Page 31 of Claiming Veronica

Pike rubbed his jaw for a minute, chewing on something, then spit out, “How’d you get away?” The words were blurted out, and Pike looked like he wanted to shoot himself in the ass and call them back. “You don’t have to answer. No, wait. I want you to. We are stepping around a pile of shit all the time. All these fucking secrets. I want to know.”

“Ah, down to the nitty gritty then. Fine. This isn’t really about Veronica.” I leaned forward onto myelbows as he sat in the chair opposite me. “Kent used to go on little … outings to pick up other kids. He wasn’t on the list for more fosters after that supposed accident. Kent liked fresh batches if you know what I mean.” I sent Pike a dark look. There was no need to elaborate on Kent’s predilections as they didn’t change much. Kent had his kinks, but they didn’t vary. He was a straight predator. Kent liked the young boys and always liked one to watch as he engaged in his little games. “Normally, he didn’t take me with him, but I got lucky.” I shrugged. What could I say as far as being lucky went? “This one time, he was worried. He thought I might get away, and he couldn’t have that.”

“What an asshole.”

“Yeah.” Kent was more than an asshole, but there was no reason to get into details. I’m sure Pike realized what I went through. While Pike was there, he’d been my shield in many ways, but when he’d been moved, I’d been alone and Kent’s sole victim unless Kent brought someone else home, which always seemed worse.

Pike’s jaw clenched, the muscles working as if he were grinding his teeth together.

“We were in Seattle for two days before there was a moment for me to get away. I had an opening, and I took it. I was skinny and underweightin an unfamiliar city, but I would have died if I stayed with Kent. So I ran.”

“That’s when you met Victor?” Pike asked sharply, breaking the silence. His voice was hard, but the unmistakable tone of guilt was underneath it.

I nodded, flicking my cigarette into the dirt. “Yeah.”

This was a more difficult conversation than I’d thought. There had been so many times that I’d held onto the memory of my brother as someone who’d been there for me, protecting me. Later, I’d been mad that he’d left me there, but that had been a child’s anger. Pike hadn’t abandoned me as I’d initially thought. He’d been manipulated into thinking I’d died there. Even if he had known, what on earth could he have done? He was a kid. The one thing I’d learned was that we were powerless. Hell, Pike was only a few years older than I was, so he’d been eight? Nine? What the fuck could he have done for me?

At the time, I’d twisted the memories around until I didn’t know if I loved or hated him. Now that I was faced with the man he’d become and the man I was, I wasn’t sure how to balance things out.

He shifted his weight, and the dust kicked up around his boots as he did, the only sound in the stillness. “And Victor?” Pike asked, voice low. "You said you met him on the streets?” he said it like it was a question.

I swallowed the bitterness that came with the name. Victor was a sore spot between us, but I wasn’t about to dance around it. "Yeah, we were just kids then. He knew how to survive, though. Showed me the ropes—where to hide and steal without getting caught. It was better to have someone watching your back."

Pike leaned closer, his voice tense. "And you trusted him?"

Was he giving me shit for seeking out an ally? I flicked my cigarette into the dirt, watching the ash scatter. "I didn’t have much of a choice. It was him or die alone on the streets. We became like brothers. That was all we had—each other. There was no other choice for me. Understand? What could I have done at that point? Turn to the police?” I scoffed. “Foster care? That sure turned out great,” my voice dripped with venom.

I looked off for a minute, trying to keep the memories at bay—the memories of boys scavenging for themselves, but also memories of joy. We were little savages but tasted unparalleledfreedom — the two of us were determined. That sort of thing was forged in fire.

My brother’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening by his sides. I could see the anger building in him, the frustration. He hated this. He hated that he hadn’t known, that he hadn’t been able to stop any of it.

"He wasn’t a saint, but we were kids. All we knew was survival. We did whatever it took. More than anyone, Victor was willing to do whatever it took. He was vicious, but he was loyal to me.” That was one thing that I’d never fault Victor for. He’d never crossed me in any way.

Pike scoffed and gave me what was tantamount to an eye-roll. “Victor was a monster. Loyal to you? What the fuck are you talking about? What do you call what was going on here when he was killing people left and right.” He let out a breath. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. I’m glad you had someone to watch your back on the streets. Someone there for you when I couldn’t be. I wish we had been together.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t crazy.” I struggled to put Victor into terminology that someone else would understand. “He was angry, temperamental, and a sadist.” Pike’s lip curled in disgust. “There was always something in him fundamentally … wrong.” He stared at me, his jaw tight, but he didn’t interrupt. He was giving me space to continue, to lay it all out. “It’s hard to explain. Victor was just,” I shrugged.

“Also, it wasn’t just Victor and me for long," I said, my throat dry as the next name formed on my lips. "There was someone else."

Pike’s brow furrowed. "Someone else?" I nodded. Pike’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. I could feel the weight of his judgment, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. He was angry about Victor coming into Moringrock. Sure, Victor had almost framed him for murder and put him back behind bars, but mostly he was pissed that Victor had nearly murdered Natasha.

"You know how it started," I said. "Victor and I were surviving, stealing, doing whatever we had to on the streets. It wasn’t glamorous, but it kept us alive. That’s when Luther showed up."

Pike’s eyes flickered at the name. He didn’t know him like I did, but he knew enough now to keep quiet and let me talk.

"Luther was our age," I continued, my voice rough with the memories. "But smarter. He saw the potential—we were hungry kids with nothing to lose. He fought to join our group, putup with Victor’s shit, and came up with this idea to host street fights and take bets. Victor and I had already been fighting, but Luther thought bigger than us. Victor saw the potential, too. He was a crazy fucker, but he wasn’t stupid. From there, it grew into big business.”

“Fighting?”

“Luther and I are still running the underground fights. Now we have quite a business.” That was putting it modestly, but I didn’t want to brag. We weren’t operating legally, but we were careful. Luther and I were talking about opening a nightclub soon. That was the next move, which was to start putting down roots.

"And Victor?" Pike asked, his voice sharper now. "How did he fit into all of this?"

I took a deep breath, staring out at the horizon. "Victor was inconsistent and unpredictable, as you can imagine,” I shot him a rueful look. Pike had a closeup look at how unhinged Victor had been. “When he fought, he was a monster, and the bout always ended in a death match.”

Pike scrubbed the back of his neck, signaling that tell-tale tick that meant he was anxious. “You take bets on that shit?”

“Are you judging me right now for how I make my money?” I gave a harsh laugh. “The guy whois the president of a one-percenter club? Give me a fucking break, man.” Grinding the cigarette under my heel, I stood up to pace a little bit. Pike watched me cautiously, but I could tell he wished he hadn’t said anything. “You run drugs and guns. I’m not sure you have much room to give me shit about how I make my money,” I chuckled. “Not to mention, I know you have blood on your hands too. You’re not some saint. Don’t act like you are.”

---