Wrench led the way, then stopped at the door to the garage and looked Marcus in the eye. 'He's angry,' Wrench said. Not at you, but it's close enough he might forget the difference. You stand your ground. But you don't poke the bear more than you have to. Got it. Got it, Marcus said. Wrench opened the door. The garage was dim, lit by a few hanging bulbs that cast everything in harsh yellow. Reaper stood near his bike, hands braced on the handlebars, head bowed. His knuckles were raw, and there was a dent in the metal locker beside him that hadn't been there that morning. He didn't look up when they entered. I said I wanted an hour, he growled. Yeah. Well, you get 55 minutes and a stubborn kid, Wrench replied.
He's got something you need to see. Reaper turned then, eyes bloodshot, jaw tied. When he saw Marcus, some of the hardness flickered, but didn't disappear. What is it, he asked. Marcus stepped forward and held out the list. This was in cold storage, he said. Bolt showed us. Reaper took it and scanned the page. His mouth flattened when he reached the starred names. I saw this, he said. and then I decided not to let you see it yet. I'm glad you failed, Marcus said. Reaper's gaze snapped up. Watch it. No, Marcus said, surprising himself. I won't watch it, and I won't wait. I'm on that list. So is Lily. You don't get to decide I'm too young to know I'm in danger. Reaper stared at him for a long moment.
Then he crumpled the paper in his fist and tossed it onto the workbench. You think I don't know you're in danger? He asked quietly. Every time I look at you, all I see is a target someone drew on my back, 13 years ago. I didn't draw it, Marcus said. Neither did Lil. Colt did, and whoever else helped him. So stop looking at us like we're mistakes, and start looking at us like we're the reason you fight. The words came out before he could stop them, fueled by every empty night, every broken promise, every adult who decided what was best for him without asking what he wanted. Reaper's shoulders sagged, some of the fury bleeding into something else. You sound like your mother, he said hoarsely. Which one? Marcus shot back.
The one you knew, or the one who raised me? The question hit like a punch. Reaper flinched. I don't know, he admitted. And that's the part that scares me most. I don't know which woman gave you my eyes, and which one gave you your spine. I just know they're both gone, and Colt's name is somewhere in the story of why. The engine behind him idled on, a low, steady heartbeat. Then we find him, Marcus said. Not just so you can hit something. So we can ask him. So we can make— him talk. About why he was watching Lily. Why he was watching me. Why he was anywhere near Sarah or Nina or whoever else is tied up in this. Reaper laughed once, short and bitter. You make it sound easy.
No, Marcus said. I make it sound necessary. They stood there, two versions of the same angry, stubbornness, separated by years, scars, and choices neither had made for themselves. Finally, Reaper X exhaled. You're right about one thing, he said. You're not leverage. You're the reason I fight. You and Lily both. He stepped closer, not quite touching, but closer than before. But that also means you're the line I don't cross. I will not put you in the line of fire to fix mistakes I made before you were born. Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat. What if I'm already there? He asked quietly. What if Colt doesn't care whether you put me there or not? What if he decides I'm easier to grab than you are? The question hung in the oil-scented air.
Reaper's eyes darkened. Then we change the story, he said. We stop being the ones he haunts. We start being the ones who haunt him. The idle engine roared as he twisted the throttle, then cut abruptly to silence. Get back to Lily, Reaper said. Tell her I'll be in soon. I need 10 more minutes to remember how to be something other than a weapon. Marcus nodded and turned to go. At the door, he hesitated. Reaper. Yeah. When this is over, Marcus said we're going to the detective together about Sarah, about Nina, about all of it— no more half-truths. Deal. Reaper met his gaze for the first time, and he didn't look away. Deal. He said. Marcus stepped back into the hallway, the door closing behind him with a soft click that sounded, for once, less like a prison and more like a promise.
One that, cold somewhere out there in the dark, would do everything in his power to break.