<h2>Chapter 22: Confessions</h2>


    Time crawls like a dying man through the room. I feel my heartbeat trip with every creak or howl of wind beyond these walls.


    The door at the end of the room eases open and light from behind stretches along the hardwood floor toward my knees. I strain to see Eli but there is no one. Nothing but space. Then I hear a cry of pain from behind and crank my head around. The tuft of an arrow pokes out of the shoulder of the man holding me from behind. His grip on me loosens and I jump to my feet, leaping forward. But strong fingers wrap around my arm, yanking me back.


    “Mmphhh!”


    I try to scream for Eli to run. To leave. But to my dismay, the silhouette of a man enters the room. Bow—drawn tight. The further I am dragged back, the closer he comes. I am Ivans’s lure and Eli is biting down hard. A match swipes to life beside me and lights a lamp on the wall. Beside it stands Ivan, holding my arm tight. Eli’s bow aims at my brother’s head and my heart stills. But he holds the arrow back. Waiting.


    “Drop your weapons and remove your mask or die where you stand,” Ivan demands.


    Half a dozen torches light up the room, revealing dozens of men and their guns waiting above. For two miserable minutes, the two standoff. One twitch of Eli’s fingers and Ivan will die but in that moment Ivan’s men would fire. So I wait, tied and gagged. Wait to see if, at the end of this day, there will be anyone left alive who I love.


    Then slowly, carefully, Eli lowers the bow. He drops it and raises his hands in surrender.


    “Now your swords.”


    Eli drops his swords. I watch in dismay as a guard walks up from behind with a pair of cuffs. But what happens next catches everyone by surprise. One moment the guard is pulling Eli’s hands behind him, and the next, Eli holds him at knifepoint, using his body to block the impending doom of dozens of bullets. Eli backs away, heading for the exit. Hope soars in my chest. Get out of here and run. Run Eli, far, far away.


    But something is wrong. Ivan stands calmly beside me; his grip even loosens on my arm. His unconcern leaves my brain clambering. Jaxon. Where is Jaxon? A new silhouette appears by the door, standing between Eli and freedom.


    “Take another step and I will shoot you in the back of the head.” Jaxon’s voice rings out into the room.


    Eli freezes.


    Then the gun clicks as Jaxon readies his pistol.


    “Release the hostage and drop the knife.”


    Three tense seconds pass before Eli removes his knife and the man scrambles away. Then a shallow thud follows as his blade falls to the ground. A steady rising terror swirls inside me as cuffs slap Eli’s wrists from behind and Jaxon forces him forward. Ivan hands me off and I am shoved to my knees once again.


    “Tell me your name!” Ivan orders.


    Not a man in the room moves. Our audience above watches with bated breath.


    “No?” Ivan nods to Jaxon and Eli’s knees hit the floor. “That’s alright. I doubt introductions will be in order.”


    I watch as Eli, kneeling, holds his shoulders back and head high as my brother rips away his mask. He does not flinch when the goggles are torn free, the scarf yanked down, or his hood shoved aside. He stares my brother down. Fearless. Proud.


    But Ivan meets the look with one of his own and I see the muscles in his jaw go tight. If ever I thought I had witnessed fury in my brother’s eyes before, it was a mere taste of what exists now. The bloodlust there shakes me to the bone.


    “You.” Ivan speaks the word as one might spit on a grave. “Turning my own sister against me. Is there nothing you won’t do?”


    Ivan’s fist rams into Eli’s face with all the power of a lightning bolt. Eli’s whole body snaps to the side with the impact, but the pain flashing across his face is not from Ivan’s punch.


    Pride vanishes in an instant and he raises apologetic eyes to me. “Seeing you two here, side by side, it is obvious now. I am sorry.”


    I see it then. A surrender in his eyes, the kind coming only from defeat. Eli is giving up. No, no, no. I try to stop the tears from coming, but it is like holding your hands up to the sky to stop the rain. A sob escapes my chest and my body sags toward the ground.


    Ivan’s eyes flicker between us and the muscles in his arms wind tighter, his fist squeezing until it explodes into Eli’s face again. Then again. And again. I let out scream after muffled scream for Ivan to stop, but he shows no signs of stopping. If anything, he hits harder. With every desperate, muffled plea, Ivan’s anger spikes like pouring fuel on a fire.


    He’s not stopping. He’s going to kill him.


    The realization dries up my tears in an instant. There comes a certain kind of clarity when raw desperation meets understanding and the two become one. I lower my chin, looking over my shoulder at the man standing behind me. His hand grips the back of my neck tightly but his eyes are glued to Ivan. I shift into a crouch and kick a leg back, throwing all my weight into it, aiming for his knee. It makes contact and then gives way as I hear a crack. He howls and the grip on my neck falls away.


    One. Two. Three leaps forward before I reach them. I throw my body in front of Eli, cramming my eyes shut and readying for Ivan’s fist. Two heartbeats pass before I dare crack my eyes open.


    Ivan stands before me panting, his knuckles red and swollen. I meet those furious blue eyes with every last ounce of strength I have even if my whole body shakes like a leaf. Tears stream down my cheeks, past the gag, and my arms ache from the rope binding my hands behind me.


    The moments drag on as Ivan’s breathing evens out. Then his eyes narrow and he lowers himself to a knee to meet my eyes. He tugs the gag down. Fear and caution steal my voice.


    “You know this man,” he says.


    It’s not a question—he wants me to confirm the statement.


    “Yes.” I rasp between chapped lips.


    “No. You don’t know him.” He lifts his chin, face twisting in disgust at Eli behind me. “You think you do, but you don’t.”


    “He saved my life three times over. The only reason I reached this city was because he protected me. I would be dead if it wasn’t for Eli.”


    Ivan grows visibly agitated at my words, his eye twitches at the sound of Eli’s name.


    “He is using you.”


    “No.” I start to cry again and this time, I concede to the tears. “That is what everyone else has done to me. He has never taken anything from me. Never demanded anything.”


    Ivan is silent—his face—expressionless.


    “He’s not here to hurt you,” I beg Ivan. “He’s only here to protect me. The horn was supposed to be my call for help. Why else do you think he came so quickly?”


    “Perhaps to repeat the past,” Ivan says in a cold tone. “This is not the first time he has used a horn like that to betray his friends.” This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    “Whatever he’s done in the past, he is not that man anymore.”


    “Oh really?”


    Ivan turns his attention to Eli and a chill crawls down my spine. He pulls out a knife and reaches behind me, shoving me aside as he yanks Eli up and presses the knife to his throat. Tiny beads of blood form along the silver edge.


    “Is she right? Have you changed, Red King?” He bites the name off, venom dripping from every word.


    At first, Eli returns the look, glaring daggers at Ivan. Like an immovable rock against an unstoppable force, neither budge. Neither blink. Then it fades, and the fight in Eli’s eyes dissolves, eventually falling away entirely.


    But Ivan continues to dig the knife deeper until blood crawls down Eli’s throat, his arms tightening as though it takes every last ounce of strength to keep the razor edge from plunging deep.


    “Ivan!” I push myself up. “I didn’t tell you about Eli because I was afraid. I was never going to leave you. I only wanted to see him again without you hurting him.”


    My words snap Ivan from his fixation and he lowers the knife, shoving Eli away as one might toss aside a dirty rag.


    His eyes meet mine; an inhuman glint sends my skin crawling. “I won’t hurt him. When his head rolls tomorrow morning, there will be no pain. Which is far better than he deserves.”


    My heart stops. I don’t breathe. Don’t move. I can’t. His words ring in my mind, wrapping around and around like chains, squeezing tighter and tighter. My worst fear stands before my eyes. The very thing I struggled so hard to prevent is now a reality. And yet, disbelief hits me like a backhand.


    “What?” I finally croak the word.


    Ivan stands, turning his back. “Take him away.”


    “No. Stop! No!”


    But Jaxon yanks Eli to his feet. No one hears me. No one cares. I am invisible. Inconsequential. Completely and utterly powerless.


    “I love him.”


    The words, while spoken softly, stop the entire room. Jaxon freezes and Ivan slowly turns around.


    “I love him,” I say again, louder. “If you kill him, I will never forgive you. Whatever you think you gain by killing Eli, you will lose me. I will not be your sister, and you will never again be my brother.”


    Ivan’s brows come together, torment wrenching his expression. Sorrow twists at the edges and then, to my dismay, morphs into bitterness.


    He turns to Jaxon, “When you’re done, escort Natasha to her room.”


    The world keeps spinning but I am not on it. Left behind, floating in space. Powerless. Helpless. Hopeless. All those months of practice with the sword and bow and it means nothing. I cannot even prevent the man I love from dying at the hands of my brother.


    I turn as Eli gets pushed through the exit. He catches my eyes and I see agony there. It wretches my heart and I watch everyone file out of the room in a daze until I am left alone on the cold floor. Drops of Eli’s blood splatter the wooden boards before me and my tears join them in a grim kind of watercolor.


    I’m not sure how much time passes before the pressure holding my wrists behind me suddenly disappears. The muscles in my arms twitch and spasm in their newfound freedom, but the bruises on my wrists still show the indentation of the rope on my skin.


    Jaxon crouches beside me. I know it’s him—not because I look; I make it a point not to—but because of the silence. I have never been so grateful for Jaxon’s avid, indifferent silence as I am right now. I despise hollow apologies and polite lies, and to the man’s credit, he has never been the type to hand those out.


    He walks me out of the building, not so unlike how he walked me in. Only now it is dark—the sun is long gone and the coldness of night warns winter is near. On our way to the castle, we pass the prison and I find myself staring. Eli is in there.


    Jaxon asks, “Do you want to see him?” One last time.


    He doesn’t say the second part, but I know that’s what he means. It is why he offers. He knows this is my last chance to see Eli alive. Fresh tears spring up, and my vision swims over to Jaxon.


    Never have I seen so much sympathy on a human face before. It’s different from when Jol looked at me behind those bars. Jol’s pity made me feel small. But with Jaxon it feels like he’s bending down and sitting beside me in my misery. I feel bad for all the times I called him a cyborg under my breath.


    I don’t trust my voice so I nod instead. He leads me over to the prison and takes me through the entrance and down the long hall lined with bars. One of the guards unlocks a cell.


    On the back wall, shackles hold Eli’s wrists over his head and clamp around his ankles. The door to his cell swings wide, but he resigns his eyes to the floor.


    “Eli.”


    His head snaps up at the sound of my voice. Bruises and black eyes remind me of that first night under the moonlight outside the raider pit. And like before, I can still make out his shock through all the damage.


    I wipe my cheeks and put on a brave smile but my bottom lip quivers. I sink my teeth into it, holding it still as a metallic taste blooms in my mouth. Eli sees it and offers me a smile of his own, only his is much more convincing. Always the strong one.


    I step close and raise a hand to his bleeding face. He leans into my touch, sending the chains clanging as he strains against them. I hold his face with both hands and stare into those beautiful almond-shaped eyes. They hold mine easily, as if the rest of the world turned to dust and there remained only him and me. I wrap my arms around him, tight. He buries his face into my shoulder and I struggle to keep my traitorous breath from catching. He smells like the woods—like freedom—and like everything I took from him.


    “I’m sorry,” I whisper.


    “Don’t apologize. None of this is because of you.” His chest rumbles with the words and I feel them deep in my heart.


    But it is, isn’t it? I am Ivan’s sister. If I were anyone else, none of this would be happening.


    “Some part of me knew from the moment I first saw you who you were. Whose sister you were,” he says quietly. “But I convinced myself otherwise. I knew if it were true, I would have to let you go. But in the end, I couldn’t.”


    Let me go? I pull away. “And what about me? Don’t I get a say in any of this?”


    He looks startled. “Of course.” He hesitates, uncertain eyes searching my own. “Did you mean what you said back there?”


    I raise my chin. “What do you think?”


    He considers me for a moment before his eyes flick down to my lips. Then slowly, carefully, he eases his mouth toward mine before pausing. Waiting.


    I close the distance, snatching his offering without a second thought. His kiss is soft and sweet—but sad. Like a goodbye. My heart breaks at the realization. A wave of grief slams into my chest and I choke out a sob. He pulls away, anguish filling his eyes.


    “Don’t cry. You’re strong. You’ll get through this. Remember what you said to me? Whatever happens to me, it isn’t your fault. Accept the things that are beyond your control, let go, and move forward.”


    No.


    I can’t. I won’t. He’s not dead. He’s here, in my arms, isn’t he? Breathing. Living. I cannot give up. I refuse. Not while there is still breath for both of us in this world.


    “No.”


    He looks at me, brows furrowed.


    “I will not give up.” I lean forward, whispering for his ears only. “I will get you out of this. I swear, I will find a way to save you.”


    Worry blossoms across his face and he opens his mouth to speak, but Jaxon clears his throat.


    “Time to go.”


    I reach up for another kiss. This one is stronger, harder. Filled with conviction.


    “Miss Volkov.”


    Jaxon’s firm grip appears on my shoulder. Despite my confident words to Eli, panic claws at the edges of my mind. I give Eli a desperate squeeze as Jaxon pries me away.


    Eli’s gaze holds mine as we leave until we turn the corner out of sight. Outside, Jaxon releases my arm and we walk in silence.


    How will I get Eli out of this? It’s not like before in the raider pit, when everything was laid out so perfectly. Keys. A rope. A clear escape to freedom. If I fail this time, it’s not my life on the line, but Eli’s.


    As we reach my room in the castle I stop in the doorway. “How long until…until they…” The question gets stuck in my throat and thankfully, Jaxon doesn’t make me finish.


    “Sunrise. They’ll wait just before the bell tower marks six o’clock. After that, it’s done.”


    It’s done. As if killing a man were some kind of task to be completed. An item on a list to be checked off. Something simple and quick. Thoughtless. A swipe of the pen or nod of the head. For all the civility and structure behind these walls, the end result isn’t too different from a raider pit.


    “I’ve told the guards to get you anything you need.”


    “You aren’t staying?”


    Jaxon pauses as if the question caught him off guard. “Your brother needs me.” He hesitates, “but if you want, when I am done, I can come back here to you.”


    I don’t know my plan yet, but something tells me I need Jaxon. Something about the way he watches me when he thinks I don’t notice. Not that he can be convinced to betray Ivan for my sake, but there is something there. An attraction. Maybe fondness. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I can use it.


    “I would like that.”


    His brows raise a hair before he bows his head in a nod and leaves, shutting the door on his way.


    I count the passing minutes with increasing dread. My pacing wears the wooden floor thin and my frazzled mind loses its train of thought every time I hear the bell tower sound off. The large room now feels small and confining. Not too far off from the tiny cell Jol kept me in despite the large bed and polished mahogany furnishings. The vase of yellow flowers by the door mocks me.


    When I knock on the door, the lock clicks open and two guards with rifles greet me. To my dismay, they are good soldiers. Competent. Polite. Like Jaxon clones. They keep their distance and repeat their orders: keep me here, keep me safe, no visitors.


    By the time the bell tower strikes five o’clock in the morning, a plan has formed in my mind but Jaxon is still gone. And I need him. I only have an hour. Placing a hand on the back of the desk chair, I try to calm my hummingbird heart. I cannot wait any longer. It’s now or never.