After retrieving the snack and drinks—Arkus marched into the bathroom building with two sodas and a massive billowing mound of cotton candy.
During the time Vance sat alone beside the water fountain, he’d heard numerous people come and go, traveling into the bathrooms and occasionally stopping to ask if he was all right. Now, he still sat there, resting his forehead on his fist and glaring downward in silence.
Arkus waltzed into the tunnel-like enclosure, slowing to a stop and spotting him there.
Vance raised his head and met his eyes.
“I didn’t know you were here,” Arkus said.
“I came with Bill and Max,” Vance replied shortly, returning to his task of glaring angrily into the crackled pavement beneath him.
Arkus observed him. “Ah… y’okay?”
Vance said nothing, merely tapping his temple.
Arkus nodded with understanding. In the time he’d known Vance, he learned that the PI suffered from the occasional random headache, but right now—judging from the look on his face—it seemed as if he was more disturbed by his headaches than usual.
There was a pause. Arkus bit his lip for a moment, then shuffled forward and awkwardly placed his drinks and snacks down beside Vance. “Watch these for me—I’ll be right back.”
Vance gave him a nod, and Arkus vanished into the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later, and rather than collecting all his snacks to leave, he scooted them over, plopping down beside the PI and giving him a curious look.
Vance turned to him. “What…?”
“That’s what I was gonna ask,” Arkus replied, grabbing his cotton candy. “What’s up with you? Why’re you sittin’ alone in here?”
“Headache.”
“Aye, I figured as much… I just thought there was more to it than that.”
“Why?”
“Well… because… usually, when you have a headache, you just shake it off and act like it’s not there,” Arkus laughed. “You never run off and sit it out. Not usually.”
Vance sighed deeply, making a sideways nod in agreement.
“Sooo… what’s up?” Arkus pestered.
Vance hesitated, wondering where to begin, or if he even wanted to. He turned and squinted interestedly into Arkus, who returned his look with a fairly genuine curiosity, perking his brow and expecting an answer.
“I just can’t stand it here,” Vance grumbled.
“’Cause of the fireworks?”
“Yes… because of the fireworks.”
Arkus looked away, nodding and pondering for a moment. Then, he ripped off a large chunk of his giant pink cloud of cotton candy, offering it to him.
Vance stared at it, then at him, his expression entirely blank.
“C’mooon,” Arkus grinned, nudging it closer to him. “You know you want some.”
After a few seconds of vacant glaring, Vance let out a dry laugh, taking the chunk of cotton and releasing another sigh.
“M’kay… I’m not gonna pretend I’m any good at playing therapist, and I know you probably don’t like doing that little dance, either,” Arkus told him. “So… I’m just gonna tell you something that might make you feel less… rubbish. Okay?”
Vance faced him again, this time with a more caustic expression.
Arkus chuckled and continued. “I think you’re the coolest father on the planet.”
Vance cocked his brow at him.
“And y’know what? I would kill to have a dad like you,” Arkus added, jabbing a finger at him. “I never had any kind of trauma, really… but I have some vague idea of what’s going through your head right now. Every time I lose a boxing match, I feel like I’m lower than dirt. It feels… like… emasculating. Y’know what I mean?”
Vance slowly nodded in response, still remaining quiet.
“So… whenever you feel something like that, you oughta remember,” Arkus advised. “You are a bloody, freaking, badass . You’re not even a cop, and you’re workin’ your ass off to bring down a serial killer. You’re really protective of Ari, and you even took me on, for some reason. Not to mention taking on Lumis and Max. You’re honestly just like Ari. You take on way more than anybody else would bother to—and, at the risk of sounding like a gushing little five-year-old-I have to say. I’ve been lookin’ up to you since I met you. I dunno for sure what I wanna do with my life, but you give me a pretty good idea.”
There was a deep silence following his words, Vance leaning back against the wall and giving Arkus a long, strange stare, feeling suddenly spotlighted. Quite honestly, he felt pleasantly surprised that he saw him in such a light, though he didn’t expect such a deep and longwinded statement, and he hadn’t the faintest clue of how to reply.
Arkus grinned and smacked him on the arm. “And you ain’t gotta say anything. I know you’re not the talky-feely type. Just take what I said for whatever it’s worth. However you feel right now—it’s not a real reflection of you at all. It’s really not.”
“Well…” Vance stopped for a moment, examining his chunk of cotton candy and searching his mind for a response. “I… appreciate that. Thank you.”
“No problem. And listen—fair disclosure—as long as I’m around, you’re gonna end up hearing some blunt random ramblings from me,” Arkus told him. “Me and Jax, that’s just how we talk. We just blurt out whatever we think needs saying. So, just remember—if I ever say something wrong or stupid—I’m definitely just trying to help. I know I don’t always get it right, but still. I’m an idiot with good intentions. That’s how Tammy puts it, anyway.”
“No, you… you hit the nail on the head this time,” Vance conceded. “Pretty much read my mind, there…”
“Hah,” Arkus laughed, revealing another wide smile. “You’re rubbin’ off on me.”
“Apparently,” Vance muttered, managing a smirk.
Arkus smirked, taking a huge bite of his pink cotton and moaning with pleasure. “Mmm… oh my Christ , that’s good…”
Vance let out a soft snicker, eyeing his own chunk of candy and taking a small bite of it. “Yeah. It’s decent.”
They both munched on their candy quietly for a few seconds.
Then, Arkus squinted at him thoughtfully, swallowing his food and clearing his throat.
“I’m just curious, and feel free not to answer if it’s crossing a line,” he said. “But, with the fireworks here… I just… I thought you had amnesia or something? How is it…?”
Vance nodded and took another bite of cotton. “I do… but that’s not something that can erase the instincts you learn on a battlefield. Sometimes, once in a random blue moon… if I hear the right noise, or see the right sight… it all just comes right back. Can’t help it.”
“Oooh,” Arkus nodded in response. “Gotcha.”
“Yeah. It’s not the same as Ari,” Vance mumbled. “Hers was more… vivid. A lot clearer than mine ever was.”
Arkus slowly stopped chewing, turning and giving him a perturbed look.
Vance met his gaze again, reading his expression and instantly realizing that Arkus was entirely in the dark regarding this particular topic. Evidently, Ariella had never told him the full truth of her childhood—and now, Arkus was staring at him intensely, expecting an explanation.
“It’s a… long story,” Vance sighed heavily. “I’ve worked with Bill for a long time now… and there was one night when he sent me to go scope out a house that was allegedly a cook house for some wanted dealers in town. One of them was a suspect in a Dallas murder, and we were working with the Dallas police to find the guy. I didn’t find him there, but… I ended up hearing gunshots next door. When I broke in, I found this psychotic lady holding Ari at gunpoint right after she had killed her own husband.”
Arkus’s expression slowly darkened.
Vance took a deep breath and continued. “Those people were Ari’s foster family… and the wife apparently just lost it that night. Ari nearly died right there. But… I shot the foster mother, took Ari to the hospital, and…”
“You adopted her?” Arkus breathed. “Just like that? Just… on a whim?”
Vance nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know why, but… I was just compelled to. She had to go back into state’s custody for a little bit while I got all the legality worked out… but she came home with me a short while after.”
“Wow,” Arkus exhaled. “What made you wanna adopt her?”
Vance shrugged, the memories of the fateful evening slowly seeping into his mind in hazy, broken fragments. He couldn’t recall the entire evening, but he certainly remembered how he’d felt during it.
“She was completely broken up, and I told her everything would be all right… and… I didn’t wanna be made a liar. I wanted to make damn sure everything was all right for her. So… I did.”
Arkus raised his brows, breathing out an astonished laugh. “You are bloody amazing.”
“No… I just empathized,” Vance murmured profoundly.
Arkus read him closely. “Did you lose your parents too?”
Vance sighed. “No idea. I can’t remember that far back. It’s a total blank to me.”
“You jus… you just said you empathized with her,” Arkus uttered. “So… I dunno… maybe…”
“Maybe,” Vance nodded. “Seeing as how I didn’t have any parents waiting for me when I came home from Iraq, I probably did lose them at some point. Just don’t know how or when.”
“Did you ever look ‘em up? You could probably find your entire family online now.”
“Nah. I don’t need that,” Vance told him firmly. “They either died, or they left. Either way, nothing would come of me looking for them. What’s important is the here and now.”
“Really?” Arkus uttered in disbelief. “After all this time… you never got curious? You never decided to look into it just to find out?”
Vance went quiet, pondering on this and realizing something he rarely ever thought of nowadays. He never recalled the details, never understood how he knew—but something deep inside of him knew for certain that he’d never find his family if he looked.
“It feels like they’re gone,” Vance told him solemnly. “It’s felt that way for a very long time. I think that means they are dead, and they have been for the majority of my life. And… I can live with that. I’ve got my own family now. I don’t need to dig into old wounds for no reason.”
Arkus rested his arms on top of his knees, leaning back against the wall and slowly nodding.
“Okay… makes sense,” he mumbled seconds later. “Same reason I don’t bother trying to fix things with my father anymore. Wouldn’t make a difference if I did… and I don’t need to. I’ve got better people in my life now.”
Vance turned, eyeing Arkus intently and thinking of his encounter with Angus Faulkner weeks ago. He’d never brought it up before—as that day was filled with far more pressing events than his simple conversation with Angus Faulkner—but now, it seemed a topic worth visiting.
“I talked to him once, y’know,” Vance informed.
Arkus whipped his head to the side. “What…?”
“Your father,” Vance clarified. “After Moreno Brunelli was killed, did your father ever call you? Did he ever text you, or anything?”
Arkus shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t heard a word from him since he told me I wasn’t his son anymore. Why?”
Vance sighed disdainfully.
“Why?” Arkus repeated, leaning closer. “What happened?”
Vance hesitated before replying, running a hand down his face and fidgeting in his sitting position. “Well… keep in mind, I had good intentions when I did this. I might’ve… lied to him. Told him you went missing, and your truck was found on the outskirts of town.”
Arkus stared blankly at him for several seconds—then exploded with laughter.
Vance shot him a strange look.
“Oh… that’s hilarious ,” Arkus chuckled. “I bet you seriously screwed with his head.”
“Well… he didn’t seem to care,” Vance mumbled grimly. “I just wanted to see how he’d react… and he reacted exactly how I didn’t want him to.”
“Whaddid you do that for?” Arkus wondered.
Vance stared, releasing a deep cloud of breath. “I needed to know if there was any possibility of him letting you come home. Turns out, there wasn’t. So…”
“So you took me in,” Arkus surmised. “Oh, Christ… you’re like a secret superhero.”
Vance gave him a sarcastic sort of stare. “I’m really not.”
Arkus snickered. “Whatever, Hero.”
Vance let out a brief laugh, finishing off his cotton candy and licking his fingers.
“Ah, hell… I gotta head back,” Arkus said, checking the time on his phone. “Ari’s been waiting for me this whole time.”
Vance nodded, thinking along similar lines regarding Lumis and Max.
“The fireworks are done,” Arkus informed, grabbing all his snacks and reaching his feet. “I think you’re good now.”
“Yeah… okay.” Vance stood and straightened out, his headaches now gone without a trace, making him feel incredibly light now. “Good talk.”
“Aye. Good talk,” Arkus agreed, grabbing his hand and giving it a single shake. “And, if you ever wanna talk again—just come hunt me down. I’m damn good at talking.”
“No kidding,” Vance chuckled. “Be careful driving home. It’s supposed to rain later.”
“Aye, you too. Seeya at home.”
Arkus spun around and carried his goods off toward the edge of the tunnel-like enclosure. Vance watched him go, sliding his hands into his pockets and feeling an odd sense of peace, which he certainly hadn’t felt a short while ago.
“Hey,” Vance called after him.
Arkus spun around at the edge of the entryway. “Yeah?”
“Just so you know,” Vance said with a smirk. “I’m proud of you. And your dumbass father should be, too.”
Arkus stared at him for a moment, then grinned. “Well… thank you for making my night.”
Then, Arkus gave him a salute and marched out of the building. Vance laughed and waved him off, turning and preparing to leave as well.
The moment Ariella spotted Zane approaching from down the hill, her heart felt as if it had entirely frozen over.
The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with him—but she stifled every ounce of anxiety that fought to arise, gulping and showing absolutely no reaction to Zane as he drew near. She simply stared at him, silently praying that Arkus would return soon.
Zane met her eyes, giving her a casual smile and wave.
Ariella—not knowing how to respond—simply waved back at him, not quite managing a smile.
Zane took this as an invitation to get closer. He sighed and sank into the grass, sitting down beside her and crossing his arms over his legs.
After a split second, he turned his head and gave her a long, deep stare.
“So,” Zane said, facing away and gazing over the field in the distance. “Awkward.”
“Yeah,” Ariella replied with a nod.
Zane scoffed out a laugh, turning and eyeing her again. “How have things been on your end?”
Ariella swallowed, focusing on the field rather than the boy beside her. “Just… the same, pretty much. Nothing new.”
“Oh… I have lots of new stuff going on,” Zane smirked. “But… unfortunately… nothing I can tell you.”
Ariella felt her stomach churn at hearing this, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
“Where’s Lucy?” she asked, hoping to change the topic and stall for time.
“Don’t know,” Zane shrugged, swatting loosely down the hill. “Somewhere down there.”
“You just left her?”
“Yeah. She’s a big girl. She’ll live.”
There was a deep, tense pause between the two of them. Ariella could feel him stealing numerous invasive glances of her, but she pretended not to notice, merely gazing down the hill as if the dispersing crowds in the field had her captivated.
Growing increasingly uncomfortable, she quickly became fed up, finally mustering the nerve to look directly at him. “What do you want?”
Zane met her eyes, both of them glaring with a profound blue stare—Ariella’s shining with cerulean fire, Zane’s as cold as ice.
“To talk,” he replied. “I never got the chance to talk to you one-on-one like I wanted to.”
“And why did you want to?” Ariella asked, fearing she knew the answer.
“Because you’re awesome,” Zane replied with a smooth, charming smile. “Is that so wrong?”
Ariella stared incredibly at him, falling speechless for a moment. Zane was acting as if nothing had ever happened—as if he never tried to attack Tammy, never held a knife to Jaxson’s throat, and never started the altercation that got Arkus’s hand sliced open.
Part of her wanted to yell, to curse and to bite his head off—but the smarter side of her knew to avoid a confrontation if she could, as leaping into fights had played out fairly poorly for her in the recent past. So, she took a deep breath, assessed her thoughts, and spoke again.
“Why did you do that?” Ariella asked him forwardly.
Zane blinked. “Do what?”
“You know what,” Ariella insisted. “You just blew up on all of us.”
“No… no, I didn’t,” Zane told her. “I blew up on them . Not you .”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ariella stated. “They’re my best friends… and they were yours , too. Everything was fine until you messed it all up.”
Zane let out a grave sigh, his charming smile suddenly vanishing. “I just needed to see if they could handle it… and it turns out, they couldn’t.”
“Handle what?”
“Handle me being myself.”
Ariella scoffed and turned away, fighting to keep her temper down.
Zane leaned closer, gazing into her intensely. “You know how I feel. I know you do.”
“No—I really don’t,” Ariella griped. “Because nothing would make me wanna cut one of my friends’ throats.”
“Really?” Zane murmured interestingly. “Not even if one of them betrayed you somehow?”
“That’s different—that’s not a friend ,” Ariella shot back. “That’s an asshole .”
“Okay. So… if it was an asshole, then you’d be okay with cutting their throat?”
Ariella groaned and ran her hands down her face, utterly frustrated. “What do you want from me? You want me to say I’m just like you?”
“No—I want you to realize you’re just like me,” Zane told her. “Because you are .”
“Oh my God—fine. Sure. Lemme just play along,” Ariella grumbled. “Enlighten me. How in the hell am I just like you?”
“Because… you have a hunger inside,” Zane said ominously. “You have this deep, primal drive to take action… and that steers everything you do now. That’s something normal people just can’t comprehend. Normal people, people who grew up in safe and normal places… they’re just… content with normality. But we’re not. We have heart … and we’re a lot more like hunters than we are prey.”
“Okay, fine—I can see that. I can even agree with that to some extent,” Ariella replied. “But there’s one major difference. I use that drive to be productive , not destructive .”
“Really?” Zane chuckled, shaking his head at her. “I watched you attack that fat bitch when she started yelling at Julian… and I watched you pop the detective’s wife in the mouth when she started talking shit about your father. You’re really not that different from me.”
“The protester lady—and Marissa—both of them gave me a reason ,” Ariella argued. “Both of them deserved it—but Jax didn’t deserve what you did, and neither did Tammy, and neither did Arkus. None of them did.”
“Says fucking who?” Zane retorted. “They’ve all been stifling me and treating me like a fucking special-needs sidekick since the day I met them. From my perspective, they did deserve it.”
“Then your perspective is fucked ,” Ariella snarled. “They don’t deserve to have knives pulled on them just because they fucked up your ego.”
“Are you kidding me? Did you not see Tammy buck up to me? She’s the one who started—”
“She just wanted you to give a shit about Lucy!”
“ Why? ”
“ Because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re fucking friends with someone! ”
Ariella leered into him, positively fuming.
Zane merely returned her stare with an icy, unfeeling apathy that might’ve even put the Cutthroat Killer to shame.
“I don’t care,” he said, his voice much softer and darker now. “Sorry, I just don’t.”
“Well—that’s not our fucking problem,” Ariella spat. “And it doesn’t give you the right to take it out on us, either. I know what it’s like to go through hell when you’re a kid—but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to just take it out on everyone else around you all the time.”
Zane opened his mouth to reply—then suddenly lost his words, staring fixedly into Ariella as if she had changed colors before his very eyes.
“Who told you that?” he hissed, his voice instantly morphing into in a faint, angry whisper. “Who told you I went through hell as a kid? Where’d you get that from?”
Ariella felt a terrible shiver coast down her spine, realizing she’d said too much—but she maintained her heated glare with Zane, showing no visible reaction.
“Lucy told me,” Ariella lied.
“No, she didn’t,” Zane glowered, looming closer to her. “Because I never told her .”
“Does it matter? I know what childhood trauma looks like in a person—I can spot that shit a mile away,” Ariella ranted defensively. “I bet Lucy figured it out, too. Maybe you didn’t have to tell her. Maybe she figured it out on her own.”
“No—she didn’t—because she’s fucking dense ,” Zane snapped. “Lucy’s not even smart enough to maneuver around this fucking park without getting lost. There’s no way she figured it out—because she’s fucking retarded .”
“She loves you ,” Ariella breathed in disgust. “And you treat her like she’s worth less than a goddamn dog. That’s why Tammy got mad in the first place—that’s why this whole thing happened, because you treat all your friends like dog shit.”
“I treat them like what they are ,” Zane corrected her, hovering dangerously close to her face now. “None of them are worth a damn—they’re all stupid fucking dipshit college potheads with no fucking purpose in life, no drive, no anything . You’re the only one who’s on par with me. You’re the only one with any kind of drive, and any kind of worth—but you just fucking refuse to see it for some reason.”
“No—I just don’t see people as worthless, especially not my friends,” Ariella growled. “That’s why I can’t see things the way you do. And I’m glad I can’t.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ari…” Zane’s hands slid down his face. “Do you not see how worthless everyone is? Everyone just moves through the motions pointlessly—go to school, go to work, go home, get married, get divorced, and die. But you—you’re one of the people who just break the mold, and you started trying to use a podcast to catch a fucking serial killer . You rose up and started lashing out against everyone around you who deserved it. You’re standing for something, grabbing life by the horns and finally being yourself, just like me—and nobody else ever does that. How can you not see what I’m seeing?”
“Zane—there’s a difference! ” Ariella yelled. “I actually care about people! But you don’t! ”
“No—you try to care about everyone ,” Zane griped in response. “But I don’t waste my time. I only care about people who’re worth caring about.”
“Like fucking who? ” Ariella gasped in disbelief. “Because Lucy worships the ground you walk on, and you don’t give a good goddamn about her!”
“Lucy is a waste of functioning fucking organs,” Zane rumbled. “She can’t think for herself, can’t make her own decisions, can’t do anything without me or Tammy telling her to. You wanna know why I don’t care about her? Because there’s nothing to her. She’s completely empty and unbelievably shallow. She’s the exact opposite of you.”
“Why do you keep doing that?” Ariella fumed. “Why do you keep putting me on a pedestal like I’m the same brand of psycho as you?”
“Because you fucking are ,” Zane said, revealing a sneering, toothy smile. “You’re the only one like me… with all that drive, and anger, and passion… and fuck , that’s a goddamn turn-on. You’re actually worth my attention.”
“Oh, wow. Yay me,” Ariella snarked. “I guess I’m supposed to be honored by that…?”
“Let me ask you something, Ari,” Zane said, leaning on his hands and inching steadily closer. “If you’re lost in a desert, and you find an oasis, what do you do? Drink from the oasis, or carry on dying of thirst?”
Ariella felt a deep, horrible nausea creep up on her yet again, glaring into Zane as if he was the most revolting thing she’d ever laid eyes on.
“Okay… so… lemme guess,” she muttered. “I’m the poor pathetic loser who’s wandering around thirsty, and you’re the godly oasis savior who’s gonna take pity on the thirsty loser?”
“I am your oasis,” Zane told her smoothly. “You’re never gonna find someone else who’s exactly like you.”
“M’kay… so… I was right,” Ariella concluded, slowly leaning away from him. “In your little metaphor… I’m the pathetic loser, and you’re the big hero. That’s real nice. Really makes me wanna date you.”
Zane launched forward and planted his lips onto hers—Ariella’s heart could’ve stopped.
She reeled back and delivered a hard SMACK across Zane’s cheek—and making his blond bangs fly to the side.
Zane lost his temper instantly; he dove onto her and grasped her by the throat, forcing her to the ground and mounting her.
Ariella fought and struggled—him tightening his grasp—
“You’re mine ,” Zane grunted breathlessly, leaning down and grinning wickedly.
THUMP.
A thick boot collided with the side of Zane’s skull—his head jerking violently to the side as he toppled over and rolled over the grass.
Ariella choked and sputtered, her vision distorted—and she saw a figure leap over her.
Two drinks and a mound of cotton candy were rolling down the hillside—and Arkus launched himself onto the ground, possessed with rage; he threw a rapid fire of punches, his face twisted in fury and his stringy brown fohawk completely screwed up—and Zane scrambled back and began throwing punches as well—
Ariella scuddled to her feet, blowing her hair from her eyes and watching in shock.
At some point, both boys managed to regain their footing—Arkus grabbing Zane and slamming him into a tree—his knuckles smashing into Zane’s face—
A second after—Zane ducked down and tackled him—landing on top of Arkus and punching him squarely in the throat. Arkus let out a grunt—and he summoned all his strength and threw the blond to the side—leaping briskly on top of him and raising his fist.
Zane’s hand coiled around a rock—and he reached up and bashed it into Arkus’s skull.
Ariella let out a horrid shriek.
Arkus’s vision exploded—everything falling dark around him—and Zane tried to push him off—lumbering over him just before—
WHAM.
Ariella delivered the hardest kick she could muster—sending Zane flying off of Arkus and tumbling rapidly down the grassy hill.
Arkus slumped awkwardly sideways, landing hard on his back as his eyes drifted shut, blood oozing from the side of his head.
Ariella hit her knees, watching as Zane fumbled down the hill and smashed into a small pine tree in the distance. She wrapped her arms around Arkus, glaring hatefully down at the felled blond, a terrible silence falling after the fight was over.
Zane slowly climbed to his feet, shooting a final, searing leer up at her before wiping his bloody face and limping away. He slowly wandered back toward the field, abandoning the scene and leaving Ariella and Arkus alone atop the hill.
“Arkus,” Ariella breathed shakily, her eyes watering as she adjusted her grasp on him, his head resting snugly in her arms. “ Arkus …!”
“Mn…” Arkus tried to open his eyes, only halfway succeeding, gazing up at her with a bleary, unfocused stare. “Fuckin’… wha’ ‘appened…?”
“Holy shit…” Ariella gasped, feeling utterly rushed and panicked, hugging Arkus’s head and not minding the blood smearing across her sleeve.
“M’fine,” Arkus murmured, his voice muffled in her bosom.
“Say awake,” Ariella exhaled frightfully.
“Where’d he go?” Arkus sputtered, shaking his head and forcing himself to sit upright. He blinked several times, wincing terribly as blood streamed down the side of his head. “Where’d he go? I’m gonna fuckin— aaagh .”
He hunched over, clasping his head and sealing his eyes shut.
Ariella watched him, placing a hand on his shoulder, her expression riddled with despair. She hated to see him hurt, and she felt thoroughly shaken, completely rattled to the bone.
She couldn’t believe Zane would go so far just to get his way, not only attacking her, but nearly killing Arkus as well, smashing a rock directly into his head…
Similarly, Arkus was primed with adrenaline, but his anger hadn’t yet subsided. He glanced around again, searching for his target and trying to ignore the splitting pain in his head and the blood trickling down to his neck.
“He’s gone,” Ariella mumbled.
“Oh… I’ll kill him,” Arkus seethed through gritted teeth. “I swear to God , I will…”
He turned and met her eyes, falling silent instantly.
Ariella’s visage was somber, completely deflated, her eyes glistening a saddened blue as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Arkus swallowed, his expression still stony with anger, though a sense of composure slowly began to return to him.
“Why’re you crying?” he uttered breathlessly, almost as if he had no idea that the side of his head was pouring blood.
Ariella shook her head, biting her lip and gently reaching out, timidly tapping her fingers to the open wound on the side of his forehead. Arkus inhaled sharply, and she examined the thick streams of crimson that now stained practically his entire left side, sniffing and gnawing her bottom lip even harder.
“Oh… no, I’m fine,” Arkus muttered, shaking his head and abruptly stopping, as the movement hurt immensely. “Don’t… I’m fine, don’t cry…”
Ariella’s chest ached more and more the longer she stared into the bloody mess. She choked out a sob, scooting closer and embracing him tightly.
Arkus returned the hug, placing a hand on the back of her head and resting his chin gingerly on her shoulder.
The two of them remained lost in their close embrace for a good long while, neither of them wanting to separate, to return to Tammy and Jaxson, to explain what had happened and to deal with the injury. More than anything, they simply wanted this—the deep, simple comfort they brought to one another after such a dark, horrible scare.
It seemed the Gate Keepers now had more to worry about than just the Cutthroat Killer.
Around the time Ariella and Arkus finally decided to find their friends and leave the park—Vance, Lumis, and Max were riding together in Lumis’s maroon four-door.
Max was fast asleep in the back seat, as it was now past his usual bed time. Lumis drove through the night in silence for a while, Vance resting his head on the passenger window, staring outside vacantly and trying to stay awake as a gentle sprinkle of rainfall spotted along the windshield. They would reach the old property that once belonged to the Hunter family before long.
Lumis stole a few glances of Vance, lost in deep thought. The two of them hadn’t spoken ever since Vance returned to their picnic blanket in the park, all of them quietly packing up their belongings and making their leave of Boomsday.
Though now, with Max asleep, Lumis felt that something needed to be said.
“Vance,” he spoke, finally breaking the long silence.
“Hm?” Vance mumbled, blinking himself fully awake.
“You could’ve told me,” Lumis muttered.
“Told you what…?” Vance yawned, straightening up in his seat.
Lumis glared at the windshield. “You could’ve told me you had an issue with the fireworks. I wouldn’t have asked you to go if…”
“Oh… doesn’t matter,” Vance disclosed. “It’s over and done with.”
Lumis sighed deeply, glimpsing over at him again.
“It’s fine,” Vance assured. “Don’t worry about it. How far is this place?”
“Not far now,” Lumis answered. “I think we’re almost there, but I’m not entirely sure. I’ve only been there once, and it was a long time ago. We’re looking for a fairly isolated entrance. It’s a rag-tag place on the edge of the property.”
“All right. What’s our intel on this place?”
“Ah… pretty much just what I’ve already told you. It’s always belonged to the Hunter family, but I haven’t been able to find the current owner. Probably abandoned the place… and the Hunters were actual hunters, just like I thought. Turns out there are still a few hunting cabins out there. I saw ‘em on Google Maps. The Hunter couple went missing forever ago, and they were last seen at their house on the edge of their property. That’s pretty much it.”
“You said you got an anonymous call about a homicide at that house, right? You showed up right after the Hunter couple disappeared.”
“Yeah. We scoured the property way back when, but we never found anything.”
“Okay. So… what could we possibly find now?”
“I don’t know. But if Cutthroat is a member of the Hunter family—or if he’s the one who killed the Hunter family—then he’d be well aware of this empty property,” Lumis informed. “And it’s worth mentioning that the GMPD has never actually gone there in search of the Cutthroat Killer before. So, it’s entirely possible that we might stumble upon the killer’s hideout tonight.”
Vance stared at him, glancing at the child in the back seat.
“It’s not a likely scenario,” Lumis added. “But, even if Cutthroat does turn out to be there, Max will be safe. This is a police vehicle, good locks, bulletproof shell and bulletproof glass. Nobody’s getting in it except me.”
“I still don’t like it,” Vance mumbled, glimpsing back at Max again. “We need to park away from the property.”
“Yeah,” Lumis nodded. “I planned to. There’s a twenty-four hour gas station about a quarter of a mile from the edge of the property. I already spoke to the manager of the gas station on the phone, and they told me they didn’t mind looking after Max and the car while we scope out the property up the road. I also told Hawkins where we were going, just so everyone knows.”
“Damn. You certainly planned ahead.”
“I’m not about to take any chances with Max here.”
“Good. We’re good to go, then.”
Lumis continued driving down the dark back road until he spotted a single building on the right side of the street, the tiny gas station with two pumps and a halfway-lit parking lot nestled along the side of the woods. Lumis parked near the entrance, stepping inside and briefly checking with the employee, who agreed to look after Max as planned. Lumis thanked him before marching off with Vance.
The two of them continued the rest of the journey on foot, strolling down the narrow street and searching every inch of visible road before them, seeing only an endless conglomeration of trees on either side.
Then, as Vance walked alongside Lumis, his eyes fixated on the road ahead of him, feeling a deep, strange sensation of familiarity.
“Stop,” he said suddenly, jutting his hand in front of the detective.
Lumis glanced at him, reaching for his pistol, but Vance sensed no movement or danger; his eyes scanned the road ahead, reading over every branch and every small opening between the trees, almost as if he could feel the entrance they sought.
Suddenly, his hound dog instincts seemed to kick into high gear—and Vance marched forward briskly without a hint of forethought, moving entirely on instinct and motioning for Lumis to follow. He walked with a hard stride, his head turned left the entire way, searching the darkened trees until he found exactly what he knew to be there—a round, wide opening in the trees, a twin pair of tire tracks stretching into the darkness of the forest, covered with dirt and gravel.
Lumis stared at the hidden driveway, then gave the PI an impressed look. “Hm. Well done.”
Vance barely heard him, staring intensely into the darkened driveway as his head began to throb with a dull, gentle ache. He gazed into the blackness for several seconds until Lumis smacked him on the arm.
“Well? Come on,” he urged, marching down the gravel pathway.
Vance swallowed, feeling the oddest sense of misplacement as he stood here, staring inside, feeling as if he’d dreamt of this very scene before. Nevertheless, he followed Lumis down the tire-marked pathway, and the two of them strolled through the woods for several minutes.
“How did you know which side of the road the entrance was on?” Lumis asked, their boots crunching along the gravel as they walked. “I mean, I already knew, but I’m the only one here who ever uses Google Maps…”
“I don’t know,” Vance murmured, glimpsing around the woods. “I ah… I was just wondering that myself.”
“Well… maybe you came here when you were younger,” Lumis suggested. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you did some hunting as a kid.”
“Yeah,” Vance uttered.
They walked quietly for a while, Vance pulling out the small flashlight on his keyring, Lumis activating the flashlight app on his phone.
The longer they walked, the more Vance found himself reading along the gravel path beneath his feet, stepping over every hump in the road and moving in accordance with every slight turn in the pathway’s direction, almost anticipating each and every one.
“I have been here before,” he realized.
Lumis glanced at him. “You remember when?”
“No,” Vance sighed. “Just… sometime… before the military.”
“Yeah. You were definitely brought up as a hunter,” Lumis chuckled. “Well, that explains a lot. You know anything about hunting?”
Vance pondered on this. “I know to avoid shooting the face if you plan to stuff the thing… and… how to field-dress without puncturing a gallbladder, because that thing tastes like shit. You wanna yank that nasty little fucker out…”
“Yup… yup, I called it,” Lumis nodded. “You and I need to take Max hunting sometime, since you apparently know everything about it.”
Vance glared into the darkness around him, feeling strangely unsettled. There were numerous instances throughout his life when he would stumble upon a place of mysterious familiarity—as he spent his entire life living in Gates Mill, aside from his time in the military—but something about this place put a deep, twisted knot in the pit of his stomach.
Lumis turned, observing his troubled expression as he walked.
“I have a difficult question for you… no pressure,” the detective said. “But… if you came here as a kid… then your family probably rented a cabin from the Hunter family at some point. If you’ve been here before, then your family probably interacted with the Hunters. So… if, hypothetically, we could contact your family… do you think they’d have any info for us?”
“They’re dead,” Vance said without thinking.
Lumis narrowed his eyes. “They’re dead? ”
Vance nodded gravely at the gravel stretch ahead.
Lumis continued to survey him. “You’ve never been able to tell me that before.”
Vance had no response for him, his eyes locked dead ahead, his mind urging him to follow the trail further. He quickened his pace, marching past his partner, eager to find where the pathway led. Lumis sighed and followed suit.
Eventually, Vance spotted a small house straight ahead, and he almost broke into a jog toward it—but the detective yanked him to a stop.
“Calm your shit,” Lumis said. “We’re looking at the cabins first. We’ll look at the house when we circle back.”
Vance spared the small house a longing stare, then reluctantly followed Lumis further up the hill, passing the house and venturing deeper into the forest. The two of them walked for nearly an hour, their legs beginning to ache as they stopped in on every abandoned cabin they found—all of them completely empty, worn down with splintery wood and water-damaged rooftops. None of them contained any furniture, any evidence, or any sign of habitation whatsoever.
Vance was quick to abandon the last cabin, hurrying back down the hill and strolling quickly along the gravel pathway, Lumis huffing as he trailed along behind him.
“Easy, now,” Lumis panted. “Damn house has been here for decades. It ain’t going anywhere.”
Vance skidded to a stop beside the house, absorbing every detail of it and inhaling a deep, thoughtful breath.
This house was a single story, an old brick home that looked sturdier than any of the homes he usually saw in Gates Mill, its roof peeling off in various places, its windows dark and cracked. A slender dirt path stretched off the gravel driveway, leading along the side of the house and up to the front door. The front yard contained a single large oak tree, and Vance wandered slowly across the yard, stopping in the center of it and staring at the house once more.
A sharp pain penetrated his skull, though he was far too distracted to wince. He merely glared at the brick house, almost as if he was waiting for it to explain itself, his heart pounding, his mind drifting into a strange, bizarre place of peace, a blind sort of serenity like something a person would feel as a child, a free simplicity one might feel while riding a bike or playing with a friend, jumping on a trampoline or swimming in a river…
“Fighter-boy,” Vance breathed in the faintest hint of a whisper.
Lumis squinted strangely at him from behind. “Say what, now?”
Vance shook his head, wheeling around to face Lumis. “The Hunter couple lived here…?”
“The Hunters? Yes,” Lumis affirmed. “That’s kinda why we’re here, Vance.”
Vance’s expression turned to one of confusion, staring at the house again and feeling entirely out of place. “But I’ve… been here before… I never knew any couples, but I’ve been here before… how could that…? That doesn’t make any…”
“Vance—if your family brought you here to hunt as a kid, then you might’ve played in this yard as a kid at some point,” Lumis suggested. “That’s entirely possible. It doesn’t mean you knew the Hunter couple at all.”
“But I know this place ,” Vance insisted, growing utterly frustrated with himself. “I know it like my own damn home. The kitchen’s across from the front door. The landline’s on the wall in the hallway. There’s a long counter on the right side. The walls are old-school with wood-panels, and the hallway… three bedrooms, a bath, half-bath, and… agh …”
He paused and grasped his head for a second, then shook it off and marched toward the house with a powerful stride.
“Vance—Vance, slow down,” Lumis called out, following him toward the front door. “I looked into this. This place has belonged to the Hunter family for generations. There’ve never been any Callaghans living here—but there might be a killer living here. Slow your roll!”
Vance didn’t listen. He leaped onto the porch and tried to rip the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. So, he took a step back and planted his boot into the door with a hard BANG—ripping the door open and sending wooden shards flying amok.
Lumis approached him, and the two of them cautiously leaned into the darkened home.
A scent of mildew slithered up their noses, the air thick as they shone their flashlights into the dark interior.
Then, Lumis’s mouth drifted open in surprise.
It was exactly as Vance had described; the kitchen area, a dusty and cluttered mess, was directly across from the front door, the living room to the left, a small bar-like counter on the right, the walls of the house complete with ancient old wood panels like homes often had decades ago. Across the living room was the entrance to the hallway, and Lumis was just able to see an old landline telephone hanging from the wall in the darkness.
“Okay,” Lumis mumbled. “That’s… strange. That is… very strange.”
“I told you,” Vance muttered, stepping inside and casting his flashlight’s glow over the living room. “I’ve been here before…”
“All right, well… maybe your family was friends with the Hunter family way back in the day,” Lumis figured. “And, maybe your family visited theirs every now and then. But even if that’s the case, it would’ve happened long before the Hunter couple disappeared. You were in Iraq when that happened, so…”
“So my memory of this place has nothing to do with the case, in all likelihood,” Vance surmised. “Still… it’s just… bizarre…”
“Oh, yeah, it must be,” Lumis nodded, shining his light over various areas of the home. “It’s weird for me to visit any places from my childhood. But for you, I can’t imagine…”
A brief silence fell, Vance slowly stepping past the collapsed coffee table in the center of the living room, staring at a collection of broken wood against the wall, which appeared to have been a faint blueish color at some point in time. He stared down at it, then turned, observing the room from the other side.
Vance stood stock still—taking in every visible inch of the scene from where he stood, thinking of something impossible. He quickly shook the thought away, joining Lumis as they searched the rest of the house.
Their search concluded with no new information, just as they expected—but Vance racked his mind on the strange feeling of familiarity during the entire drive home.
Similarly to her father—Ariella’s ride home was a long, tense, and silent one.
When they arrived at the Callaghan home, Tammy and Jaxson unlocked the door and pushed it open for them, Ariella remaining close by Arkus’s side, worriedly examining the bloody wound on his head. Just when they closed the door, Ariella, Jaxson, and Tammy simultaneously repressed a gasp; they all stared at Arkus’s wound in the lighting of the kitchen, now seeing it clearly, the thick pulpy crimson on the side of his head and the streams of blood all the way down his left side, which were now drying in black, flaky lines.
Arkus stared downward, not noticing their lingering eyes, still feeling incredibly hurt and disoriented. Ariella gently guided him over to the living room.
“Hey—will you guys go grab something from my dad’s storage room?” she asked, sitting Arkus down on the couch. “He has a military first-aid kit in the closet next to the big gun case.”
Tammy and Jaxson both nodded and shuffled off down the hall.
Ariella moved to the kitchen and wet a rag in the sink, then returned to the couch, where Arkus was now lying down with his eyes shut.
“No—hey,” Ariella yelled, clasping the scruff of his leather jacket and yanking him upright again. “You can’t sleep. Stay awake.”
“Mnnngh,” Arkus pouted. “I’m tired …”
“Yeah… because you probably have a really bad concussion,” Ariella snarked, sitting beside him. “You’re gonna have to stay awake.”
Arkus flopped back against the couch’s rear cushions, groaning at the ceiling.
Tammy and Jaxson returned moments later, hovering over the back of the couch and handing the large first-aid kit to Ariella.
“Oy,” Arkus croaked, staring up at the two of them upside-down. “You two can take the truck if ya’ want. Jus’ bring it back t’morrow… and no hanky-panky in my truck, or yer grounded .”
Tammy and Jaxson frowned, exchanging perturbed expressions.
“What…?” Arkus barked up at them.
“I still think we should call the cops,” Tammy said, her tone quivering angrily.
“Me too,” Jaxson agreed, his voice low and severe. “Sexual harassment, physical assault… and what he did to you could be considered attempted murder , Arkus.”
“It wouldn’t work,” Ariella said gravely.
Everyone stared at her.
Ariella sighed. “Dad and Lumis coached me on this stuff for years. weren’t any witnesses, and we don’t have any proof. The cops would just tell us to get a restraining order. They won’t actually do anything to him.”
“Right… save for waiting for someone to actually die,” Tammy growled.
“We’ll see you guys tomorrow, and we’ll update Rodney and Julian on the situation,” Jaxson said with a wave, pointing at Arkus. “Don’t let him fall asleep.”
“I won’t,” Ariella assured. “Night.”
Tammy and Jaxson said their goodbyes and left the house.
Ariella grabbed a small square pillow from the arm of the couch, scooting over and placing it on her lap. “Here—lay sideways, just don’t fall asleep.”
Arkus sighed and sprawled over sideways as instructed, resting his head on the pillow and making himself comfortable on her lap, his grisly wound perfectly facing upward, allowing Ariella to begin dabbing the drying blood away. The two of them were silent for a few minutes, her smoothly gliding the wettened rag up and down Arkus’s cheek and neck, the rag slowly becoming stained with blotches of moistened red.
Arkus stared directly forward as he lay on his side, his eyes gazing vacantly at the darkened TV, his hand reaching out, gingerly grasping her knee and tapping his fingers along it lightly.
There was a sense of intensity in the air, both of them replaying the frightful event in their minds, numerous emotions waging war inside either of them. Things had grown drastically serious in the past few months; gone were the days of simply trailing around with their friends, sharing a secret crush on one another and treating each day like a fun college adventure.
It seemed that—not only was the Cutthroat Killer indulging his reign, and not only was the town of Gates Mill lost amidst a wave of anxious urgency in the killer’s murderous wake—but things between their friend group would never be the same again. All of them were faced with every deep feeling they ever had, every want and every hardship, every secret desire and every dark reality of their personalities, and on this night, they’d all definitively crossed the point of no return, wherein things would remain severe, never again returning to the days of simple fun.
And now, after crossing the point of no return, everything seemed clearer, all things good and bad; Zane was most assuredly a lunatic who intended to do them harm, and Lucy was definitely far too blinded by her love for him. Tammy and Jaxson were finally ready to take a chance on dating each other, and Ariella and Arkus—more deeply than even their angers and concerns—both came to understand one single, fundamental thing tonight.
The two of them cared about one another far more than they ever thought about before.
The moment Arkus saw Zane on top of her, he was certain he’d never felt such uncontrollable rage before in his life.
When Zane smashed a rock into Arkus’s head, Ariella knew without a doubt that she’d never been so scared for someone else before, not since the night of Eddie Grant’s death.
She gently cleaned his wound, him fidgeting mildly with the fabric of her jeans.
“Ari,” Arkus exhaled.
“Hm?” Ariella mumbled, beginning to apply disinfectant to his head.
Arkus winced slightly, sighing and resting his hand on her leg, his visage softer than ever.
“Don’t freak out,” he murmured.
Ariella paused, squinting down at him. “Why would I freak out…?”
Arkus took in a deep, bracing breath, his grasp on her leg tightening.
“Don’t freak out when I say this,” he uttered faintly.
Ariella tenderly placed a hand on his neck, her thumb stroking soothingly along his warm skin.
Arkus’s eyes drifted closed, savoring every ounce of comfort he felt in her care.
“I love you.”
Ariella felt her heart flutter, a warm smile spreading across her face.
“I love you, too.”
Ariella reached for the first-aid kit, preparing to wrap the wound up.
Arkus rolled his head halfway backward, squinting up at her. “I was kinda expecting a bigger reaction than that…”
Ariella let out a laugh, combing back his silky brown hairs. “Sorry.”
Arkus allowed his eyes to ease closed again, inhaling her scent and basking in the smooth sensation of her fingers venturing through his hair, gently grazing his skin and making him feel more at peace than ever.
Ariella grinned down at him, pleased at the look of pure contentment on his tired face, his toned, slender body relaxing as he lay on her lap, entrusting her more than she ever thought he would. Still, despite the terrible things leading up to this, she felt glad to be caring for him now. For so long, she wanted to show him how much she cared, though she never fully realized it, and never really knew how…
As Ariella lovingly slid her hand down his cheek, watching him rest and absorbing his every wonderful detail, her mind began to wander back to the darker territories, thoughts of Zane, of Cutthroat, and of whatever troubles might lie ahead.
Her expression grew severe, her resolve hardening inside, and now—gazing down at the boy she loved—she found herself thinking of everyone else she loved as well, Vance, Lumis, Tammy, Jaxson, Rodney, and Julian.
All of them had been exposed to some form of danger since this escapade began.
Ariella gulped, glaring fixedly down at Arkus and feeling a spark of passion ignite inside her.
Truly, she despised Zane, hated his bloated sense of self-importance and his delusional beliefs of entitlement—but he was right about one thing.
Ariella simply wasn’t content with normality, with sitting back and letting the world do whatever it pleased. She was, as he said, one of the rare few born in the fire, someone destined to be directly in the heart of whatever conflict transpired around her. Perhaps she did have a hunger—and she could even feel it now, gnawing at her, urging her, rising up inside like a steadily growing wildfire, pushing her to act against the awful things targeting her and her loved ones now. No longer was Ariella Callaghan a victim. If any dominoes might fall, none of them would be her. She would never surrender to that again, never allow herself to succumb to such victimhood again, never become one of the dominos destined to fall.
No—she would be the one to tip them over.