by H M Wolfe
Doctor Philip Winters. Those three words were forever branded in the young man's brain. They were like a stigma, a symbol of shame, of his evil nature. Brennan's prisoner saw in his hesitation as the perfect chance to escape and took advantage of it, running to the wooded area bordering the mansion's grounds.
The goddamn fool would be lost after the first twenty-five yards, tripping on every root and being slapped by every branch. He, on the other hand, Gabriel's rescuer thought, knew every inch of it like the back of his hand. Protectively wrapping an arm around the shaking young man's waist, Brennan was guiding him into the house, when he saw them.
There were ten, maybe even more, surrounding an opponent, who was fighting like a whole legion of demons, kicking, spinning, hitting, slashing with the agility of a panther, doubled by the grace of a dancer and the finesse of a craftsman. Despite his superior skills, the fighter was outnumbered, and it was only a question of time until he was overwhelmed and forced to surrender or killed.
At first, Brennan couldn't see the face of the one who was fighting with so much bravery, but the moon cast its weak light on him, making him gasp in shock. There, in the middle of the enemies who surrounded him like a pack of rabid dogs, was Ardan, his brother, and idol. Without thinking very much, he shoved Gabriel through the front door, let out a sharp whistle, signaling his presence, then started to run to his secret hideout in the small woods.
Brennan's plan to get the attackers' attention succeeded, as most of them abandoned their initial target and started to chase him. Although being familiar with the terrain was a huge advantage, he couldn't use it, because the mercenaries also knew the surroundings, cutting off all routes to the shed. With satisfied, evil grins on their faces, they formed a tight circle around him, pulling out knives and other sharp weapons.
Already worn out from the short, but intense clash with Philip and the chase through the woods, Brennan found it increasingly difficult to fight the attackers off, his movements becoming less and less coordinated and considerably slower. He didn't see the first slash coming, or the second, third, or all those that followed.
At some point, everything became confused. The noises muffled, the colors, faces, and images blurred, and he was in the middle of everything, staring at the blood staining his clothes and wondering who it belonged to. The last thing Brennan remembered was someone pushing him to the ground, and a body protectively covering his, then darkness descended over the whole scene, and he welcomed it with opened arms.
CHAPTER 23
"G ods governing over the Universe, hear my humble prayer. Take all the pain of body, mind, and soul away from this boy and let him heal. If you want to punish someone, let me be the one, because I have so many sins to pay for. Please, Gods of the Universe, let me be the recipient of your wrath, the one who carries the burden. Hear the prayer of this sinner; don't turn your face away from this kid who's done nothing wrong."
The words were spoken in a low, whispered, desperate voice, the sound it made reaching Brennan, cradling him to sleep every time. He liked to listen to that soft, gentle tone, speaking to him or reading; it was like the lullabies his mother sang in his very young years, it induced the same sensation of well-being.
Many other voices kept him company, for what appeared to him to be a short while but could have been a long time. Brennan even heard once, a young boy asking somebody in a tiny, worried voice if he was ever going to be alright again. The question came as a massive surprise for the young man, who was perfectly healthy as far as he knew. Sure, he'd slept a lot over the last days or so, but that wasn't something the child should have worried about.
All that sleep was good for him, Brennan thought, as it allowed him to recharge after that long series of nights with nightmares and that intense psychotic episode at the mansion, which had left him completely drained. However, he felt rested and ready to pick things up from where he'd left them before taking that well-deserved break, the young man decided, opening his eyes and looking around, a bit surprised.
The room didn't look familiar, and Brennan wondered where he was, becoming slightly disturbed. However, he tried to find a reasonable explanation and also to identify the place by searching for useful clues. His eyes widened in a mixture of shock and surprise when he spotted a man's silhouette kneeling at the foot of the bed, chin propped on the laced fingers of his hands.
The noises Brennan made while shifting in bed, weak as they were, woke up the man from his slumber, and he jumped to his feet, an immense joy shining in his turquoise eyes.
"Hey, kid," he said in a soft, gentle voice, "it's time to rise and shine. You've been greatly missed by a lot of people out there, especially the kiddies. You sure know how to make things more interesting," he tried to joke, smiling weakly.
"Ardan, have you been crying? And you look like you haven't been sleeping in a very long time. What happened?" Brennan cast a suspicious look in his older brother's direction.
"Don't mind me, I'll be fine," the blond spoke in a reassuring voice, brushing a rebel strand of hair off of the other's face. "It's you that we have to focus on. You need to recover your strength; the little ones are waiting for you to retrieve the kites and bring back the stray balls. I'm too old for that job."
"You are a lousy liar," Brennan said in a half-amused-half-melancholy voice. "I was a master of deceit, but Uncle Harris still saw past everything and knew when I was crying at school because I was being bullied. He used to wrap me in his strong, warm arms, and I felt loved and protected."
"I remember him very well, unlike so many other people from my early childhood," Ardan smiled to the distant memory. "He always picked me up and dusted my clothes when I tripped because I ran too fast. Then he'd kiss the tip of my nose, making me laugh. Uncle Harris used to tell me that I was going to be as brave as the knights and kings from the stories he read at bedtime."
"When...How did you find out?" Brennan asked in a hesitant voice, letting the sentence unfinished. "And I'm very sorry if..."
"No, I'm the one who is sorry for not realizing earlier," Ardan's voice sounded pained. "The resemblance was there; all I had to do was to look closer. You could have been spared of a lot of pain if I had."
Ardan sat on the edge of the bed, taking his brother's hands between his own. After a few moments of silence, he started to tell how Tarquin dug up information about Brennan's family, so they'd know who to explain to that he was in the hospital with multiple stab wounds.
After spending long hours in front of the computer, the blond didn't find anything, so he suggested searching through the young man's things, in a last-ditch effort to find some clues about his past. Ardan and Seymour offered to help, and that was how they came across the box and the letter. At that point in the story, the man stopped, lightly squeezing Brennan's hands between his own.
The next second, he flinched, an apologetic look in his turquoise eyes, which weren't hiding behind his glasses anymore, allowing the other to see right into his soul. Raising a hand, Ardan tentatively brought it close to his younger brother's face, wanting to caress it and wipe away the lone tear sliding down Brennan's cheek.
Instead, he curled and uncurled his fingers, one by one, just like the day of the confrontation, the same pained expression in his eyes. Slowly, the man lowered his hand, putting it back on the bed. Seconds later, with an impulse he couldn't understand or resist, Ardan hugged his younger brother close to his chest, slowly rocking him back and forth.
"When I found out about you, I was angry with our father for hiding such essential information from me, so I called him, only to be sent straight to voicemail. I was searching for some answers, so I went to his headquarters, only to be informed by Connelly that Father couldn't be reached while on a trip to Scotland."
"Scotland? What is he doing there? And who's this Connelly guy you mentioned?" Brennan asked, frowning against his brother's shirt.
"Apparently, someone claimed you were seen there, at different moments in different locations, and t
hey had photos to prove that. Connelly said our father cried when he saw those pictures, and he was convinced the man appearing in them was you. Connelly has been with our father since before I was born. He was the only one there from the start, except for Father and Uncle Harris."
"That person was right. You must have skipped the part in the letter where your twin brother was mentioned, maybe it was him in the photos," Brennan spoke in a lively, almost enthusiastic voice.
"I...I don't remember him at all," Ardan shook his head, sadness and defeat creeping into his voice again. "I was five when they killed mom and kidnapped me, big enough to have clear memories of people and places, but the brutality of what happened caused me to forget a lot, which persisted for more than twenty years."
Brennan's heart ached at his brother's confession, and he wished never to have brought the twin into the discussion. Ardan had a tough life as it was; he didn't need to be reminded of the events that had shaped his destiny in such a cruel way. Besides, there were a lot of other pressing matters the man wanted to bring up, a lot of things, depending on the answers he was going to get.
Brennan didn't want to talk about the lab of horrors and the time he spent there, afraid that Ardan and their father would reject him. However, he had to; it was the only way to warn them about Philip Winters's identity and his real, cold, twisted, sadistic nature. The man doubted that Gabriel had talked to his fathers about the attempted rape the beast had subjected him to. And then there was also the other problem, namely Fabian.
"A penny for your thoughts, little brother," Ardan broke the silence. "I know you have a lot of questions. Don't be afraid to ask. That's why I'm here, among other things," he softly spoke.
"Daniel's father...what kind of man he is?" Brennan dared. "I only met him a couple of times, and he was always in the company of the others. I never got the chance to talk to him and get to know each other better."
"You'll have plenty of opportunities to spend time in Uncle Sebastian's company; this is his house. If it weren't for him and Mister Grant, both of us would have been six feet under by now. The guy has a heart of gold and is fiercely protective of everyone in the family." Ardan smiled.
"Like father, like son." Brennan nodded in approval, a small smile playing on his lips. "You said that we would've been dead if it wasn't for Daniel's father and his lover, what do you mean?"
"They were the first ones who came to the rescue, literally saving our lives. In his younger years, Uncle Sebastian was part of a US Army elite task force, and Mister Grant was a gang member and a very skilled fighter. They still have it in them."
"The Blooms seem a very tight-knit family," Brennan continued cautiously, shifting in his brother's embrace. "What do you know about the relationship between Daniel's father and his brothers?"
"They love each other very much, sticking together through thick and thin, especially Uncle Sebastian, Uncle Thaddeus, and Aunt Willa. Fabian, their older brother, is somewhat cold and distant, but I'm not one to judge," Ardan said in a somewhat flat voice. "Despite that, he's Uncle Sebastian's idol, always was."
His brother's words were like a bucket of ice over Brennan, the confirmation of that sick bastard's words. The bloody pervert really could do whatever the hell he wanted; his siblings' love protected him. And there was, of course, the mysterious great-uncle Alastair, whose name was mentioned with the utmost respect by everyone.
He was a man of unrivaled power and influence who would destroy anyone who dared tarnish the reputation of his family. Brennan didn't want to make Ardan take sides in the war between him and his brother's family by choice, or to hurt Daniel, who'd trusted him from the very start. For a split second, he felt trapped but realized that the problem had a straightforward way out.
Philip Winters. More likely, the twisted-minded fucker and that monster Fabian were partners of some sort. He would expose the so-call scientist, and the scumbag wouldn't hesitate to sell his associate out if it would save his own skin. It was about time he and Daniel talked, Brennan thought. It would be the beginning of the end for that beast, and he would enjoy every minute of the show.
CHAPTER 24
"H ey." Brennan waved his hand in Daniel's direction, a shy, heartwarming gesture. "How are you? Long time no see, and I missed you a lot. All of you." He gave Tarquin a bright smile.
"Hey, yourself." The black-haired man left his seat, giving the newcomer a warm, tight hug. "You, too, were greatly missed around here, especially by the kids, which was a huge, pleasant surprise. My beloved and I are beyond happy to see the triplets and Elian so emotionally attached to someone who is not part of our close entourage."
"I can't wait to see all of them, and tickle Elian until he completely surrenders." Brennan's face brightened, his voice enthusiastic and affectionate. "What about Gabriel? Did he and Philip move in? And if yes, what did they choose? I'd love to visit them on my way to The Base."
"Next time I come close to that son of a bitch, he won't come out of it alive," Daniel spat, balling his hands into fists until his knuckles turned white. "The bastard called me, breaking the engagement off. He had the nerve to blame us for it, saying that Gabriel is an immature, spoiled brat, which lets us control him."
"Goddamn pile of garbage." Brennan almost slammed his fist against the desk but stopped on time. "He thinks covering his tracks like that is a clever move, which will allow him to get away with what he did. Well, not while I'm still alive."
"Covering his tracks? Why, what did he do?" It was Tarquin's turn to talk. "I'm asking because I had a strange feeling about that guy from the start, so I ran a check on him but didn't discover anything suspicious."
"The sick bastard tried to...he assaulted Gabriel on the night of the attack, but he is too ashamed to talk about it. I think he's afraid that the two of you will blame him for the situation. And you didn't find anything on him because the identity he provided is fake." Brennan turned to Tarquin.
"What?! The bloody snake tried to hurt my son?" Daniel roared, raising from the armchair. "I will hunt that rabid dog down and kill him like the beast he is. Do you happen to know his real name?"
"Philip Winters. I could never forget it. Or his face, they are etched in my memory forever. I spent two years in that nightmare of a lab, subjected to horrible experiments designed to turned me into a killing machine. They almost succeeded."
Brennan recalled the horrors he'd witnessed during the time he spent in that hellish place, locked down in a small cage, like an animal, and forced to act like one. For the first time, the young man admitted out loud how scared he was, picturing the efforts he'd made to hide his true feelings.
Eyes tightly shut, head tilted backward, Brennan opened up to the two men, letting everything go, in an attempt to purge his soul. The pale faces, scarred bodies, and hollow eyes of the boys who shared his fate, their desperate pleas. The silence that followed, which was a thousand times worse—everything formed a vivid, terrifying picture.
Philip Winters was, by far, the worst nightmare of the poor souls trapped in that hellish place. A human-faced beast who enjoyed inflicting pain and seeing the defeat in the eyes of his victims. He was a devil of the worst kind, whose greatest pleasure was to torture the innocent, stripping their last shred of dignity and hope away from them.
Hot tears were streaming down Daniel's face while he was listening to Brennan's confession, his own memories of that particular corner of hell, and the horrors he'd experienced there resurfacing from the depths of his mind. Sensing his husband's distress, Tarquin moved closer to him, whispering soothing words in his ear.
"Turning innocent children into soulless, mindless killing machines weren't the only things those sick, crazy beasts who called themselves scientists did to us," Daniel continued his story in a broken, whispered voice. "Some of the boys, me included, got impregnated by those monsters."
"You mentioned it before, back when Quinlan...tripped and fell, but we didn't go far into it," Brennan whispered, pain, shock, and compassion m
ixed in his face. "How...how is it possible?"
"First, a cocktail of drugs designed to change our body from the inside was injected into our system. It facilitated the growth and development of an artificial organ called "the bag," that supported life in the same way a uterus did. Then, another combination of pills and injections induced another set of transformations to our bodies. Once the effect kicked in, we were impregnated."
"Goddamn bastards! I'll rip their black hearts out of their chests with my bare hands and feed them to the hounds of hell! Then I'll skin them alive and let them rot bit by bit!" Brennan sprang to his feet, starting to pace around the office.
"The beasts have already met their dark maker, namely Satan," Daniel started in a normal voice, then lowered it to a whisper. "Gabriel is Philip's half-brother, and the scumbag was probably aware of it. Worming his way into our family was probably only part of his revenge plan."
"Revenge for what? You were the one who suffered and were experimented on, not that sick fuck of his father," Brennan burst in anger.
"About four years ago, after another long five years, the House, with considerable help from Ardan, managed to take down those behind those horrible experiments and destroy the lab. While some of the bastards were sentenced to life in prison for their evil deeds, the mastermind, Philip's father, initially escaped. After concocting some more evil plans, he finally died by your brother's hand."
"Let him come then!" Brennan said defiantly. "I'll show him how alike Ardan and I are." He grinned.
"It was Caleb, your other, younger brother," Tarquin said, softly sighing when he saw the younger man's confused and somewhat pained expression. "I take you didn't know of his existence, so I'll fill in the blanks since I was the one who brought the subject up."
