Page 123 of Scars Run Deep

“So that’s why you really came here?” he said, smirking around his cigarette as he caught me checking him out. Well, salivating over him, was closer to the truth.

I forced myself out of it, physically shaking my head, as I stepped further onto the balcony. “No. Although I did lie, I don’t have anything to run by you. I just came to check on you. See how you’re doing after that fight with Aurora. I know you didn’t want to have to take it there with her. And there’s also a lot of pressure bearing down on you too.”

He took a drag of his cigarette and sighed peacefully as he blew out the smoke over the balcony. “I’m well.”

It was a lie.

But I couldn’t tell if he actually recognized that.

With him, all that compartmentalization and those mental blocks he’d crafted so well over the years, it was a very real thing that he actually believed he was fine, that he’d convinced himself of it, in order to be it.

“All right, but you know you don’t have to carry this burden alone, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here in your corner.”

“Except for earlier.”

I winced. “Sorry, that fucker, Caleb, is a sore spot for me.”

“I shouldn’t have told you more than the relevant information to explain why he was qualified and trusted to do this with us.”

“No, I’m glad you did. It was a big deal, you being transparent like you promised. Don’t go back on that because of me being a shit.”

He stared at me for a moment.

A long, intense moment.

He wanted to tell me something.

That was the look he got when he was on the verge but struggling with the ramifications of doing so.

I remained silent, just waiting and watching.

“What about Killian? Aurora?” he finally spoke. “The connotations of the skull ring?”

“You’re asking me what I’ll do if there’s a choice to be made?”

He didn’t answer, taking another drag of his smoke instead.

“Do you see that happening then? There’s something you know that could risk dividing us?”

“There are external forces at play. And, for once, I don’t know if I can hold them all at bay.”

I winced. He was out there fighting alone. For us. For our wellbeing, our freedom. For our fucking lives. Kill hated all his secrets, but he didn’t get to see this side of Asher. The fighter trying so hard for us, to keep things from touching us.

I stepped up to him and laid my hand on his shoulder. “I’m a team player. I believe in the sanctity of our brotherhood, what the skull rings represent. But, if it came down to it, if a choice needed to be made, I’ll be here in your corner. I won’t leave you. Ever, brother.”

He stubbed out his smoke, but didn’t speak to it.

Instead, he brushed past me and called over his shoulder, “I have something to show you.”

Confused by the sudden shift and break in all that intensity, I did the only thing I could do, and followed him deep into his studio.

He stopped before a painting I didn’t recognize, a completely new one that was still wet.

He gestured for me to come closer and take it in.

I was no artist, but he’d explained a few things to me about his paintings and this abstract art stuff in general. I was able to interpret and grasp his stuff well enough by now.

I studied it, the harsh and choppy black imagery at the bottom. Shadows crowding around a larger blurred figure, like they were suffocating it or trying to pull it under. There was blood dripping from the blurred figure, his form of sharp and jagged lines. All except the upper part of it that seemed to be free of all of that.

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