Page 44 of The Chosen Son

“Well?” I urged, gesturing to the weak little manbaby currently blubbering at my feet. “Hit him.”

Cameron’s chin jerked up, eyes wide. “W-What? Why? No, I c-can’t.” He shook his head hard enough to send hair flopping across his forehead, and his knuckles turned white where he clung to his elbows.

“Cameron, this piece of shit never cared about you. He manipulated you, used you.Abusedyou. He stole your virginity and sold it to make a quick buck.”

Scott turned his face up to Cameron, hands clasped at his chest, pleading. “No, that’s not true. I never meant to hurt you, I… I love you.”

I transferred my grip to his hair and dragged his head back, and his words cut off with a gurgle. “Stop. Talking.” I unspooled a little bit of my terror. It took an embarrassingly small amount to drive him halfway to madness. The guy had the courage of a wet noodle.

Scott curled up in a ball, digging his fingers into the gritty bank. His wail rose in pitch, until Cameron took a step toward me.

“Stop,” Cam whispered harshly, stray tears collecting on his lashes. “Please, Deimos,stop!” His face had gone blotchy, bright red spots high on his cheeks. The color looked beautiful on him.

“Why should I stop? He didn’t.” I let off on the terror only to reach down and grip Scott by the back of the neck, hauling him back into his kneeling position. He let out a little whimper until I gave him a shake. “Look at him, Cameron. Go on, look. Tell me how sweet he was to you, how he made you feel loved and wanted. Tell me he treated you the way you deserve to be treated—like a fucking god. Tell me all that, and I’ll let him go.”

Cameron wiped the tears from his cheeks, his eyes hardening. “I can’t,” he admitted, voice flat and cold.

“And why is that?” I asked, leading him to face everything he’d buried deep inside himself.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Because he didn’t treat me well. He made me feel small and alone.”

Cameron was conflicted, I could tell, but I knew he needed to face everything that had happened. He was holding on to so much. “He’s still selling pictures of you, you know. I found them online. He pays his rent using graphic pictures of your body that he took without consent.So, go on,” I said, nodding. “Hit him. He deserves it, and it’ll make you feel better.”

I didn’t really think he would do it, but Cameron wound back his fist and dropped it across Scott’s jaw like a hammer. The asshole jerked to the side, but I hauled him back for another strike, which Cam delivered like an old pro, blood spattering from Scott’s busted lip and nose.

“I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you,” I said, praising Cam. He’d make a fine partner in crime yet.

But Cameron wasn’t finished. “My shoes… lick them,” he demanded, putting a foot forward.

Scott nodded, leaning forward on hands and knees. “Y-Yes, I’ll do anything.”

Cameron was every inch the vengeful god, and holy shit, it got me so hard. I stroked my rigid length through my pants.

As Cam watched Scott with impassive eyes, though, something seemed to pass over him, and he frowned, stepping back. “That’s enough. Now wipe his memory. You can do that, right?”

I blinked. Did I hear that correctly? “Wait, you want to let him live… and forget?”

He took a long, steadying breath. “Yes.” When he looked at me, his eyes were no longer blazing but hollow. Cold. “Thank you for… trying to give me this, but it isn’t me, Deimos. I’m not a god, and I wouldn’t want to be one either. No one should get to decide someone’s fate, and hurting him isn’t going to repair all the damage he did. But maybe… can you make sure he has nightmares? Ones that will remind him to be a better person. I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

I grinned wickedly, planning out a few choice scenarios to plant inside his brain. “Consider it done. This brand of darkness looks good on you,” I praised.

It didn’t take more than a brush of my fingers to manipulate his thoughts, and a few minutes more to get him into the back of a car, giving Zeek instructions to deposit him back at home. When I held the car door open for Cameron, though, he shook his head.

“I think I’d like to walk,” he said quietly, gaze unfocused. I didn’t like this detached version of him, and I worried that I’d gone too far.

After a moment, I closed the door. “Then if it’s all right with you, I’d like to accompany you.”

He smiled sadly. “Sure, I’d like that.”

We watched as Zeek pulled away from the curb, then we began a slow meander down the sidewalk in companionable silence. It was too late for much activity this far from downtown, but the farther we walked, the more people we saw. The bars had just let out, and everyone was drunk and happy, their boisterous laughter a sharp contrast to the somber mood between us.

Cameron picked at the flecks of dried blood on his knuckles. He huffed a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Gods, Deimos, I can’t believe you made me do that.”

“Hey, you can blame me all you want, I don’t mind, but the choice was always yours to make. And honestly? I’m proud of you.”

He stopped in place, rounding on me. “Proud of me? For violence? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering the god of war raised you, but violence should never be something to make someone proud.”

I ignored his jab, focusing instead of the way his eyes flashed with excitement. It was a far cry from how he’d been acting back in my lair, all mopey and depressed. He was finally alive. “Yes, proud, but not for the reason you might think. I wanted to show you that you could be strong even without your powers, that your worth isn’t tied to your usefulness to others. You are an incredible man just as you are, andI’m proud of you because you stood up for yourself.” He reared back, stricken but speechless. “So, did you? Feel strong, I mean.”

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