Page 11 of Splitting Secrets
Raze
Seventeen years old
My father slips inside my bedroom on a random Monday night, his face bloodied and hair in disarray.
“Can we talk? It won’t take much time,” he hesitantly asks, sending the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
Elijah Whitlock doesn’t ask anyone for permission to talk to them. If he has something to say to you, you’re going to hear it whether you like it or not.
I nod my head, and he closes the door behind his back. He steps toward me in the room, making a show of trying to gather his thoughts. At least sixty slow, torturous seconds pass before he finally speaks.
“There’s going to come a time where you have to replace me, son,” he explains slowly as he winds a compression wrap around the bruised and swollen skin of his wrist.
“I know,” I murmur into my chest. I was there when he made his bargain. I’ve been training to hide my identity ever since.
He considers me for a moment, his split brow now raised in appraisal. He never goes into detail about the work he does for the Syndicate, but I know that it wears on him. I’ve heard the rumors flying around over the years. Been teased and bullied for being the spawn of Satan. Regardless of how much I want to dispel his unforgivable actions, he will never allow it. He wears his crimes on his skin like a badge of honor, using the town’s fear to get what he wants.
“There’s more to it than what you’ve been told,” he says in a low voice, his eyes flicking toward the closed door where Mom is likely waiting on the other side with an ice pack. “A lot more actions at play.”
I finally shift my full attention from my TV to him, making a show of pausing my video game.
It’s been ten years since he joined the Syndicate and he’s never been shy about his hatred for them, but he doesn’t ever go into detail about it. I want to ask what has caused his change of heart, but I’m afraid of what the answer might be.
The only reason I can think of for transferring information is that he’s anticipating he won’t be around much longer to withhold it.
“You know I do my work for the Midnight Syndicate, right?”
I nod my head, tracking his movements as he slinks over to my desk chair and takes a seat.
“There’s another side that I’ve been working with...people who have been victims of their wrath for centuries, just like us Whitlocks.”
“I thought you said no one knew about our gifts,” I question, narrowing my eyes in suspicion. That was the whole point behind training me how to suppress my gifts in the first place.
He shakes his head. “No one does. That’s not what I mean, I’m just saying—” he rubs the back of his neck. “Fuck, I’m screwing this up, aren’t I?”
I lift my brow in silent confirmation.
“What I’m trying to say, without actually saying it, is that there’s a big group of people who have been fucked over the same way we have by the Syndicate. People with the brains and the resources to start fighting back, and I’ve decided to join them. What we’re doing here...We have a real chance to enact some change.”
“Why would you do that? You’ve said it yourself: Anyone who goes against the Midnight Syndicate is signing their death warrant.”
“Yeah, and who are they going to send after me?” he questions, tapping his good fist against his chest. “Me?”
“Why would you risk it?”
“Because this town has been taken advantage of by those cowards for generations, and we’re sick of it. Because I had to beat my own son to the edge of death and insanity to prevent them from finding out what we really are. And because they covered my son’s murder and allowed his attacker to run free.”
“If you’re so against what they stand for, why don’t you leave them?” I almost sneer, but catch myself just in time.
“You know it’s not that simple. I have you and your mom to think about. I’ve already lost Bane to those bastards. I have no intention of losing any more people that I love.”
“So, what? You want me to join this rebellion?”
“You don’t have to join anything you don’t want to,” he insists, and I have to fight the urge to remind him that I actually do. The moment he’s gone, the Syndicate will own my life, too. “I want you to start coming along with me on my...jobs. I want to show you both sides of what we’re fighting for.”
“What about the Syndicate? Won’t they find it suspicious that you’re carting your kid around with you to do all your work?”
“They’ve been pressuring me to begin training with you so you can take over when I’m gone.”
