Children of Redemption (Children of Vice 3)

“Cain, can you show me security footage from my twelfth birthday?”

“Showing Dona and Wyatt’s twelfth birthday party,” Cain replied as the footage appeared on a screen. I couldn’t look away from my mother on the screen as she took off my blindfold. I was already on edge from her boot camp, so upon realizing I was home, I was emotional and tired. I had just wanted to cry. I watched as Dona ran and hugged me tightly and as we walked through the front door, every surface covered in presents and action figures. Grinning, I watched my twelve-year-old self try to peel Dona off of me, her puffy dress scratching my arms. The more I struggled, the more she held on, and because she was a little tyrant, she called for a cannon ball. Obliging her, Helen, Sedric, Darcy, and Nari all tackled me.

“Urgh, guys, I’m sore,” I said to the video, knowing that wouldn’t change anything, when the camera suddenly focused on Ethan’s face.

“Cain, is there volume?” I asked.

“You have no more questions.”

Rolling my eyes, I watched intently, trying to remember what Ethan had said to me. Instead, I just watched as all my cousins and Dona got off me when he spoke…thank God, they were going to crush me—I started to think when I noticed my reaction to his words was what I remembered. For some reason, I was upset. I was snapping at him. Ethan just rolled his eyes at me and turned to walk away. Had I not been focusing on his lips, I would have missed it.

“Cain, rewind a second.”

I watched again as his lips muttered something as he turned away.

“Cain, rewind again.”

On the third time, I was sure. Part of me wished I wasn’t. I was tired of reflecting on what a little shit I was.

“Cain the password is…I missed you, too.”

“Password accepted,” Cain replied. I could only put my hand over my mouth, watching as the system unlocked. “Your access is unlocked. Welcome, Wyatt. How can I help?”

“Has anyone invented a time machine yet?” I asked sarcastically, forgetting sarcasm wasn’t apparently Cain’s strong suit.

“Searching…there are no journals or articles on the inventor of the time machine.”

“Never mind.” I was still looking at the screen. I couldn’t even remember my twelfth birthday clearly, and yet well over a decade later, it was still on his mind. I’d been upset, upset with my mother, with training. I’d missed being home…I’d missed Dona and Ethan. But I didn’t know how to say it then, so I lashed out…even when I came home this last time, did I tell him how I missed him? We were both horrible when it came to communicating with each other. Dona was our spokesperson… and most times, we just went on as if it never happened. I felt like I could never speak to him because it was like everyt

hing else. I struggled with it, and he exceled at it by nature.

“Cain, how many times did Ethan save me?”

“Opening Wyatt-related incidents folder for the last ten years.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ethan, you are so damn petty.” I had to laugh. Of course—not only would he record all of the times he’d saved my ass, but he’d also store them in a special fucking folder.

“What year would you like?”

I wanted to tell Cain to delete the folder…surely, he’d know that and wouldn’t let me delete it, right? “Delete the folder.”

“Access denied.”

I grinned. “Well, it’s good to know I know him as well as he knows me.”

“Cain, create an Ethan-related incidents folder.” Fuck it, I was petty, too. “Sub-folder this year. First file mark as Boston.”

No further explanation would be needed.

“Created.”

Nodding, I lifted up the files on the desk behind me. “New file marked Ivy, and pull up video feed from Airstrip 17453, at noon.”

“Should I play this video?” Looking up, I nodded—for a second forgetting I wasn’t talking to a real person.

“Play video.”

“Playing,” Cain stated, and I watched as Ivy spun around. “Pause,” I said, watching the bullet go through her head. “Rewind, play 3x slower, and zoom. Pause. Repeat last ten seconds.”