Page 44 of The Villain
So much more dangerous.
“Cassian?” she asks.
Does she hear my ragged intake of breath? I clear my throat.Get a fucking grip, I tell myself.
“Not good,” I say. There’s no way around it. Better to be out with it. I can’t shield her from this.
Her breath catches and I can almost see her covering her mouth as her lip trembles and tears pour.
“You need to get Gage tested,” I tell her again for the hundredth time.
“What’s the point?” she asks, her voice breaking. “What could I do if he has it?”
Nothing. That’s what. Nothing, but live in an alternate version of hell, but it’s hell either way.
“I think,” I start, pushing my hand through my hair. “The hardest thing is there’s that moment when he recognizes you. When you see it in his eyes. I think that’s the worst part of this. Maybe if you take Gage. Maybe if he sees his son?—”
“No.” I can see her shaking her head vigorously, pulling herself together. That’s what sobers me, too. “No, Cassian.”
“No,” I say. “Of course not. That was…” Deep breath. “No, Vivi.” Because she and I both know well what the next years of Seth’s life will look like. The Seth we knew is gone. Sometimes I think he’d be better off dead because this disease, it’s cut his life short even if he’s still breathing, still alive. It’s taken him from us, but left a shell of the man we recognize behind. It is the cruelest thing. Huntington’s disease. Early onset dementia is just one of the ways it destroys a life, the lives of those around you. It’s hell. And it fucking terrifies me.
“I sometimes wish he’d died,” she says quietly. “Isn’t that terrible? That I would wish Seth died instead of this.”
I drop into the driver’s seat and close the door, turn up the heating. My feet are wet from the snow, and I recall Allegra’s ballet slippers. The combat boots she changed into as if readying for battle.
“No, it’s not terrible. It would be better for him, too.”
“Mommy,” I hear my nephew’s small, sleepy voice.
“I have to go,” Vivi says quickly, and I imagine her wiping her eyes, mustering up a smile.
“Okay. I’ll come by soon. We need to make a few decisions.”
“Cassian where are you?” she asks as I start the engine again. “Are you out? Tonight?”
“I’m almost back.” It’s sort of true.
“You shouldn’t be driving. The roads are slick.”
“I’ll be fine,” I tell her. “Give Gage a hug from me. And don’t worry. We’ll figure it out, okay?”
“Okay. Go home. And thank you.”
“Goodnight, Vivi.”
I disconnect the call and set my hands on the steering wheel, my mind shifting to Allegra again, conjuring the feel of her, the heat of her. The way she held on to me when I took her.
And then her face when I walked out. Her confusion. Her hurt. What she’d said about wanting to be free of me, about my forgetting, triggered me. Although I should be honest with myself. This is not her fault. It’s mine. I took. Me. I fucking took. It’s not as though she was offering.
I pull out onto the road and I’m more careful now as Idrive into town to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy to get what I need. What she may need. Because I can’t risk passing on the gene that could cause this disease. I can’t ever risk having children. I decided that when my brother was diagnosed. I don’t have the mutation. I’ve been tested. But it’s in our family. My father started showing signs of dementia in his mid-fifties. That was bad enough. But Seth? He wasn’t even thirty-five. It’s why he ‘disappeared.’ Better that people think he’s dead than living like he is. Better even that they think I’m monster enough to kill my own brother.
That was the call when I left the Moretti house. My brother had taken a turn for the worse. It’s time to decide what’s next. Seth did have a plan in place. When he was diagnosed and still lucid, mostly, he made a plan.
And I made a promise.
I just can’t bring myself to do it. Me, the Reaper. Bringer of death. I can’t bring death to him, not even if it’s a mercy. Not even if it’s what he wanted. Not yet.
But I know one thing for sure. No matter what. The Trevino line will end with me.
