Scorch (Virtues & Lies 2)

Of course I do. How could I forget the bruises, cuts, and broken bones? How could I forget the moment I thought I’d lost him at the hands of the people I love the most. Father, brother…Kit. His own flesh and blood. Maxwell and Francis did nothing but stand by and watch as Freddie almost drowned him in an icy lake.

“Appearances are deceptive, child,” Emily, Christopher’s grandmother, murmurs.

Penny holds my hand so tight it feels like a counterbalance to the crushing force around my heart as I am made to watch my soul toil through challenge after challenge

to prove his salt.

“The appearance of power does not indicate its possession.”

“This is what it will be like. Day after day after day.” Penny pulls me closer, her warmth refusing to comfort my cold and brittle being as Freddie pulls Christopher’s almost blue body from the icy water.

Casper is on hand to jump in, standing at the side with his eyes assessing the situation. His posture straightens as Freddie’s taunts begin again. His jaw tenses.

My brother’s loyalty to Christopher is obvious, and it helps quieten down the panic inside me.

He won’t let it go too far. He’ll step in if it gets too much.

He’s a hero. A soldier. A protector.

And he is loyal.

“Beg me to stop!” Freddie’s voice thunders through the still, glacial air.

The sky is bright blue and unperturbed by clouds. It’s a clear winter morning in the North of England. Quiet with the exception of Christopher’s gasping intake of air. “Say it’s too much. Tell me to stop.”

How is he not shivering? I think as Christopher stands tall in front of his cousin. Breathing controlled. Body frozen. Gaze unmoving from his tormentor.

He won’t ask for mercy.

He will not beg.

And I love him for it even if it kills me.

Freddie’s pale hands fist at the end of his diving suit sleeves, and in a flash, they connect with Christopher’s gut, each in quick, unforgiving succession.

“Fight back!”

A part of me screams for Christopher to do it. To fight back. To retaliate. To protect himself.

But he won’t. And that makes every part of me proud. Because even battered, bruised, and worn, he won’t betray his role. He won’t betray the trust the other men standing by the bank have put in him. They believe he can endure it all. They deem him worthy of their bloody crown.

And so do I. I’m certain he can endure it all too. Even if this is beyond painful to watch.

He’ll be lucky if he makes it out of this without pneumonia.

The burgundy welts on his ribs are enough to tell me that there must be at least a break if not more.

He doesn’t wince or groan or complain. He doesn’t show pain.

Because that is the test. Resilience and tenacity.

Strength and honour above self.

Christopher balls his hands at his sides. Every sharp line of his sculpted body tightens, and I can feel his restraint inside me. I can feel his resilience flowing through me, pounding through my bloodstream.

Unlike Freddie, he’s in nothing but swim shorts. The light, wispy kind you wear on a sweltering beach somewhere on the equator. Where even the lightest of clothes feel like thermals.

Taunting him, Freddie whips his hands across his jaw. Fast, relentlessly, and as Christopher starts to inhale, he ducks him under the glossy surface of the water. Fog rises from its façade as their body heat hits the frigid depths, and as Christopher remains under, Freddie re-emerges, shaking his limbs like he wants to be rid of their frozen weight and ache.