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.

Nicholas's POV

We’d just pulled up to the house. I was about to enter the front door when Trevor stuck his foot in the frame like he owned the place.

“Cameron, you’re filthy,” he said with a fake-smile tone that didn’t match the look in his eyes. “You should clean up in the yard before coming inside.”

“The hose out back still works. I’ll send someone to give you a hand.”

Trevor's tone was soft and friendly as he spoke, as if he was doing me a favor, but his eyes held a sharp, cruel glint, like he was about to kick a stray.

It was the dead of winter.

Outside, water hit the ground and froze before it settled. If I rinsed off out there, I’d be lucky to make it through the night without catching a cold.

I turned toward Kylie, waiting for her to say anything, but she didn’t even look at me. Just kept walking like she hadn’t heard a word.

“Clean yourself up before you come inside,” she said over her shoulder.

Then the front door slammed shut behind her, loud enough to rattle the windows, locking me out like I was some animal they didn’t want tracking dirt across their floors.

I crouched by the old faucet, the metal so rusted it looked like it hadn’t been used in years. Before I could even turn the knob, three bodyguards circled me.

Same guys who slapped my brother across the face at his wedding.

They yanked the hose off the fire hydrant nearby, letting it coil like a snake between them.

“Don’t take it personal, Mr. Knight,” the leader said with a grin, his tongue flicking across his bottom lip like he was about to enjoy this too much.

A blast of freezing water hit me square in the collar, racing down my back like ice.

“Miss said to get into every crevice,” he added, twisting the nozzle. “She wants you squeaky clean.”

Upstairs, I saw the edge of a curtain shift just enough to catch Trevor’s silhouette behind it.

As soon as Kylie walked by, he tugged it shut and disappeared.

I blinked the freezing water from my eyes, my skin stinging like it had been lit on fire, and then gave a chilling smile.

Then, I shoved the high-pressure hose into their mouths, one after another.

When I walked into the freshly cleaned and bone-dry house, three brand new "fountain sculptures" were lying in the yard—faces bloated, bodies puffed up like overfed livestock.

Kylie wrinkled her nose and tossed me a towel.

She wrapped it around my wet hair with a gentleness that didn’t match the rest of her behavior.

“What took you so long?” Kylie asked, her voice light, as if nothing outside had happened. “I told you to just rinse your feet.”

She slid a steaming bowl of chicken soup across the table.

“Had the kitchen make this just for you. Go change and come back down. Drink it while it’s hot.”

Trevor’s eyes practically glowed with jealousy as he snatched up the bowl, grinning like the perfect little host. He brought it over to me with both hands, trying too hard.

But the second I reached for it, the bowl tipped.

Boiling chicken soup spilled straight down the front of me.

“Ah!” Trevor yelped, stumbling back with all the drama of a bad soap actor. “Cameron! I was trying to be nice, and you intentionally knocked the bowl into me! You burned me! I get it, you hate me. Kylie, I’m done! I’m leaving! I won’t come back to make you uncomfortable ever again!”

Kylie rushed to his side like he’d been shot, grabbing his perfectly fine hand and clutching it like he was bleeding out.

She didn’t even glance at me, not at the soup soaking through my clothes or the angry red burns starting to rise on my skin.

She didn’t notice, and worse, she didn’t care.

Instead, she whipped around, her voice sharp. “Cameron, apologize to Trevor!”

At that moment, something struck me in the chest, cold and heavy.

So this was what my brother dealt with, too? Being genuine, being kind, and having it fed straight to the damn dogs.

Without a word, I turned and lunged toward the front entry.

One sharp beep, and the lock on the villa door clicked shut behind me. No one was leaving now.

Kylie spun around, her voice rising. “Cameron, what the hell are you doing?! Have you completely lost your damn mind?”

She pointed at Trevor like she was talking to a misbehaving kid.

“Apologize to Trevor! Right now!”

My face darkened, eyes bloodshot.

Slowly, I began walking toward them.

At that moment, Trevor, still clinging to Kylie’s arm, suddenly widened his eyes in terror.

He pointed a trembling finger at the television on the wall, too startled to speak.

“You… You’re…”

I raised a finger to my lips, whispering to them, “Shh. The real show is just beginning.”