“Identical twins,” Rebel says as she wraps her arms, her whole body, around Dante as if she’s trying to protect him. Shield him.
“I—” My voice catches in my throat. “I didn’t know.”
When she said they were brothers, I never imagined they might be twins. Does that make it worse? I look at Dante and think maybe it does.
For several long, heavy moments the room is silent except for our breathing and the soft, gentle words Rebel whispers into Dante’s ear. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but it seems to be having some kind of soothing effect on Dante because he’s clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping him standing.
Not that I blame him. Not when he just found out that his brother is being tortured as we speak.
His twin brother. Deacon. The guy they broke into the lab to find.
The puzzle pieces start assembling themselves to form a picture.
No wonder they had been so angry and frantic. No wonder Nitro nearly blew the place to bits. If they had even a clue what was happening to Deacon, then their restraint was actually pretty impressive. If something like that was happening to Rebel and I couldn’t get to her, couldn’t find her… Well, let’s just say I’m shocked they didn’t do more damage to the lab. A lot more damage.
I want to say something, to apologize for what’s happening. To apologize for ratting on them to the SHPD last night, for stopping them before they found him, for not doing more for Deacon than pulling the fire alarm tonight. But before I can get out much more than “I—” Draven slams his fist into the wall. Slams it through the wall, to be more exact.
“Two-faced sons of bitches.” He hits the wall again. And again. By the time he pulls back to smash his fist into the drywall for a fourth time, his knuckles are bruised and bleeding.
“Hey.” I don’t know what possesses me—or why it bothers me so much to see him hurt himself—but I wrap my palms over his fist. “Don’t. That won’t help anything.”
I rub my thumb gently over his injured knuckles. He stiffens and glances down at where our skin touches.
His voice is rough when he says, “How do you know what will—”
“Was my dad there?” Rebel interrupts, talking over him.
I can’t even form the words. How do you tell your best friend that you saw her dad standing over her boyfriend’s twin, casually watching a torture session as if it were a baseball game? Tears spring to my eyes as I drop Draven’s hand and shake my head helplessly. Not to say no, but because I don’t know how to tell her yes.
“I knew it,” she whispers, then turns back to Dante. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
He doesn’t answer. While Draven looks like he’s ready to tear the whole world apart, Dante just looks like he’s in shock.
Who could blame them?
“Of course Rex was there.” Draven wipes his bloody knuckles on his jeans. “It’s as bad as we feared. It goes all the way to the top. The whole damn hero world is corrupt.”
“That’s not true,” I say. “It’s not all heroes.”
He sneers at me, his fierce eyes blazing with a rage that paradoxically sends a shiver up my spine. “Don’t be na?ve, hero girl.”
While he didn’t say “hero-worshiper,” his tone tells me that’s exactly what he means. He thinks I’m no better than the men who are torturing Deacon.
“Draven’s right,” Rebel says, like she’s begging me to understand. “It’s time you finally saw the truth.”
“You’re wrong.” I’m not trying to be difficult, but I can’t accept the idea that all heroes are bad. “I work in that lab. I see heroes being heroic every day. Just because a few bad apples—”
“No, Kenna,” Rebel interrupts. “It’s not just a few. I’ve been digging into this for almost a year. It’s way more widespread than you think.”
My mind reels at the thought. It’s bad enough to think that a small group of rotten eggs have worked their way into power. What she’s talking about is so extreme it’s practically incomprehensible.
Some heroes, yes. Obviously. But not all. Not even most.
I can’t believe the League would let that happen.
“I don’t—” I shake my head. “There must be a logical explanation. Like mind control or—”
“You don’t get it!” Rebel shouts.
I jerk back, stunned at her rage. This is my best friend, the girl I’ve known all my life, the girl I know better than anyone. How could I not realize how bad it’s gotten?
“Rebel, I—”
“Of course she doesn’t get it.” Draven again. “She’s been drinking the League Kool-Aid. Cherry-flavored, is it?”