Cliff keeps his eyes in his lap, because that feels safe, and he’s a coward. He has known many things in life, and one has always been that he will run. He will squash himself into small pieces he can hide, can slip between pages, because he’s good at keeping himself lonely. He is good at a lot of things.
Being a father isn’t one of them.
Theres a tear in the universe he likes to slip into, lie awake and percolate his thoughts into fathomable matter, and it’s in those times where he knows he’s done things he wishes he hadn’t.
This is one of those times.
No one has said anything in an hour, minute, week. The chair is uncomfortable and his knuckles throb on his right hand. Cliff expects he should say something, anything, but he has nothing to say.
He doesn’t know who to turn to, and every instinct in him is saying to drop everything and run. Run away from this, from himself, from Kirk. And that ugly thought is something he has been privy to for a while, and he wishes he had never listened to himself. Kirk means a lot to him, but Cliff decides, sitting on this uncomfortable chair in Dave’s house with a bloodied fist, that he never should have taken Kirk in all those years ago. They would not be in this mess. Without Kirk, James would’ve married Lars, and they would’ve moved away in a little house away from all of this. They would all be safe. And maybe Kirk would’ve lived a better life without him. Without constantly being pulled from house to house, losing himself between moulding dry wall and broken guitars.
Cliff could’ve lived his whole life without seeing Dave again. He could. He definitely could. He looks up briefly, just to cement that this is real, that Dave is corporeal and sitting across from him, and he is. Dave is there, though he doesn’t look back at Cliff. He’s slumped over, his forehead cupped in his hand, rubbing across his hairline.
Cliff flicks his eyes down. No. He made his bed years ago but instead of fucking lying in it, he’s been crawling under it in hopes he can escape.
And he never meant to be a father. Kirk isn’t his kid. And he is. Cliff doesn’t know much about fatherhood, but he knows he’d protect Kirk with his life. Maybe that’s enough.
“We can’t just sit here,” goes Virgil, snapping Cliff back into the present like a rubber band, and Cliff wants to punch him again but he won’t. He was lucky Virgil’s still too out of sorts to have put up much of a fight after whatever happened between him and Dave.
“Okay,” says Dave, though his voice is strained, not his usual solidness holding it up. “Grab your gun. We’ll seek Torben out, then find your son with a bullet through his head.”
Cliff rubs at his knuckle and glances over at Virgil, watches the older man’s face flit between grief and anger. Theres a bruise blooming around his eyes, tendrils of blue and red skating the curve of his eye socket.
“He won’t kill him,” is what Virgil says after a few moments, though he doesn’t sound very sure.
Rob is in another room, still recovering from Virgil’s assault. Cliff doesn’t blame him for keeping away.
“And you want to bet on that?” Dave asks, finally looking up. His cheeks are slightly pink, and there’s a weariness to him that makes Cliff frown.
Cliff guesses he should say something, but his voice has locked itself away, and he fears if he tries to talk he’ll be a fool. He should’ve stayed away.
Cliff hesitates for a moment, then lets his eyes wander to Kirk sat across from him. He’s got his eyes down, shielding the now purple bruise across his chin, picking at his nails, and anger welts at Cliff’s skin again. He tenses his bloodied fist.
He should’ve stepped in sooner. As soon as he knew something was wrong, he should have shielded Kirk. Virgil doesn’t need much to get violent, and hearing Kirk tell him his son was missing had tipped him over the edge. Cliff grinds his teeth.
“We don’t even know it was Torben that took him,” Virgil says after a moment.
Dave gives an exasperated look. “So you think it’s likely that James wandered off on his own?”
“Well, no but-“
“Who else is it gonna be, huh?” Dave goads, jaw tight. “We’re past playing games. Torben wants us, and that’s what he’ll get.”
The room falls into a silence that makes Cliff swallow, looking between the two men anxiously. He hopes Dave doesn’t mean that. He hopes Dave isn’t going to risk his life for what? For James?
“What about Lars.” Virgil’s voice is gruff.
“What about him?” Dave snaps, eyes narrowed.
“We can take him. A son for a son. He won’t kill James if we threaten Lars.”
“And would you do it, if it came to it?” Dave asks, though his face is cold, he leans forwards a little. He wants to know where Virgil’s at, he wants to know how far he’s willing to go. “Would you kill Lars to make a point?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Kirk shrieks, rising up from his chair, “you can’t kill him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Watch your tongue, boy,” Virgil sneers, “we all have to make sacrifices.”
“You kill Lars, Torben will kill James,” Kirk protests.
“I’m not planning on killing him,” Virgil replies. “But if things go south, I’m not holding back.”
Kirk blanches, looking between Dave and Virgil before finally looking at Cliff.
“Cliff,” he pleads, “you can’t let them do this. If you do it like this, they’ll take Lars away. I won’t ever see him again.”
Cliff looks at him for a long moment, wondering how to go about this. Ultimately, Cliff doesn’t care about Lars. But he does care about Kirk and Kirk cares about Lars, and he can’t stay silent when Kirk’s looking at him like his worlds falling apart. So he turns to Virgil and says, “maybe there’s another way.”
Virgil scoffs. “Be quiet, Burton. I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“But Lars is vulnerable already. Kidnapping someone from a hospital is hard enough, but he’s an Ulrich, Torben will have eyes everywhere.”
“This isn’t up for debate,” Virgil says, gritting his teeth. “We make him walk out of there. Sign him out. Torben can know that we have him, I don’t care.”
“He won’t just walk out with us,” Kirk says, a little desperate. “He’s not gonna wanna go anywhere with you.”
“That’s why I have a gun,” Virgil replies, arching an eyebrow.
Kirk sends a pleading look to Cliff, but Cliff is unsure of what else to say. When Kirk realises he’s going to find no help from him, he turns to Dave.
“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Dave says, exasperated. “If it were up to me, I’d say we kill him.”
Cliff knows Dave doesn’t mean that; Lars hasn’t done anything too wrong to warrant being murdered, not when he’s been laid up in hospital for so long. But Kirk doesn’t know that Dave’s bluffing, and he lets out a cry, shaking his head.
“You can’t do this,” he says, his eyes wide and wet. “You can’t make him bait.”
Cliff has only seen Kirk this upset before when his mom had died, but he had been seventeen then with rounded cheeks, and Cliff can’t say his naivety has gotten any better since he became an adult. If Kirk thinks he has any say in this, he’s wrong. He should have learnt by now that these men, these huge, rich men elbowing their way through the world will not spare his feelings if they’ve gotten bigger shit to deal with. Especially Virgil, the man is not even a good father to his son, so there is no way he’s going to have a change of heart and leave Lars out of this.
And maybe this is the point Cliff steps in. Backs Kirk up, show him he supports him, but he knows he won’t be listened to. He looks back at his bruised knuckles. No, he won’t say anything. Even if it hurts Kirk. Kirk needs to know this fight isn’t about him. It was never about him, or Lars, or James, hell even Jason. But they pulled themselves into it and are now surprised they’ve gotten caught in the crossfire.
He knows taking James would have been the last straw for Torben. This is the man who set fires so he wouldn’t have to kill any of them directly, so for him to actually take James and, most likely, hurt him, Cliff knows things are about to come to a head. Virgil may not be the best father, but Cliff knows he’d fight anything and everyone to keep James safe, for better or for worse. He doesn’t think Torben will have the guts to actually kill James, at least not at this point, because instead of bargaining, Virgil will shoot him point blank, no questions asked. There will not be a game because Torben would’ve already lost.
So, Cliff finds he kind of agrees with Virgil. Having Lars in their group will mean they have leverage, one they wouldn’t have otherwise. Cliff knows Virgil means it when he says he’d kill Lars if he had too. He has always believed in an eye for an eye, and Pam had paid the price before.
“Please,” Kirk says, and he’s looking at Dave now, a bold move. “Don’t do this.”
Dave doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches Kirk, a little curious, and Cliff is wondering if he sees himself in him. Once, Dave had been his age, and Cliff had been there too. Dave had always loved a little too hard, that was why he could never let Cliff go, not entirely, when he’d broken up with him to marry Pam. He always loved with his heart, something Cliff loves about him; behind the cold and calculating demeanour, he would protect those who he loves with everything he has. But those people are only Jason and Pam. And maybe Cliff, though Cliff thinks he might just have wishful thinking there. Dave will not spare feelings for anyone else, least of all Kirk.
“Dave.” The voice comes from behind them, and they turn to see Jason stood in the doorway. Cliff didn’t hear him coming and the fool doesn’t have his crutches which means he walked down on his bad leg. “Don’t pull Lars into this. James will never forgive me.”
Dave arches an eyebrow, sitting back a little. “What should we do then?”
At least Dave is more willing to hear Jason out than Kirk. That can change things.
“Give him some money. Write him a check. Anything.”
“Oh that’s just great, we’ll roll over whilst he kills my son. Or did you forget that James is at stake?” Virgil says.
“I’m aware,” Jason says, steely gazed. “Take me. I’m the one who shot Lars. I should pay for it.”
“No,” Dave says, and it’s the most forceful he’s sounded in hours. “You’re staying here.”
“No, I think that’s a good idea,” Virgil says, and Cliff tenses, sensing the air shift, tension thrumming through the room. “Maybe it’s not money Torben wants. Maybe it’s payback.”
“I said no,” Dave growls, and Cliff looks between them. He knows the two of them may have fought things out, but years of anger would not just be sorted in a few hours.
“He’s the one that made things worse,” Virgil accuses, stabbing a finger at Jason. “If anyone should be sacrificed for James, it’s him.”
“Enough,” Dave shouts, and Cliff flinches, wide eyed at the complete look of anger on Dave’s face. “Jason’s staying here. End of story.”
“We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t sent my son to do your own dirty work,” Virgil fires back. “It’s only fair you pay the price.”
“Guys,” says Cliff, his mouth moving before his mind. He clears his throat when both pairs of angry eyes snap to him. “Jason’s injured. He won’t be able to give a fair fight if they start on him. He should stay here.”
Dave’s eyes soften a little.
“That settles it then,” Virgil says after a moment. “We’ll take Lars.”
Kirk flicks his attention to Cliff, but when Cliff still stays silent, a look of betrayal flashes across his face.
“Take me with you,” Kirk says, turning to Virgil. “I’ll convince him to come with you. Please, take me with you.”
Virgil eyes him for a second. “I’ll consider it.”
Kirk nods, but Cliff knows he’s upset. He wishes he could say something, but he doesn’t know what to say, or if his words will even be appreciated. So he squeezes the bruises on his knuckles and hopes they’re about to do the right thing.
— —
No one says a word on the way to the hospital.
Kirk sits in the backseat of Virgil’s car, anxiety sweeping over him, his broken toe making itself very known. They’ve left Cliff by the phone in case Torben calls, and he hates that he’s had to go without him. He knows this isn’t a good idea.
He knows Lars isn’t just going to walk out of there with them. Nevermind the fact the that he can hardly walk, Kirk is sure Lars would not want to go anywhere with Dave when the man cut his finger off. He doesn’t know how he’s going to convince Lars of anything after their last meeting. Guilt scrapes at him, makes his head feel fuzzy and his stomach hollow, because he tried hard to keep Lars out of this. He’s kept him mostly in the dark, and told him to stay at the hospital.
I don’t need you. He closes his eyes with a grimace. He didn’t mean it, but Lars doesn’t know that. Lars probably doesn’t want to see him right now and here he is, about to bombard him with Virgil and Dave and demand he comes with them.
And Kirk’s pissed at Cliff for not stepping up. He needed him to say something, he knew no one was going to listen to him without Cliff. But Cliff stayed silent. Kirk never thought of Cliff to be a coward until now.
And now he finds himself on Lars’ floor of the hospital, trailing behind two intimidating men, knowing full well Virgil has brought a gun.
He thinks of James, and hopes he isn’t hurt too badly. He feels guilty for letting James go on his own, but he didn’t expect he would be kidnapped. Kirk honestly thought Torben would not have the guts to do that.
They stop outside Lars’ room, ignoring the curious gazes of the nurses at the nurse station, and Virgil turns to him, eyebrows drawn down. He’s got a bag of clothes, Jason’s clothes, on his shoulder, ready for Lars.
“No funny business,” he says gruffly. “You convince him otherwise I’ll step in. Got it?”
Kirk nods quietly. Virgil doesn’t seem to be taking any shit. He glances at Dave briefly. The older man has a sickly sheen to his face, eyes bloodshot, and he’s been walking with a slight limp.
“Kirk, this is on you. Actually make yourself useful for once.”
Kirk flits his attention to the floor and takes in a stuttering breath. He can do this. As much as this will hurt, he knows Lars will get even more hurt otherwise.
He waits a moment, psyching himself up, then he pushes the door open.
Lars is in bed, watching the tv, and his eyes snap to the door, a flash of surprise flitting across his face before it’s replaced by a blanket stare. There’s a flush still over his cheeks, and Kirk knows he’s probably still not feeling good.
“Kirk?”, he says, though he sounds wary, eyes slowly moving up to look at the two men looming over them. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry,” is what Kirk starts with, stepping into the room as Virgil shuts the door. He gets closer to the bed, watching Lars lean away. “I need you to listen to me. You’ve got to come with us.”
Lars frowns. “What?”
“Just-,” Kirk stops, taking a breath. “Lars, I can’t explain-“
“You told me you don’t need me,” Lars says, looking down at his lap. “Why the hell should I listen to you?”
He’s obviously pissed, and Kirk doesn’t blame him. There’s a lifelessness in his voice that makes Kirk wince, and he wants to reach out and apologise, pretend none of this is happening. Pretend he’s not about to get his boyfriend kidnapped. He swallows.
“Lars, it isn’t like that-“
“What the fuck is going on?” Lars snaps. “You’re not telling me anything.”
Kirk can hear Virgil shift behind him, obviously getting impatient, but Kirk doesn’t know what to say to make this better.
“It’s complicated.”
“Fuck complicated,” Lars says. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Before Kirk can reply, the backpack is thrown onto the bed, jolting Lars, and Virgil pushes Kirk to the side.
“Get dressed,” he gruffs. “You’re coming with us.”
Lars must be intimidated by Virgil but he doesn’t show it. He sticks his chin up. If he didn’t look so ill still then Kirk would think Lars actually would have a chance of standing his ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Lars, don’t throw a fit,” Dave interjects, a little more exasperated than Virgil. “Just put on the damn clothes.”
“Kirk,” Lars says, looking up at him, and Kirk meets his eyes. “Did you find James?”
Kirk doesn’t know whether to lie to him or not. He should just tell him the truth, maybe that will make Lars want to come with them to find him. But Lars doesn’t know what’s going on. As far as he’s aware, Dave and Virgil are enemies, and here they are now, both of them standing in the same room. He might think this is a set up, and then he won’t believe Kirk anyway.
“Kirk?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Virgil spits, towering over the bed. “This is me being nice. You either get dressed, or I’ll walk your bare ass out of here.”
“Like fuck you are,” Lars replies. “You can’t just come in here-“
Virgil is quick, pulling the gun from his back pocket, directing it straight at Lars’ chest. The colour drains from Lars’ face, and Kirk wonders if he can feel it all over again, the bullet piercing through this chest, bleeding all over the driveway.
“Shut the fuck up. Get dressed.”
Lars is silent for a few moments and his gaze drops to his lap again. He looks like he could cry, and Kirk just wants to be able to hold him and take him away from all of this, somewhere where he can recover in peace.
“Can I at least get dressed in the bathroom?” Lars says, his voice quiet.
Virgil narrows his eyes. “Don’t try anything.”
“What the fuck am I gonna do?,” Lars says, and whatever he was feeling before is now closed off behind a thick wall. “Jump out the window?”
He grabs the bag and his IV pole, and manages to slide out of bed, a bit wobbly on his feet at first before he makes his way to the bathroom. At least he seems to be walking a bit better. Kirk doesn’t know how he’s going to be okay without help from the hospital.
“I knew this wasn’t a good idea,” goes Dave when Lars shuts the door, rubbing at his forehead.
Virgil rolls his eyes, putting the gun down. “Go cry about it, Mustaine. It’s not like he doesn’t have a choice.”
“Yeah, come with us or get shot again.”
“He could’ve made things easier. It’s not my fault he won’t come quietly.”
“You’re the one who brought a gun,” Dave points out. “I could’ve persuaded him.”
Virgil scoffs. “Huh, okay whatever. I’ll leave and I’ll see you in a few days when you’ve talked him around.”
“Fuck you.”
Kirk chews at his lip. He feels anxious, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers as he stands between Dave and Virgil. He doesn’t know how things could get worse from here. They really have hit rock bottom.
“I think you can put that away now,” Dave says, nodding at the gun in Virgil’s hand.
“Huh?”
“Well, you can hardly walk out of here with a gun against his back,” Dave snaps, rubbing at his forehead. “He knows you have it. He won’t try anything.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s not stupid. He doesn’t stand a chance against a gun. He knows that first hand.”
Virgil considers it for a moment then sighs, sliding his gun into his back pocket. “If anything goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”
Dave doesn’t answer. Kirk rocks on his heels, not so patiently waiting for Lars to exit the bathroom. At least Virgil and Dave don’t look like they’re going to kill each other anymore. Kirk guesses it could be worse.
The sound of the lock sliding catches their attention, and Kirk looks up as Lars steps out, dressed in a tshirt and jeans Dave had borrowed from Jason. Lars stands there for a moment, looking between the three of them with an expression Kirk doesn’t recognise, and he doesn’t like it. The IV pole looks to be abandoned, only a little blood dripping down Lars’ arm, and Kirk wants to grab him and leave.
“Cmon,” Virgil says gruffly, inpatient, but Lars doesn’t move, staring between them.
The tension is thick, and Kirk swallows, looking between Lars and the two men. He doesn’t know what Lars is thinking. It’s not like he can go against Virgil or Dave.
“Lars,” Virgil says, harsher, now, reaching out to grab onto Lars’ arm, but Lars is quicker, spinning as he pulls a gun out of his back pocket, shakily pointing it at Virgil.
Virgil holds his hand up, the other going back towards his own gun.
“Don’t,” Lars says, keeping the gun held high.
“What are you gonna do?” Virgil asks. “Shoot me?”
“I might.”
“Lars-“ Dave tries but Lars shakes his head.
“Let me go.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Virgil says.
Lars shakes, flicking his attention briefly to Kirk, looking for some support, but Kirk doesn’t have any to offer. Maybe he should go with Lars. He could leave all this behind. He takes a step forward, but Lars points the gun at him instead, and all the breath leaves Kirk’s chest. He never thought Lars would point the gun at him. He never thought Lars would put him in danger.
But Kirk’s backed him into a corner, one where he’s scared and hurt and Kirk just told him he doesn’t want him. And so Lars has nothing to lose.
With Lars distracted, Virgil reaches for his gun, but Lars sees him, pivots, and shoots him in the arm. Virgil yelps, falling backwards, hitting into the bed, and Lars looks between them with wide eyes before he runs.
Kirk doesn’t know how he does it, he chalks it up to adrenaline, but Lars is out of the room before anyone can grab him.
A nurse runs into the room, looking around. She must not have seen Lars run out in the commotion.
“What the hell’s gone on in here?” she cries. “Was that a gunshot? Where’s Lars?”
She looks frantic, obviously ready to call security, or worse, the police, and Kirk doesn’t know how they’re going to get out of this. He can hear Virgil grunting behind him as he gets to his feet.
“Janet,” says Dave as he steps forward, his voice sickly sweet. “How’s Joe?”
The nurse looks at him for a long moment. “Mr Mustaine? I- I - do you have a gun?”
“Of course not,” he replies. “Everything’s fine.”
“I’ve got to call the police.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Janet. Prison’s cold this time of year. I can always have the judge take another look at Joe’s file-“
“No,” she pleads, face pale. “What should I do?”
“Wait ten minutes, then call the cops,” he says, matter of factly. “We’ll be out of your hair. You’re the senior on this ward, aren’t you? You know better than anyone how to keep everyone safe.”
She looks like she doesn’t agree. “I guess.”
“Thank you, Janet. We’re leaving.”
Dave leads the way, with a stern glance at Kirk, so Kirk scurries on behind with Virgil in tow, taking the stairs out to the back of the hospital.
He guesses the nurse must have been a contact of Dave. He knows Dave must have connections everywhere.
“That’s just great,” Virgil snaps when they’re out of the hospital, jogging to keep up with Dave’s speed. “Why the hell did he pull a stunt like that?”
“Well, he did think you were gonna kill him,” Dave says.
“I wasn’t gonna kill him.”
“He didn’t know that,” Dave replies. Then, “How’s the arm?”
Virgil grunts. “Barely a graze.”
“He couldn’t have gone far,” Kirk says, his voice wavering. “He could hardly walk.”
“He’s probably still in the hospital,” Virgil says.
“Or he’s running on adrenaline and could be anywhere,” Dave snaps, stopping just before the car park. “There’s no point trying to find him now. He’ll probably go back to Torben anyway. We just have to find another way. We need to get out of here.”
“So we’ll just have to wait for them to call?” Virgil asks. “That’s just great.”
“Torben won’t kill James,” Dave says. “Too much is at stake. You have to trust me.”
“Like when you said to put my gun away?”
Dave sighs. “Well I didn’t know he’d have a gun. Where the fuck would he have gotten a gun?”
It takes Kirk a few moments to realise, but when he does, he feels sheepish and stupid. “I think it’s James’ gun.”
“What?” Virgil says, looking down at him.
“James lost his gun. Lars must have taken it.”
Virgil sighs, tilting his head back. “This is a mess.”
“We’ll get James back,” Dave says, and he’s earnest now. “I promise.”
Hey!! Just wondering if you'll ever continue "Into Ruin I Am Sinking"
Hey! Sorry I only just saw this. Currently, I don’t have any plans for that fic. I just don’t vibe with it anymore. But I won’t say I’ll never finish it, it just won’t be any time soon
Hey hey hey!!!! Soooo are you still writing Don't Cry 😭😭😭
Hey Madame! I hope you’re doing okay! ❤️
I’m so sorry for the radio silence lately, but yes! The next chapter is about 75% done and I’m hoping to finish it tonight so it should be posted in the next few days!
I’m genuinely so sorry for being away from here, I feel like I’m completely out of the loop lol. But after my next assignment, I’ll have a lot more free time to write, so I’m hoping to continue Don’t Cry more frequently, and possibly finish it before the new year, and I’ll be on here more often!
I can understand completely why Lone would want to take Jason out. He did shoot Lar. But wow. So Lone was on Torben's side the whole time. I guess because it's her husband. But after all the shit Torben did. I thought Lone hated him. Well, birds of the same feather flock together. Poor Lar 😭
Yeah poor Lars 😭 but maybe she’s not awful, she did stick up for Lars at the hospital. I think it will be interesting to see how she deals with James situation!
I knew Lone was dirty. That whole motel scene smelled like a setup. From when she picked up James and dropped him off at the hotel that Jason was staying at. And that means Lone was watching Jason when she heard the rumor that Jason shot Lars. Because remember it wasn't confirmed just yet. Ron only told them the description of the person who shot Lars.
But then boom!!! A distraught James was handed to her on a silver platter after fighting with his dad. She took him there to that hotel and set him up. Then Jason told James that he shot Lars. She was listening. And she got her confirmation. She told Torben. And Torben told Virgil.
All she was doing was biding her time. For when she would get back at Jason. Because she knew very well she couldn't just kill him like that. She had no money or means to get Lars out of town. Or even protect him. Dave would have tucked Lars in to sleep with his bare hands and have Lone watch him do it. Cause mans doesn't play about his son.
So that's when the plan came in after the fire didn't work out. The plan was to shoot Jason in the leg. And have Virgil kill Jason and Dave.
And this also explains why Torben is desperate for Dave to die. Because he will get Dave's assets.
WOW!!! This story is amazing!!! This is one of those stories where I HAVE to come back and read over again because I love it so much!!! You did such an amazing job with it!!! All these puzzle pieces that were scattered are being put together perfectly. And I'm so happy that you allowed us (the readers) to put the puzzle pieces together. You kept ENGAGED from the beginning to the end!!!
God, I love this story!!! And love your writing!!! I wish I could give you kudos for every chapter 🙏🏽 👏🏽 🙌🏾 💙
Yep she set it up!! You’re right! She’s just been trying to kill Jason for shooting her son all along, just not directly! I think she cares about Lars a lot more than Torben does so she would have been in this to get back at Jason, rather than Dave like Torben
Ahhhh Madame you’re so sweet 🥹 thank you for your continued support, you’ve been here from the very start and I cannot thank you enough! 😘❤️ I honestly couldn’t have written this fic without my readers. It really does mean the world to see people read it. Thank you so much 💜
“Because their business’ should have been mine,” Torben declares. “They never worked for it like I did. Virgil was born into money. Dave barged his way into it, he got some money young from his dead parents and invested it into his own little drug empire. And I worked from nothing. I didn’t have money. I went to school, I got a degree, I trained day and night to be able to fire a gun precisely. Meanwhile those two didn’t even have to try. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
YEEEEEEEEAAAHH WE FUCKING DID IT!! 🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻🤟🏻
The ringing in his ears is what he wakes up to first. His mouth is cottony and thick, and his head feels heavy, chin pressed to his chest as he tries to get his bearings, realise he is alive and very much so if the pulsing in his head is anything to go by.
He goes to touch his forehead, but his hands halt, tied behind his back, and he groans, his reality finally seeping into his consciousness.
He gingerly looks up, blinking rapidly against the dark spots in his vision, and finds himself in the middle of a very large room. It looks to be some kind of warehouse, abandoned and unloved, and here he is, tied to a chair right in the middle of it.
Confused, he pulls on his restraints, but it’s no use. He’s not going anywhere. He thinks back to the hospital, of the men that attacked him, and wonders who the hell would want him.
He wonders if anyone will even realise he is missing.
He sniffs, twists his arms, shaking the hair from his face as he gets increasingly anxious. He doesn’t know how the hell he’s going to get out of this.
“I told my guards to be gentle with you.”
James pauses. The voice is coming from behind him, and he knows it. He swallows.
Torben rounds the chair, stopping to stand in front of James., his long hair swept from his face, his eyes dark. He looks down at him for a moment, meeting James’ defiant stare, before he grabs his head, pulling it down.
“Seems like they didn’t listen to me,” he tuts, thumbing at the blood crusted in James’ hair before pushing James back again. James’ head falls back, slight whiplash, and he growls, jaw hard.
“So what’s your plan now, huh?” he says, glad that his voice still sounds firm. “You’re gonna kill me? My dad will kill you.”
Torben lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “No,” he says, pausing for a beat, his face twisting cruelly. “I’m gonna beat you. I’m gonna wish you’d never been born. Then I’m gonna give you back to your old man in a deal. He lets me go, you don’t die. Simple.”
James is not sure how much damage Torben can inflict on him. He’s a small man, smaller than James, with not a lot of muscle. He is not the powerhouse of Virgil and Dave.
“You think he’s that naive?” James sneers, wiggling in his restraints.
“No,” Torben says, and he punctuates his words with a punch. It hits James in the cheekbone, and his head flies to the side.
“I think he’s stupid,” Torben continues, “he’s always been thick compared to me.” He leans down, puts his hands on James’ knees so they’re at eye level. “He’s nothing compared to me. He’ll come here guns blazing and not fucking think.”
“Oh yeah?” James goads, “if you’re so great, why do you have to work for Dave?” He can tell he has hit a nerve but he can’t stop himself. He’s pissed and hurting. And he will not go down without a fight. Especially against a coward. “Where is your empire?”
Torben punches gain, knuckles against jaw, and James’ teeth puncture his cheek, blood filling his mouth.
“As long as Dave and Virgil hated each other, everything was fine,” Torben says, shaking his wrist. “As long as the marriage went okay, I was gonna be okay. But guess what?”
He punches James in the nose. “You fucked it up. You made my life a living hell because you couldn’t just do as your told.”
James heaves for breath, his nose bleeding all over his face, and he says “And what about Lars? Do you care about him at all.”
He’s not sure Torben does. James questions his own father’s love, but he’s not sure Torben even cares for Lars.
“Of course,” Torben says, but there’s no conviction to his voice. “But this is his fault too. I told him to get out. And he failed. Not for the first time.”
“He failed? He fucking failed?” James cries, his wrists rubbing raw against the rope binding them, tasting blood on his tongue. “He was shot!”
“Shut the fuck up, James,” Torben says, punching him again. “All you do is cause problems. You’re a disgrace to your father. You’re a disgrace to your mother.”
James spits blood on the floor, looks up at Torben with dark eyes. “Don’t talk about my mom.”
“Why? You think she was innocent? Isn’t she the reason Pam died? Didn’t she leave you?”
He doesn’t understand, how does Torben know she’s still alive?
“What did my dad ever do to you?” James says, steering them away from the idea that his mom doesn’t want him, doesn’t need him. He knows that’s not true. Rob had said so. “Why do you hate him and Dave so much?”
“Because their business’ should have been mine,” Torben declares. “They never worked for it like I did. Virgil was born into money. Dave barged his way into it, he got some money young from his dead parents and invested it into his own little drug empire. And I worked from nothing. I didn’t have money. I went to school, I got a degree, I trained day and night to be able to fire a gun precisely. Meanwhile those two didn’t even have to try. Do you know how that makes me feel?”
“But you betrayed them,” James says, with ignoring Torben’s whining, “at Napa Valley.”
Torben lets out a huff of laughter, shaking his head as he steps away slightly. “That was Lone’s fucking fault.”
“Oh that’s real nice, blaming your innocent wife.”
“You think she’s innocent?” Torben’s eyebrow is raised, and a mild look of surprise settles on his face.
“Tell me, James,” he continues, cocking his head. “How did you find Jason at the motel? And how did I know Jason was there to shoot him?”
James doesn’t know how to answer that because he doesn’t know. He twists his wrists.
“And do you know what, that set up, shooting Jason in the leg, it wasn’t even my idea,” Torben says with a grin. “It was hers.”
James shakes his head, not believing him. Lone seemed like such a nice woman. She had spoken to him at the hospital. She had kept him safe when he had gotten drunk. She wouldn’t do that.
“She took the money at Napa Valley because we had nothing,” Torben says. “We looked just as rich as the others, we had guards and a big house but I was running on savings. And she tried to save us.”
“Well why didn’t you just talk to them?” James replies, confused. Torben punches him again, and James hears bone crunch under his fingers.
“Have you ever spoken to your father?” Torben says, breathless. “And Dave, he hardly spoke to me. And it’s no wonder, after I found out about him and Cliff.”
James wishes he could wipe away the blood from his face. It drips in his lap.
“How did you find out?” he says, words slurring slightly around the edges as the world blurs.
“I sent Lone to speak to Pam to gather information. Pam told her she was scared Dave was cheating on her and gave her a picture of Dave and Cliff kissing. And Lone, bless her soul, managed to replace Dave’s will with one I had typed up. He never even noticed. Virgil was meant to kill Dave after that fire. And I would’ve inhereted everything.”
James frowns, looking up at him. “What?”
“That fire was never meant to kill Virgil. It was meant for you and Cynthia. I knew Dave and Cliff were planning the fire, and so I told Virgil Cliff was there that night. I expected him to kill Dave but he didn’t. And Dave didn’t kill him either. Pam just unfortunately got caught in the crossfire, which is a shame because I liked her the most.”
“You’re a monster,” James spits, but Torben just shrugs.
“I’m a businessman.” He punches James then, over and over and over, and James just has to sit there and take it, wheezing for breath between hits as Torben takes all of his pent up anger out on him.
Eventually, after what feels like hours, Torben stops, and James’ head falls forwards, chin to his chest. He can hardly see out of his right eye, and he thinks he might be missing some teeth. He wants to puke and crawl away but he can’t move.
He hears Torben shuffling about and hopes he’s finally leaving him, but then a hand grabs his chin and forces his head upwards. He rapidly blinks his eyes, only seeing out of one, and Torben sneers down at him, mocking.
“I saw Rob was at your house,” he says, smearing the blood against James’ chin. “I guess you’re wondering what happened to your mom.”
James can neither confirm or deny when his tongue is swollen and he feels his head might fall off if he moves it, but the look in Torben’s eyes makes him feel queasy.
Torben grins. “Maybe my wife would know something about that.”
“No,” James moans, tears pricking at his eyes. “No.”
Torben cackles, lets James’ chin smack down into his chest, and James loses his equilibrium, fighting for air as Torben’s words sink into him, and within moments darkness pulls him down, and he passes out.
— —
There are fingers on his face, light pressure, padding over his sore cheekbone, and he groans, consciousness swooping down and gripping him tight. He tries to move away from the touch but it follows his movements, and he finally blinks his eyes open, looking up.
He finds Lone sat in front of him, though she does not meet his eyes. She’s tracing her fingers across his nose now, and he frowns, looks at the concentration pulling her face taut.
“I think it’s just your nose that’s broken,” she says, finally sitting back before grabbing something from the floor. “Maybe your cheekbone.”
He says nothing, just watches her as she pulls out a wipe and begins dabbing at the crusted blood under his nose.
He swallows thickly, clearing his throat. “You know where my mom is?”
She pauses for a moment but she does not address him, instead turning her attention to her lap, fiddling to get another wipe out of the pack.
Anger at her lack of acknowledgement, he twists against his bindings, feeling skin chafe, and he lets out a choked cry.
“You knew she was alive all this time and you didn’t say anything?”
“James-“ she says, eyes down, but he interrupts her, ignoring the pulsing in his head.
“Where is she?” He hopes she doesn’t know. He hopes she hasn’t kept this from him.
Lone finally meets his eyes, and they are wet and raw.
“James, I need you to understand. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit,” he says, grits his teeth.
“I lied because I was trying to keep you safe. I didn’t want you involved in this.”
“Where is she?” James barks, feeling dizzy as his emotions run rampant.
Lone holds his gaze for a moment, and James isn’t sure if she’ll say anything at all, then her mouth opens.
Before she can say something, there is the sound of a door opening and clattering shut, and James twists his head slightly to see Torben walking towards them, a cellphone in his hand.
“Glad to see you’re awake, James,” he says as he approaches before he turns to Lone. “I suppose I’ve not done too much damage.”
She says nothing, her face stoic, and he turns his back to her, instead looking at James.
“I have a job for you.”
“I’m not doing anything for you,” James spits.
Torben eyes him for a long moment, obviously contemplating whether to hit him again, but eventually decides against it.
“You’re going to speak to your father.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Just do as I say,” Torben barks, fisting at James’ tshirt. “This will go a lot easier if you cooperate.”
James spits at his face, not ready to go down without a fight. Torben stumbles back, a growl emitting from his lips.
