Bran, listen. Society’s perception of normal is a learned concept. It’s an opinion that was passed down through generations until it eventually became a tradition. It’s rooted in people’s minds because it’s been taught for a long time, but fundamentally, it’s just an opinion. It means nothing just because people conform to it. You being different is fucking fantastic, son. You’ve risen above their sheep mentality and you can choose to be proud of your difference instead of hating it. It might take time to shake off society’s perceptions, but that’s okay. I’m here. Your mum is here. Your whole family is here to help you. All you have to do is say the words.
I don’t want to be different, Dad. I want to be like Lan. Why can’t I just be like him?
Lan is different, too, Bran. He’s so different, it drives me insane. He’s so different, he wears it like a badge of honor. You know this. He’s literally been diagnosed with narcissistic and antisocial personality disorder.
Yeah, but he seems normal.
Because he fakes it.
I fake it, too, but I don’t tell him that.
Me
Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.
Dad
Come over when you can. I have a lot of new recipes to teach you.
I send him a few heart emojis and then hide the knife, add a new plaster, and put on my watch.
On my way out of the studio, I congratulate myself for stepping back from the edge. Though it was all Dad’s work, really.
But for how long can I keep up this fa?ade before it explodes in my face…?
Loud voices reach me as soon as I’m close to the living room. Lan—of course, he’s ninety-nine percent the reason behind all trouble—Eli, and surprisingly, Creigh, who barely speaks.
He’s shouting now.
“What’s with all the commotion—what the…” I trail off when I see Creigh beating Lan to a pulp against the sofa.
I storm toward them, but Eli grabs me by the nape and pulls me back. “This isn’t your place.”
“What the actual hell? Lan’s bleeding.”
“Aw. You worried about me? I should’ve asked Creigh to beat me up earlier.” My brother can barely speak, teeth bloodied, but he drops a hand on his chest. “So touched, I could cry.”
I wiggle against Eli’s hand, but my cousin keeps me in a death grip while Creigh continues punching my brother.
“Stop them!” I bark at Eli. “Why are you letting this happen?”
“Your brother needs to be put in his fucking place.”
“He’s going to kill him!”
“Small price to pay for all the fuckery he does.”
My heart lunges harder the more Creigh beats Lan. The sound of his punches echoes in the air like a haunting symphony of violence. The fact that I can’t help fills my throat with nausea.
Through it all, Lan steals peeks at me and even winks. Fucking twat.
Lan and I are different and I’ve always suffered from an inferiority complex when it comes to him. Where he’s the god, I’m the unknown peasant.
Where he excels at everything and makes a show of it, I excel at everything silently.
One would think his actions would make me hate him, but I don’t. Seeing him hurt is no different than me being punched in the gut.
I’m thrown back to the first and only time Lan ever begged as he held me close while I cried in his chest.
“Please, Bran, please! Tell me what’s fucking wrong.”
Though that happened during the darkest time in my life, his words and his hug are my favorite memories.
That was almost eight years ago, and no matter how we change, whenever I look at Lan, I see his face from when we were fifteen as he kept me together.
So I always want to keep him together as well, even if he puts himself in the worst fucking situations.
I have no doubt that he wronged Creigh in some way. He wouldn’t hit Lan for no reason.
Is this because of that fire at the Heathens’?
I’m about to hit Eli and go to Lan’s aid when Remi walks in, stops at the entrance, and stares at the scene while blinking several times. “Not sure what type of freak show—or kink, not shaming—you King men are into, but I have a serious question. Am I too drunk or is there actually a guy tied up in our basement?”
I go still in Eli’s hold, that doomsday feeling trickling back to my mind. “A guy is tied up in our basement?”
“Sure as fuck, and if I’m not too drunk, then I’m pretty sure it’s Nikolai Sokolov.”
My lips part.
My heart falls.
What the fuck—
“That’s the surprise I kept for you, Cray Cray.” Landon grins like evil incarnate. “He’s your path to vengeance. Told you I had everything figured out.”
I came up with a plan to save Nikolai.
I don’t give two flying fucks about Creighton’s need for vengeance against Jeremy. Which is the reason behind this whole thing, as Eli explained.
Lan used Creigh in one of his games and concealed information about his past.
A past that Jeremy’s family has to do with.
To make up for his shenanigans, Lan concocted a plan to lure Jeremy into our house. And what’s better than using his best friend as bait?
Apparently, Lan managed to drug Nikolai, which is how he could transport him and lock him up in the basement.
I know I said I don’t hate Lan, but I’d really love to punch him in the face for all the rubbish he keeps pulling.
The thought of Nikolai drugged and tied up for my family’s entertainment sobered me up immediately.
I spent the whole night and half a day trying to think of how to get him out of here unscathed.
The problem is, Lan and Eli have strictly forbidden me from getting close to the basement since, well, they know I won’t stand by.
I asked Remi for help and he categorically refused to get involved in whatever this is.
“Mate, Lan is your brother, so he won’t hurt you no matter what you do. I, on the other hand, could be skinned alive. And that psycho Eli is also in on this. Hell no, I’m just going to lock myself in my room and watch porn. Thank you very much.”
So I went on my own to the electricity generator room, studied the blueprint, and managed to cut the power in the basement, where they’re keeping Nikolai.
That way, the cameras won’t work.
Then I stole the key from Lan while he was taking a shower, fetched a knife and a flashlight from the kitchen, and snuck to the basement.
Once I arrive in front of the door, I search my surroundings before I unlock it and slip inside.
My heart beats so loud in my chest, I barely manage to keep my hand steady as I’m overwhelmed by his scent, his presence, just him.
I’ve always frozen up when I’m in a state of shock, and that happened more often than not when I was with Nikolai.
His massive unconscious body lolls on a chair in the empty room.
Thick ropes swirl around his chest and dig into his inky arms, binding him to the chair, and his head is slumped forward, his hair camouflaging his face. It’s longer now, wavier.