God of Malice: A Dark College Romance

36. Asher

Something’s not right.

I’m not sure what or why, but I’m certain of the red flags when my wife wraps her arm around me, her breathing erratic and her body tense.

Her fingers absentmindedly stroke my chest, but she’s not falling asleep. Or talking.

She’s just caught in a trance of her own making. A phase where I couldn’t find her even if I tried.

This brings back horrible memories from when she used to give me the cold shoulder, distance herself from me and leave me battling violent tendencies where all I wanted was to punch anything that moved in her vicinity.

But we’re over that phase. We’ve been over it for more than twenty-six years.

After we officially got together, there were times when Reina was upset with me about small details and chose to use her irritating habit of creating distance between us.

We talked about that in the first few months, and I taught her to never do that again. I told her how much it infuriated me when she didn’t consider me part of her life when she’s the center of mine.

Ever since then, she’s gotten better at communicating her feelings, her reservations about certain things, and everything in between.

We’ve gotten to a point in our marriage where we don’t have to speak to understand one another.

Tonight is different.

My wife hasn’t been the same ever since she slipped out of bed earlier. And while I want to shake the answers out of her, I force myself to wait.

And wait.

And fucking wait.

It’s impossible to go to sleep if she doesn’t tell me.

The silence in our bedroom soon turns suffocating, and I slide my fingers into her shiny blonde hair.

It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been with this woman, I still can’t get enough of touching her. I still think about all the years we lost and can’t get back.

I’m still trapped at that moment when I thought I’d lose her forever.

A small sigh leaves her lips and her stroking pauses. “Ash?”

“Hmm?”

“I think we made a mistake.”

“About?”

She continues burying her face in my chest. “Remember when Kill brought us those desiccated mice and told us Look, I can see inside them?”

My jaw clenches. “It was when we first figured out he’s like her. Of course I remember.”

“He was only seven, Ash.”

“And he already showed the signs.”

“That’s not the point. Our son was so young, and we must’ve looked at him as if he were a monster.” She stares up at me with an unnatural shine in her deep blue eyes. “He told Glyndon that I’ve been scared of him since. Our baby boy thinks I’ve been afraid of him all this time, Ash. What are we going to do?”

“Hey.” I sit up and bring her with me and she sniffles, her tears soaking her cheeks and my thumb as I try to wipe them away. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Her voice breaks. “It’s not okay for a seven-year-old to think his parents are scared of him. And it’s absolutely not okay that he’s carried that thought for over twelve years. That’s how trauma is caused.”

“He’s not susceptible to trauma. You’re feeling these terrible emotions, but he’s not able to process them, Reina. You shouldn’t project what you feel on him. He’s not the same.”

“But he’s our son and we might have let him down.”

“You’re overthinking this. Besides, he doesn’t care.”

“Of course he does. I know you want him not to, and you’ve been trying to prove that he’s only a monster with no redeeming qualities, but that’s not true, Ash. If he doesn’t care, would he make sure to answer my texts, call me regularly, and talk to me about his campus life? If he doesn’t care, would he bring his girlfriend to meet us?”

“It’s all a fa?ade and a learned behavior. He’s one hundred percent socialized and has long since perfected fooling the world around him. You can refuse to see it all you want, but that doesn’t deny what he is.”

“What the hell is what he is supposed to mean? He’s our son. Our flesh and blood. He’s not a guinea pig or a freak, stop analyzing him as if he is one.”

“Not when he’s prone to lose control any second.”

She pushes away from me, her delicate brows creasing with a frown, then starts to leave the bed.

I clutch her wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Anywhere but beside you until you stop talking about our son like he’s a psychological case study.”

“Like fuck you’re leaving.” I tug her down and she gasps as she falls back in my embrace. “You can be mad at me while you talk to me.”

My wife puffs out a breath. “Please try to see him as more than your prejudice about his type. I was hurt, too, extremely, to the point of madness by her, but that doesn’t mean Kill is like her or that I’d take out my pain on him.”

I’m about to placate her, just to get her out of this mood, when a loud bang echoes from the room beside our master suite.

Reina jumps up, throwing her robe on, and I follow after wearing a T-shirt.

We both rush out and stop in the hallway when the bang comes again.

My wife and I share a look. Gareth.

We hurry to his room and surprisingly, the door is open.

The scene that plays in front of us is straight out of a horror movie. Reina places two hands on her mouth as what I predicted would eventually happen takes form in front of our eyes.

Killian holds his brother by an elbow to his throat, pinning him against the wall. The bang sound is from when he pulls him just to slam him back again.

The savage look on Killian’s face resembles my most frightening nightmares and is nothing like I’ve seen before. Not even when he was seldom caught making trouble at school. All light from his eyes—that Reina wouldn’t shut up about—that he graced us with during this visit is gone.

In its place, complete gloom covers his features.

“I’m not going to ask again. Why did you send her that video?” Despite the darkness in his features, Killian sounds collected, in his element, absolutely not on the verge.

Which is a red flag since he’s the type who gets calmer the more he’s enraged.

The deadly type of calm.

“I told you not to get involved, didn’t I? I told you to stay the fuck out of my business if you didn’t want me to slice your fucking throat, but you went ahead and put your stupid fucking nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Gareth raises a fist and punches him in the face. Reina gasps from the force of the blow, and blood explodes on Killian’s lips, but he doesn’t release his brother. If anything, his hold appears to get stronger.

Reina runs to them, places a hand on Killian’s arm, and tries to sound firm but gentle. “Let him go, Kill.”

“Stay out of it, Mom. My dear brother and I have a score to settle.”

“You’re hurting him.”

“He hurt me first and this is payback.”

“Killian, please.” Her fingers dig into his arm, but it’s like she doesn’t exist.

“Don’t beg for him, Mom. Just don’t.”

“Let your brother go, Killian.” I step forward, approaching them at a steady pace.

When he doesn’t show any sign of hearing me, I grab him by the nape and wrench him back with enough force to send him flying against the wall if I release him.

But I don’t.

Because as much as I was a violent person in my youth, I don’t use that shit anymore—especially not on my family.

Gareth bends over, slaps both palms on his knees, and coughs. The color slowly returns to his face as his breathing settles down. Reina pours him a glass of water, from his minibar, that he gulps in one go.

Killian glares at him, his index finger tapping manically on his thigh.

“Such a golden boy, Gaz,” he mocks, his tone on the verge of exploding. “Look at you being saved by Mommy and Daddy again.”

I tighten my hold on his neck. “Knock it off.”

“I know you don’t believe me.” Gareth holds his head high. “But I didn’t do it.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Because, the last time you got in between us, you wanted to ruin me through her. This was your chance to do that.”

“That was before I realized she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, asshole. I didn’t need to bring you down, because you’ve left me alone ever since she came into the picture. You don’t actively try to make my life hell like before, and you were starting to seem like a decent human being. But maybe I was just fooling myself.”

“Fuck you and your victim speech. It’s getting old fast.”

“Killian Patrick Carson.” Reina taps her foot on the ground. “I understand you’re upset, but you will not be speaking to your brother in that tone.”

“Upset?” he echoes. “Try fucking enraged, Mom. Your dear oldest son showed Glyndon something she shouldn’t have seen and now, she left.”

“I told you I didn’t show her that. I even deleted it from the archives.” Gareth’s voice rises with frustration. “Ask Jeremy, he was there and told me to bury the hatchet. Besides, you didn’t expect her to stay in the dark all her life, did you? She would’ve eventually found out. If not from me, then from someone else.”

Killian jerks in my hold in an attempt to go at his brother’s throat again.

“Calm down,” I say with patience I don’t particularly feel right now.

“Spare me the bullshit.” He forcibly wrenches himself from my hold. “You never wanted me to be born? Wonderful. Guess what, Dad? I never wanted to be your son. There, I said it, and you know what? I’m not even sorry, Mom. I should’ve told him this a long time ago.”

Reina physically steps backward from the shock, her lips trembling as if she’s finally seeing what type of monster her son actually is.

The type who’d assault his brother, jab at his father, and emotionally wreck his mother without blinking.

But I can’t even gather the energy to say I told you so, because Killian’s words and the anger behind them catches me completely off guard.

My first thought with Killian is to always subdue him somehow, shackle him in a way, knock him down a few notches so he never grows fully into who he is.

When I first found out about his tendencies, I took him hunting and enrolled him in highly competitive sports. I taught him how to channel that destructive energy and tame it, but he often spiraled out of control.

He eventually grew bored of repressing his true nature and rebelled. He punched his classmates, picked fights with thugs, and sent a few people to the ER.

I refused to bury his actions or let him use any sort of privileges. The first time the principal called me, I told him to suspend him. The second time, my father covered his tracks.

And that continued for all the times that followed.

My father is the reason Killian never learned his lesson. He kept getting him out of trouble so that the Carson name wasn’t sullied, even when I told him that he was only making him more untouchable.

“What’s wrong with being untouchable?” my father asked without batting an eye. “At least he’ll be powerful.”

My old man only ever cared about that—power. Didn’t matter how it was attained as long as the family name remained in a prestigious position.

Needless to say, I didn’t agree with him, and the fact that Killian stopped calling me and started going to his grandfather started a rift between us.

However, it’s the first time I’ve heard the words, or more accurately, the bomb he dropped just now.

I face him fully. “What did you just say?”

His shoulders have tensed, and the expression on his face is the most savage I’ve seen. He’s losing control.

I feel it.

He must feel it, too.

But he still speaks in that eternally casual tone. “I heard you that night when I was nine and had beat up that tool who was calling Mia names. Mom was depressed, drinking wine late at night in the kitchen, and you came to find her. I was right outside when you told her you should’ve only had Gareth and that I’m defective. And you know what? I heard Mom being angry, I heard her telling you to never say that again if you loved her, but your words are the only thing I remember. Thanks for the beautiful childhood memories, Dad. You hate who I am with everything in you, but you should be thankful. If those words had been directed at your golden boy there, he would’ve developed a trauma. Shouldn’t we all be grateful that I’m not a neurotypical fucking weakling?”

“Oh, Kill.” Reina steps toward him, but he holds up a hand.

“Spare me, Mom. I don’t want to hear you defending him.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” She grabs a hold of his arm. “I’m sorry you had to hear that and think I was afraid of you because of the mice incident. A mother can’t be scared of her own child. The only reason I was horrified back then was because I realized you were like someone from our past. Someone Asher and I loved with all our hearts but ended up stabbing us in the back. It’s why he said those words, too. We knew there was a chance of having a child who inherited that someone’s genes, and it happened with you. Asher said we should only have Gareth, but I’m the one who wanted another child, I’m the one who wanted you with all my heart, Kill. I know what he said was wrong, but he didn’t even mean it. Those were words of anger. Asher loves you as much as he loves Gareth, Kill. But you’re the one who distanced yourself from him.”

And now, I know why.

It wasn’t because my father covered his tracks instead of me or because I thought maybe he disliked me.

Turns out he genuinely dislikes me.

A shot of pain explodes behind my rib cage and spreads all over my chest. I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to, so I take some time to regulate my breathing.

Gareth’s gaze flits between me and his brother as if he’s unable to believe what he’s hearing.

“So it’s my fault now?” Killian barks out cruel laughter, then it dies out as abruptly as it started. “Wow, Mom, I feel gaslighted right now and that definitely doesn’t look good on you.”

“Do you not remember how you stopped spending time with your father? You even stopped hugging him in greeting and often left the table first.” She softens her voice.

“That’s because he prefers his golden boy.”

“Not true,” Gareth says. “Whenever we invited you to come along, you refused.”

“Forgive me if I don’t like spending time with a father who never wanted me.”

“Killian,” I call, and he slowly faces me, jaw set.

He thinks we’re going to war again, that this will be another fight and I’ll assert my parental position by suppressing him again.

I place a hand on his shoulder and he tenses, ready for the jab or whatever he thinks I’ll do.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen a little, which is about the only reaction he shows, but before he can think about it further, I continue.

“I didn’t realize my words, as impulsive as they were, would have this effect on you and I apologize for not looking further into the reason you methodically cut off your relationship with me. But if it’s any consolation, it’s not about your person, son. Your behavior reminded me of painful memories and the young bitter me, and I reacted badly to that. It’s not your fault, it’s completely mine. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better father figure to you.”

Reina cries silently and Gareth holds her shoulder, hugging her to his side.

Killian narrows his eyes, but the stiffness has vanished. “You apologized twice.”

“So?”

“You’ve never apologized before. Not to anyone.”

“I did to your mother once, and I’m doing it again to my son. My family members are the only ones I’ll apologize to when an apology is due. And, Kill?”

“Yeah?”

“You and Gareth aren’t different in my eyes, not even a little. I’m only harsher with you because your character is harsher.”

He shrugs. “Gareth can be a pain in the ass, too. You just don’t see it.”

“Hey!” my eldest son protests.

Reina smiles with tears in her eyes and rubs his chest. “I want a family hug.”

And then she pulls us all in a hug, because she can be sentimental like that. All three of us would rather not do this, but if there’s anything we agree on, it’s our care for this woman.

She can make me and our boys burn a whole town for her by just saying the words.

Then she hugs Kill individually, basically strangling him, considering his expression, then whispers something in his ear.

For the first time ever, his features soften and he looks like that six-year-old boy who used to sit on a swing and stare into space like an old man.

“What are you looking at, Kill?” I asked him once.

He sighed with the exasperation of a person who’s seen it all. “How boring everything is. How do I make it less boring, Dad?”

I should’ve known by then that we had a special kid on our hands. Someone who didn’t need the world, or even us.

There’s no doubt in my mind that if he was on his own, he’d live just fine, maybe even be freer than he is right now. He wouldn’t have to worry about hiding his true self or repressing his urges for my and his mother’s sake.

He’d be a true monster and would probably get away with it for a while before he eventually got locked up.

But we need him in our lives, cold-bloodedness and manipulativeness included.

Yes, he can be a monster, but he usually chooses not to at home. It’s a mature choice he made a long time ago after the fights stopped, and one he’ll continue to make.

But even if he doesn’t, we’ll deal with it when it comes.

One thing’s for certain, Killian will always be my son.

I’ll never forget the tears in Reina’s eyes when she held him in her arms for the first time. “Look at him, our baby is so beautiful, Ash.”

“He is.”

“He would’ve been more beautiful if he was a girl, but oh well, we can always try again.” She kissed his forehead. “I love you to bits, baby.”

“Can he play football with me, Daddy?” Gareth asked me while he craned his neck to see his brother.

“Sure thing. We can teach him.”

“Yes!” He kissed his brother on the cheek. “I’m gonna teach you all the things.”

That moment seems like it happened yesterday. I think the reason it’s coming back to me now is because this scene is creepily similar to it.

It’s been such a long time since the four of us have felt like a connected family. Killian always, without doubt, ruined it.

He was acting out, I now realize, demanding the attention he thought he was due.

At this moment, he doesn’t seem like he feels the need to.

“Now”—Reina pulls back—“did you say Glyn left?”

Seeming to have recalled the reason he’s been behaving like a beast in the middle of the night, Killian clenches his jaw and nods.

“It wasn’t me,” Gareth says, softer this time. “If I’d wanted to do that, I would’ve done it back at campus, not here.”

My wife strokes Killian’s arm. “Was she mad at you?”

“Very.”

“If you apologize, she might listen.”

“I don’t think an apology would cut it. She…” He trails off, then lowers his head. “She looked both scared and disgusted with me. She’s never looked at me that way before and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“First things first, don’t be yourself. It’d do more harm than good,” Gareth tells him and Killian flips him off.

“On the contrary,” I say. “Be yourself. If she can’t deal with you at your worst, then you’ll eventually suffocate her and she’ll hate you. And you’ll probably hate her, too, and it’ll turn into a vicious cycle.”

“If you truly care about her, then pursue her, Kill,” Reina supplies.

“You think?”

“I’m sure. How do you think your father got me? He just refused to leave me alone and I had to settle.” She sighs, eyes filled with glimmering emotions. “It helped that I’d loved him since I was a teen, though.”

I’ve been married to this woman for over twenty-five years, and she still makes me fall for her harder every day.

Every single moment.

She’s not the reason behind my happiness—she’s the definition of the word.

Killian marches to Gareth and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “We’re going back to campus.”

“Why would I come along?”

“You need to show me all the archives of that night. I have a theory.”

“Can’t it wait till the morning?”

“Why would it?”

“Why would it not?”

After some arguments, they finally agree to head back. They even wake my father up in the middle of the night so they can borrow his private jet.

After they change, Reina and I walk them to the entrance. She hugs them together, then one at a time while smoothing invisible wrinkles from their clothes.

“But I still didn’t get my fill of you, boys.”

“We’ll come back, Mom.” Gareth grabs Killian in a chokehold. “I’ll make sure to bring this idiot, too.”

“Who are you calling an idiot, wanna die?” Kill tries to get out of his hold and fails.

Gareth only releases him when he hugs me goodbye. “See you, Dad.”

“See you, son.”

Killian is about to turn and leave, but I grab his shoulders and for the first time since he was a kid, I wrap my arms around him and bring him close.

It takes him a moment before he stiffly pats my back. It’ll take him some time, but he’ll get there.

“Stay out of trouble, son.”

He grins as we break apart. “How else will you ask about me?” I narrow my eyes and he laughs. “That was a joke.”

Then they get in the backseat of the car so my chauffeur can drive them to the airport.

Reina and I remain at the door long after they’re gone, arms wrapped around each other as she sniffles.

“Why do they grow up so fast?” she grumbles but then sighs and smiles up at me. “Silver lining, I’m so glad we had that conversation tonight as painful as it was.”

“Me, too.”

She strokes my cheek, her touch soft, loving, and the only thing I need. “I know it must’ve triggered that horrible trauma, but I’m so glad you could look past it and talk to Kill. I’m so proud of you.”

I can die a happy man if my wife is proud of me. No questions asked.

“I love you, Ash.”

“I love you, too, prom queen.” I tug her closer. “Do you think he’ll be able to get Glyndon back?”

“Oh, I’m sure he will. He looks at her the way you look at me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like you’ll destroy the world as long as I remain safe.”

“It’s true. Now, tell me, what did you whisper to Kill earlier?”

She smiles as she stares in the distance. “That we love him no matter how different he is.”