Page 112 of Madness Behind the Mask
Myers is as white as a sheet, his hands trembling.
“Know what?” Caden asks.
My heart plummets.
A part of me already knows.I just don’t know whotook him to get to me,if it’s Antonio or–
“Aleric took Leon.”
Caden stumbles back until he collapses on our bed. “It was supposed to be quick,” he says. “He wasn’t supposed to suffer.”
“He could still be alive...” Myers starts, but I shake my head.
Then I stumble back too and sit on the bed with my husband, pulling him into my arms. He trembles,drawingstrength from me even though I don’t feel like I’ve much to give.
He did this.
Caden’s choices led to this.
His attempt to handle it all on his own.
But I can’t hate him in this moment.
I can’t hate him more than he clearly hates himself. “I’m sorry,” he says over and over as he clings to me.
Myers stares at me in silence.I want to hate him for being willing to kill our son.
But he is an uncle as well as a reaper.
Caden is a Boss as well as a father.
And I...I am a victim as well as a mother.
Opening an arm toMyers, I mourn in muted misery. He stumbles towards us. Collapses on his knees in front of us. He loved our boy just as much as we did.
Leonmight have hadto pay for his crimes…
But not like this.
Not under the hands of thatpsycho.
Thepostcomes earlyat our house,soI’ve been up every morningfor the past couple of days,waiting for the mailman to arrive. Alericalways sentus the bodies of our loved ones when Father was alive. I do not see him doing any differently now.
He might be trying to woo me now, to make mechoosehim as he claimed, but he isn’t going to send me flowers and chocolate.He isn’t going to ask meto adance.Isn’t going totake me to the moviesor a picnic under the stars.
No...hisso calledgiftswill come in the twisted forms of his mind.Likethe butchered body ofthe man who hurt me. He won’t care that it’s my son. Won’t understand the devastation that will cause.I am an alpha lion. See me provide.
I’d rather see him rot in Niflhel. Perhaps, I will join him down there just to make sure he does.
“Sau.”
My heart kicks up into my throat as the U.S. postal van comes into view. The dual-toned, white top machine heads for its first stop at the end of the street.
I watch, one hand clutched to the front of my dress as a man with brown hair and glasses gets out to deliver a box to Henry Yales, a soldier who lost his leg to a werewolf during that night our wards were down.Hiswifeanswers the door.The box is handed over. Themailman walks back to his van.
He gets in, starts to drive towards our house.
I hold my breath, desperate for him to stop and finally put me out of my misery. I hate waiting for this delivery. I hate getting up every morning, terrified this will be the day I see Leon one last time. But I also hope he just keepsdriving. That there aren’t any boxes for me.
