Page 53 of The Phantom's Vice

For some reason, I don’t think I was supposed to hear that last part. “You’re enamored with the photo.” It’s not a question, but Brett answers anyway.

“I just… it’s so weird to think of you like that.” She looks at me, her lips tipped upward in a sarcastic smile. “With friends, you know.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but her words are like a knife to the heart.Or, at least, what I assume it would feel like.“It’s been quite some time since I’ve had one. You’re not far off in your assumptions about me.”

She nods, her brows pulling together in a frown as she turns back to the photo. “So which one’s you? Please tell me you bleach your hair now.”

I shake my head, walking over and standing at her side, my eyes taking in the same young smiling faces. “No. I’m afraid not.”

She reaches out, touching the face of the boy with white hair. When I look at this picture, I see nothing but pain and heartache.I wonder what Brett sees when she looks at it. If she sees a monster or just a little boy crying out for help.

I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyhow. “His name was Brenden,” I say, surprised at the pain in my voice. “He was… my best friend.”

Brett’s mouth turns down, and she turns her head to look at me. “What happened to him?”

I frown at her question, a crushing weight sitting on my chest as I face her, the memories tearing through my mind like a hurricane.

“He died.”

20 years ago…

I lie in bed, staring up at the bottom of Brenden’s bunk. The Rook’s quarters are a lot quieter these days—too quiet, considering this place used to bethe one area of solace in the program. An area of camaraderie, a place of safety.

Now, there’s none of that.

Just last week, I had to hold a knife to Devon’s throat to get him to let Brenden out of his chokehold. Now that just a few of us are left in the program, the stronger boys have taken to picking off the weaker ones. The kinder ones. Ones like Brenden.

I sigh, closing my eyes against the morning sun streaming through the windows. In a few hours, we will be in the circle, and I’ll have to pray Brenden can hold his own against his sparring partner. I know I won’t have the luxury of being paired with him—once, Master tried it, and all we did was jokingly hit each other. Since that day, he’s paired us with the other boys so I can’t protect him.

Some part of me thinks he wants Brenden dead. I’ve heard him whispering about how he’s holding back my “potential,” but I don’t understand why he would think that. Brenden is the only reason I keep going. He’s the reason I wake up and decide to fight every day.

The morning bell breaks me out of my thoughts, and I silently sit up, shoving my feet into my shoes slower than normal.

“You ready, Ghosty?”

I jerk my head up, noticing Brenden’s hand on my shoulder and a wide grin spreading his freckled cheeks. While puberty had me shooting up and leaning out, Brenden experienced the opposite. He’s still that same chubby, freckled boy he was five years ago. Nothing has changed.

It makes me worry about the outcome of today’s match.

I look around our quarters, noting how the other Rooks are shooting Brenden bloodthirsty looks. They want their chance with him today—want the opportunity to thin the pool that much more.

After all, only one of us is making it through this alive. I just always hoped it would come down to Brenden and me, so I could make sure he lives. I owe it to him.

“Why the long face?” Brenden asks, nudging my shoulder with his. “Come on, man. You can’t spend your life worrying. Either we live today or we don’t. It’s all up to fate, man.”

I shake my head, unable to meet his gaze. “You’re wrong, Brenden.”

His smile drops slightly as I shove him off, finishing tying up my boots. I straighten, shooting the other boys a glare as I lead Brenden out of thecabin. He follows at my heels, refusing to say a word.

Brenden is far too willing to accept the cards life handed him. But I won’t. I throw them back in life’s face and spit on them, then I’ll make my own destiny. At least, that’s what I would do in another life. A life where I don’t have to fight my brothers to the death.

The other Rooks and I stand in line at the outer edge of the circles, Brenden close at my side. I lean over, nudging him with my shoulder and offering him a small smile. He returns it, though he looks slightly paler than he did earlier.

Master’s footsteps have me standing up straight, squaring my face and shoulders forward like he taught us. He walks past the six of us, pausing in front of Brenden to look him up and down disapprovingly.

“P-1314. I’m never not surprised to see you still standing here.”

A couple of the boys snicker, and my fist tightens at my side as I resist the urge to wheel my fist into Master’s face. I doubt I could get more than one surprise hit in, but my death would be worth it to see the shock on his face.

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