Their Obsession (Four Mercenaries 2)

“Yes, Clover, that’s the alternative,” Drake whispered. He took a deep breath in an attempt to keep his voice level. “My mom sold me when I was still a kid. And I’ve seen some horrible things. But I’ve been a good boy, and no one killed me. I lived long enough to meet Tank and got to live my new life for eight long years. That’s something.”

The tears that instantly welled up in Clover’s eyes and overflowed into streams, forced Drake to grab Clover’s hand even though the boy flinched at first.

“One of those guys you killed…” Clover rubbed his eyes, but squeezed Drake’s hand. “He said he’d knock all my teeth out. It might not sound so scary. Just a threat, but I looked into his eyes, and I knew he meant it.”

Drake looked down, nodding. “You must be obedient. Don’t talk back. Maybe I can do something so they spare you. I am so sorry,” he said softly, each of Clover’s tears creating a new wound in his heart. Maybe it would stop beating soon, unable to take the depth of despair he felt.

Clover’s expression, the pure fear in it, reminded him of his own face. He never broke down when someone could see, but that one time at the gas station when Hank and he had been driving home from a visit at Mr. Arnie’s, he’d cried in the restroom, unable to cope with the suffering he’d witnessed.

Hank had been nervous when Drake had left the stall and squeezed his hand all-too-tightly on the way through the store. That had been when Drake saw it.

Two officers had been chatting to an elderly couple. They were only a couple of steps away, and if Drake had called out for help, they’d have taken notice, demanded an explanation.

But Drake had been too afraid and had meekly followed Hank to their car. Even back then, he’d already imagined the cops being dirty or the couple accepting money to turn a blind eye to the boy who ‘made up stories’.

The threat Hank had held over him had been too stifling back then.

Still, Drake glanced to the vent again. Maybe he’d been wrong not to try to alert the cops. Maybe he’d have ended up at Mr. Arnie’s, tortured to death, but maybe he would have been taken to safety years before he killed Hank to regain his freedom?

Was it even his choice to make?

Clover shook his head time and time again. “I will make a mistake. You know I have a big mouth. I will say something, or flinch, or act out of turn. I know I will because I’m just so fucking stupid.”

The vent called out to Drake, and he squeezed Clover’s arms, his entire body burning from the inside. “You’re not stupid. You are the love of my life, Clover.”

Clover looked up at him with trembling lips, a mouth Drake so loved to kiss was now bruised and battered. “I am stupid. I should have known better than to do this crazy stunt. I should have told you it was a bad idea, but no, I thought we could take on the world. Well, we can’t, and it only took a punch and a few threats to beat me. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Drake swallowed. “I’m the one responsible. I’m older, more experienced. No wonder you thought I knew what I was doing,” he said, pulling Clover to his feet. If Clover was to make a risky choice, there was no more time to spare.

“Do you…?” Clover licked his lips. “If… bad things happen to me. What’s the best way to… end things? If I have no weapons, no rope… what do I do?” It was as if Clover’s body wasn’t able to contain the fear anymore, and he trembled under Drake’s fingers.

The idea of Clover dying revolted him to the core, but he pulled his lover into his arms, trying to remember the exact temperature of his body, its scent, how it felt against him. “Don’t drink bleach. Or take pills, because you’re most likely to get very sick than die. I think slitting your wrists could be least painful.” He took a deep breath and glanced at the vent. “But you could also try and run. Now.”

Clover let out a strangled laugh. “If you could open that door, you would have done it by now. We’re stuck here.”

Hope shot through Drake’s veins like the deadliest of drugs. But maybe even the small chance of success was worth the risk?

He pulled on Clover’s hand and took a long step toward the shelving unit—or rather tried, because the chain at his ankles made him stumble against the wall. Swallowing his anger, he reached his target anyway and pulled the shelves away from the wall, revealing the grille.

Clover stilled. “Y-you think it’s doable?”