both her legs.

As she told me everything, I pulled back the white cloth covering my brother’s face, expressionless.

Cameron's face was torn with cuts and bruises. His chest had collapsed inward, and his limbs were twisted at impossible angles like a butterfly crushed underfoot.

Behind me, Mom was quietly crying, her voice shaking as she murmured, “It must’ve hurt, didn’t it... when Cameron died?”

My name’s Nicholas Knight. I’m his twin.

Cameron was the smart one. Bright, quick with a smile, always knew what to say.

Me? I kept to myself. I didn’t smile much, and I didn’t talk unless I had to.

People said my stare made their skin crawl, like something was wrong with me.

Nobody wanted to be around me. They called me a freak—a psycho.

Except for Cameron.

He’d hand me his last piece of candy, his eyes lighting up as if he’d just pulled off the biggest heist in the world.

“Nick, is it sweet?”

I reached out and brushed his cheek. His eyes were closed tight.

He was never going to see me again.

Funny thing is, that wasn’t the first time I lost him.

I still remember the year that got me thrown into the psych ward.

The school board director’s son decided he wanted Cameron for himself. Thought he could take what he wanted.

One day, a bunch of them jumped him on the street and dragged him into an alley. He panicked and took off running, fast as hell.

I followed. Quiet. Real close. They never even knew I was there.

When my brother finally made it out of that alley, he stopped and caught his breath, thinking he’d gotten lucky. Thought maybe they didn’t chase him.

Cameron never looked back.

So he didn’t see me standing behind them, covered in blood.

That night, the moon was full. I didn’t go home.

There was a massacre at the school board director’s house.

When the police arrived, they stood frozen in the doorway, unable to believe what they saw.

And there I was, right in the middle of it all, soaked to the bone in blood.

Nicholas's POV

Smiling, I counted the candy wrappers my brother left me.

They claimed I was sick, so they confined me in a psychiatric hospital. The windows were sealed shut with iron bars, resembling prison cells masquerading as treatment. Every time Cameron visited, he pressed his face against those cold metal rods, his eyes crinkling like crescent moons.

“Nick, the peach blossoms by the road? Full bloom today!”

Even when I stayed silent, he never stopped talking.

He’d fill every visit with stories, joy, and dumb little things that made him laugh, like he was trying to drag me out of that place with words alone.

The last time I saw him, he had that same dumb, bright smile.

“Nick, I’m getting married! On my wedding day, I’ll have Mom livestream it for you. Make sure to tell me if I look sharp in the tux!”

But before the vows were even finished, he was gone.

I snapped.

Right then, I went to the hospital director, wrapped a restraint strap around his neck, and didn’t let go until he signed my discharge papers.

Anyone who touched my brother was going to pay for it.

I’d make sure every single one of them died.

...

After handling the funeral arrangements, I came home with Cameron’s urn clutched in my arms.

At that moment, the front door swung open with a violent kick.

Trevor entered, his arm intertwined with Kylie's as she walked confidently in high heels.

A smug grin spread across his face.

“Well, well,” he said with mock surprise, “if it isn’t the dearly departed Mr. Knight?”

Kylie’s eyes flicked to the urn in my arms, her expression faltering just a little.

But when she got a good look at my face, the softness vanished.

“Cameron, really?” Kylie snapped. “You’ve sunk this low? Pulling a stunt like this to squeeze out some sympathy?”

Trevor leaned into her, laughing like the whole thing was some sick comedy he’d seen a hundred times.

“All Kylie did was send you to a monastery for a few days. And what did you do?” Trevor said with a mocking grin. “You hurt the master and come dragging back with a damn urn like you’re some tragic victim.”

He jerked his chin at the urn, sneering like it was beneath him.

“What is this, huh? You gonna use this pathetic little box to sucker Kylie into showing up at some fake funeral?”

He lunged forward and reached for the urn. “Come on, let me see. What trash heap did you fish this out of?”

I stepped aside without a word.

He lost his footing and stumbled, barely catching himself before hitting the floor.

“Cameron!” Kylie snapped, her voice sharp and cutting like a slap. “How long are you planning to drag this charade out? Faking your death wasn’t dramatic enough—now you’re even pushing Trevor too?”

Trevor rubbed his ankle, feigning wounded pride, but a smug glimmer flickered in his eyes.

“I know Cameron’s still holding a grudge about the wedding. Kylie, please don’t blame him. It’s my fault. All of it…”

Kylie’s face hardened, her tone turning cold. “Cameron, apologize to Trevor. Now.”

I stood there without flinching, my grip steady on the urn cradled in my arms.

Mom, still in her wheelchair, rolled herself in front of me like a wall, her voice erupting with fury.

“Get out! You’re not welcome in this house!”

Kylie’s face contorted with anger.

She stormed over and grabbed my wrist, her fingers digging in. “So this is what passes for parenting in the Knight family? This is how you raised your son? If you still won’t admit you were wrong, someone get in here and drag him out. He doesn’t return until he learns how to act like a decent human.”

I yanked my arm free and gave her a slow, cold smile. “Fine.”

Honestly, I had been wondering how I would find the people responsible for my brother’s death. It turns out I didn’t need to go looking. They walked right through the front door.

Kylie blinked, caught off guard by how easily I gave in.

I walked over to the altar and gently placed the urn down. My fingers traced the photo's edges, resting on top—Cameron’s face frozen in a bright, innocent smile.

Just like when we were kids, he would shove a piece of candy into my hand, his grin beaming with warmth and sweetness.

As I turned to leave, Mom reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Nick,” she said my name softly, her voice laced with reluctance.

I rested my hand over hers and gave it a light pat.

She let out a long, heavy sigh and slowly let go.

“Go.”

I gave her a slight nod and followed Kylie out of the house without another word.

Trevor was already sitting in the front passenger seat.

The second I climbed into the back and closed the door, he piped up like a whiny kid.

“Kylie, something’s in my eye.”

She leaned close to him without hesitation, blowing gently toward his face. Their noses nearly touched, and for a second, their breath mingled like they were the only two people in the world.

Nicholas's POV

They acted like I didn’t even exist, completely forgot I was sitting in the back seat.

After Kylie leaned in and blew into Trevor’s eye like they were doing some corny rom-com bit, he shot me a glance. Smug as hell. Like he thought he’d won something.

I kept my head down, calm and quiet, pretending not to notice.

The car tore down the winding mountain road, every turn taking us closer to the monastery.

And with every mile, something old and violent started to stir inside me. That bloodthirsty part I’d been keeping buried for years.

Because it was them, they were the ones who killed my brother.

Right then, the radio turned on, filled with static:

"Emergency notice: A highly dangerous patient has escaped from Clearridge Psychiatric Facility. Citizens are advised to remain vigilant..."

I glanced up at the two of them in the front seat, still chatting, still completely clueless.

My lips settled into a slow, quiet smile.

Once they dropped me off at the monastery, Kylie said nothing. She turned the car around and drove off without a glance in the rearview.

She didn’t even notice how the abbot’s face went pale when he saw me.

The iron gates slammed shut behind me with a deep, echoing bang.

Then they came—cigarettes hanging from their lips, grinning like wolves that smelled blood. A few of them looked me up and down like I was meat on a hook.

“Well, well, look what we got here,” one of them said, smirking. “Our little stray. What’s wrong? Missing your brother already?”

“Didn’t get enough last time, huh?” another added, voice low and greasy. “No worries. We’ll make sure you leave good and satisfied today.”

The third one cracked his knuckles and nodded toward me.

“What’re you waiting for? Strip. You know how this goes.”

I kept my head down, not moving, not flinching, just listening to their footsteps draw nearer and their breathing grow heavier.

My whole body locked up, muscles tight as wire, ready to explode.

Seeing I wasn’t cooperating, the guy in charge sneered and pulled a long leather whip from his belt.

“You filthy little shit. Guess we gotta beat the fight outta you again, huh?”

The whip hissed through the air, and I caught it mid-strike.

He froze, just for a second. That was all I needed.

Then his face twisted with rage. “You got a death wish? You think you can fight back? I’ll beat you to a pulp!”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

I yanked the whip hard, dragging him straight toward me. Before he could react, my hand shot up swiftly.

I slapped him. Again. And again. And again.

More than a dozen strikes, each cracking across his face like a gunshot.

The sound echoed through the courtyard—sharp, brutal, and utterly satisfying.

One of the others laughed mockingly, “Third, you can’t even handle one pretty boy?”

Then Third turned around, his face so swollen it looked like someone had jammed a pig’s head onto his shoulders. He hacked out a thick mouthful of blood and broken teeth, the spit hitting the dirt with a wet slap.

The laughter died right there.

The courtyard dropped into dead silence, like someone had flipped a switch.

And then the abbot, who’d been quiet this whole time, suddenly shrieked, voice shaking like he'd just seen a ghost.

“Cameron? Wasn’t he dead?! He was supposed to be dead!”

Everyone went still. Eyes wide. Breathing stopped.

And one by one, they looked down.

Their gazes landed on the shadow under my feet, clear as day in full sunlight.

“Holy shit—he’s alive!”

The guy in charge spat and snarled like he was trying to shake off his nerves.

“So what if he is? Just some weak little freak. What’s he gonna do?”

They came at me with those cocky, cruel grins, fists clenched and cracking, hungry for a fight.

I kept my head down and didn’t move a muscle—except for the slow curl of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

They had no clue.

I wasn’t just some skinny kid with issues.

I was born with a kind of strength that didn’t make sense. Hell, how else do you think I managed to wipe out the entire school director’s family back then?

Violence wasn’t just something I learned. It lived in me. Ran through me like blood.

And if it hadn’t been for my brother, I wouldn’t have held back all these years.

But now?

Now I didn’t have to hold back anymore.

...

The screaming didn’t stop for three days straight.

That was the thing about this old mountain monastery—no matter how loud someone cried, begged, or died, the sound vanished into the woods. Like a stone thrown into a lake. No echo. No ripple. Just gone.

The whole place was a smoldering wreck when Kylie showed up to get me. Blackened timber. Burnt earth. Smoke still rising.

I was crouched by what used to be a wall, barely clothed, my skin streaked with soot, my fingernails caked with dried blood.

My face must’ve looked like something out of a nightmare.

Kylie didn’t even flinch. She just looked at me disgustedly and tossed a coat at my feet.

“Disgusting,” she said, like I was something she’d stepped in.

As Trevor brushed past, he leaned in close and whispered in my ear, venom dripping from his words, “Shame you didn’t burn to death.”

I lowered my head, trembling in the back seat of the car.

There was still dried blood on my sleeves from those men.

The way they knelt and begged for mercy had been hilarious.

Especially when I took the wooden mallet and crushed that rotting lump of flesh beneath it, inch by inch.

Men of ‘spiritual discipline,’ weren't they? Then they should have been free of all earthly desires.

How wonderful.

Now, every one of their bones was shattered just as beautifully as my brother’s.

Reflecting on how they screamed in the flames, I smiled quietly.