Page 102 of Crown of Steel

For a brief second, no one moves, the hoots and howls from the inmates the only sound in the air. Then the guard nods and jerkily moves to stick the key into the keyhole. “Very well. You can accompany your stepbrother. You have ten minutes.”

The heavy, iron door opens with a barely audible groan, revealing a plain, white room with nothing but a table and four chairs. From my swift once-over I see that they are secured to the equally white concrete floor. Unable to toss any chairs around then, I conclude with a slight inward pout. How I’d love to create some chaos. Although, judging from the huddled form that sits at the table, both his wrists shackled to the top, therewon’t be much of a fight to begin with. At least, not the type of fight that’s won with fists and punches.

A plastic cup of water has been placed in front of him, and just as I wonder why the hell personnel would give him any refreshments during our visit, Régis’s Dad starts coughing. It’s a throaty, dry wheeze that sounds as if he’s sputtering up his entire fucking lungs, his body shuddering from the violent jerks. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, slippers wrapped around his socked feet. His ankles are equally shackled to the table.

“Keep your germs to yourself,” I snap as we make our way inside, fingers tightening, making sure to keep my little stepbrother’s smaller hand securely wrapped in mine.

“Dad,” Régis chokes, and just as I think he’ll wring himself loose from my hold to do something stupid like run over to the sick fuck and hug him, he lets me guide him to the other side of the table. As we take a seat, I catch the disapproving stare from a pair of equally blue eyes, before his face converts into a pained grimace. Régis’s Dad juts his chin my way, then spats, “What’s that? Is this your boyfriend? Didn’t I teach you any better?”

Next to me Régis flinches, and my own jaw clenches with fury. I cross my ankles and push them firmly in an attempt to stay seated. But oh, do I want to stand up and let my fists have their way with that timeworn face. Régis squeezes my hand, before he replies, “No. You didn’t teach me anything at all, Dad.” His voice is soft, but he already sounds tired, and we haven’t even begun. His father places both his hands on the table, the movement followed by a heavy rattling sound.

“You need to get me out of here, son,” he pleads, his tone softer and more pliant now like a turned switch, much like his gaze. “It can be you and I again, my boy. We don’t need anyone else. Your mother is fighting me, Régis, she is determined to punish me even further.”

Those words make me explode. “Don’t you dare speak tohim about punishment.” My ankles pull free and I growl at him as I start getting out of my seat.

“Arthur,” Régis whispers urgently, and I know that I should shut my fucking mouth, know that I should let my lover do this by himself, but fuck… it’s hard. Squeezing my jaw tight with a pained groan, I sit back down and turn to face Régis, nodding in defeat. Across the table, his father’s trembling. At first, I think he might be sick, but then I realize he’s laughing. His entire body shaking, his face contorted into one of the most vicious scowls I have ever seen.

Here is who lives in Régis’s nightmares. The monster himself.

His lips curled into a fine sneer, his brilliant eyes shooting frantic daggers. The man’s a fucking psychopath.

“Régis, Régis, is that why you never came to visit me?” He tuts. Next to me, Régis shrinks, and I can feel him running for cover into his mind. The only way he has ever won a battle. “Because you were too busy with yourboyfriend?” He lets out a disgusting chuckle.

“No,” Régis wheezes next to me. This time I squeeze his hand, hoping that he’ll find comfort in my touch.

“You know who he is, right? He’s a fucking rat, son.” He continues to shudder, mouth dropping open to let out a horrifying breathy chuckle. His eyes flash and the room goes cold. Next to me, Régis writhes in his seat.

“No, I never came because of the judge.”

“The judge?” Régis’s dad sneers, his previous mockery visibly replaced by something vicious. “Thejudge?”

“I think this is enough,” I say, giving Régis’s hand another, more urgent squeeze. “Come on,chaton, we’re out.”

“Chaton?” Régis’s father barks out a chortle, loud and raspy and full of hate.

“Where did my son go? Who is this spineless little fucker—”

“You want to know where he went?” Régis jumps out of hisseat, my hand still glued to his. I scramble to follow him up. “You left him, do you remember?” His voice trembles, thick with loathe and fury. “Like you always did. Punished. Alone in that fucking cage. You left him to rot. Left him to hate himself and the world. But you know what? Someone opened that lock and got me out. Someone who wants me in their life, who wants to love and care for me.”

Régis’s father lets out a terrifying roar as he tries to get up, but thankfully locks into place by the shackles. He growls in protest, his hands fluttering against the table when he realizes they don’t move any further. “You are a worthless piece of shit! You are not my son! You—”

“You’re right,” Régis booms. His father shuts up at that, instead gazing with a burning stare, and I hold my breath. “I am not your son, not anymore. I have filed for freedom, and together with the official statement from the psychiatrist who examined me after my mother came to rescue me from you, I will soon no longer be your child.”

“Régis—” His father shudders, but my fierce fighter is not yet finished. With a wave of his hand he dismisses anyone from speaking.

“I don’t want anything to do with you. Ever. You don’t exist to me anymore, nor do I to you. I have erased you from my life. You hear me? I have erased you.” He inhales deeply, lets the air out as they both stare at each other for what feels like a lifetime. In silence. “Mon coeur,” he finally says, squeezing my hand and encouraging me to follow him. “Take me home.”

25

RÉGIS

The car journey back to Monterrey Castle feels awfully long and too short at the same time. My thoughts are scattered all around my leaking heart, though I’m feeling light. Relieved. Confused—although things are crystal clear at the same time.

I openly declared Arthur as my boyfriend and he accepted that role. Just like that, as if it was the most logical thing in life.

Although, that too, is a revelation. Arthur is the most obnoxious, cocky, privileged and determined guy I have ever met. But underneath all of that, he is also loyal and fierce, sexy and intelligent. And my goddamn stepbrother. My lover. Yes, Arthur is the love of my life.

I nibble on my lower lip while gazing outside as the car leaves the highway and turns for the miners village of Saint-Laurent. We pass rundown shops, a church, a bakery that is still open despite the late hour, and then we turn around the corner, disregarding thePlace de la Gareand its empty train station as we head for the forest.

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