Page 7 of Natural-Born Cullers

And Jan… he loved him for every goddamn riled step he made towards the summerhouse on his own.

Because thatwasMartin there.HisMartin.

Chapter 3

Fathers

Resting against the bedroom doorway, cap low and almost hiding his quiet intrusion, Gray brushed distractedly at his lip as he observed who slept inside.

Light slept facedown to the world, arms hidden under a pillow as the wildness to his long hair fanned out around him. He looked exhausted, like he’d fought the devil in his sleep, the discarded covers being the only one to call out victim as they whimpered on the floor from the assault. Only pyjama bottoms kept Light covered, but he didn’t seem to feel the chill of the morning.

Back in the manor, Martin’s cell had been so different: the single bed bolted to the floor, restraints close by, TV installed behind a plastic covering so Martin couldn’t… piss on any parts inside and cause a fire before he danced naked in the smoke. Drawings had lined his cell walls, delicate curves and sweep of an artist’s hand done to promote calm on a subliminal level. Gray had overseen enough interrogations to know how the environment could be manipulated to taunt the soul, Halliday and Craig having used it back then for their own ends, everyone having a manipulative side at heart.

Gray gave a soft sigh and rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

That was unfair, he knew that. Halliday… Craig… they beat with the best kind of heart when it came to the Masters’ Circle and their specialist psychiatric teams and overall care over Jack, Martin… Jan, and now Light.

Only Light’s confinement was so different to Martin’s. A TV sat on the unit close by, full access given to the lounge, bathroom, shower, indoor pool, not to mention the hall that had been built with Light’s drumkit and love of music in mind. Light still undertook university study here, along with his love of chemical testing in Gray’s manor, all given by more working focus with… Gray’s offer of teaching.

But it was all still a cell. One that came with a locked door and windows just like Martin’s. And like Martin, an electronic tag made its heavier presence known around Light’s right ankle.

Gray crossed his arms, his frown deepening.

Eighteen. Light hadn’t even seen his nineteenth birthday yet, and he had three deaths to his name. Zak, Cath… Lee.

Gray looked off to his left as a door came open.

Scratching as cluelessly at his head as Jan, Simon came out of the second bedroom, wearing shirt, trousers, but no shoes yet. There was no startle in eye with seeing Gray by Light’s room, and a nod came his way. Simon didn’t seem to take offence with how Gray didn’t return it, but Gray frowned, wondering when he’d shifted from using Andrews’ surname to… Simon.

With Ray over in the manor, Simon started making his rounds of the summerhouse, tugging a device from a jacket hung close to the door that would check the security of the locks and windows. At twenty-eight, he was ten years older than Light, yet he carried a softer look ofYou forgot your library book, sirbetter than any librarian Gray had met. Simon could pass as any student-teacher, barely dipping his USB stick into a laptop port. Yet hisfuck consentMI5 game play? The devices he handled as Gray’s MI5 elite unit manager? Get him alone with a laptop, and Simon owned most lives that thought they could walk the dark web unnoticed, and sometimes, just sometimes he’d have a harder look that reflected that.

He’d certainly owned Light for a while as Light had walked the dark web. But for a brief moment after Brin’s death, there’d been feeling there for Simon off Light, and Gray would use everything at his disposal to burrow backintothat feeling in order to keep Light focused on the walk back into the good.

Gray turned his look away, resting back on Light as a knock came at the front door. A moment later air stirred around Gray, down the back of his neck.

“A little early for breakfast, Martin,” said Simon. “It’s not booked until eight. There’s a visiting roster for a reason.”

“Oh, deepest apologies.” The rattle of a tray came as it was placed on the table. “Let me rectify that fuck-up.”

The door opened again, and a plate smacked onto the concrete outside.

Giving a sigh, Gray headed into the kitchen to catch Martin holding the door open for Simon.

“Well go on, then, Sandra.” Martin eyed him up. “Clean your shit up. Boss is watching.”

Simon held the look, but he didn’t bite back. He’d been around Martin long enough now to know what battles to fight, what lines not to cross. He’d done just that this morning. Martin didn’t like playing service boy, and Simon had pushed him with histoo earlycomment, nothing more. So Martin’s reply lay just as simple in pieces on the concrete outside when it came to sausage and bacon, regardless of whether he got it right over tossing Simon’s out or not.

After getting the brush and pan from a closet, Simon headed out and a look came Gray’s way off Martin.

“Last time I looked, squatters’ rights in Jack didn’t include running a take-out service. Wait and bring it over yourself next time, yeah?”

No princess tag nowadays? Gray buried a smile, then went over and gave a gentle touch to Martin’s abs to move him out of the way. Martin looked down with a cock of brow at the breach of personal space, and Gray held that look as he took one of the three mugs on offer. He didn’t remove his touch. “Jack’s gonna keep pushing to meet Light, Mart.” The scent of coffee easing his soul, he took a sip. “Keep telling him no for now. Jan too.”

Martin snorted and stepped back. “The infection’s spreading, I see. All this… dual control of Light’s?” He flicked Gray a look as he took the last plate off the tray. “Like father, like—”

“What?” Padding of bare foot on laminate flooring came from behind, and Martin stilled as Light eased past. Light looked down at the plates, took one of the coffees, then took a seat at the table, wearing just his pyjama bottoms. Something else seemed to catch his attention, and a look went back the way he’d come, a frown tracing his brow as if he’d heard the call of his name. He shivered, more seemed to shove it away, and glanced at Martin in the next breath, not looking quite with it. “If we’re getting personal over what constitutes family and what doesn’t—” Light tugged over a plate, the colour on his cheeks a lighter shade of… still not quite with it. “—you started questioning just how many Martins or Martinettes you have running wild and naked out there? Because I bet Gray has, Mart.”

Martin cocked a smile as Gray refused a wince. “And morning to you too, Piper,” said Martin. “Tell me, you ready for that offer of a friend yet?”

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