Chapter Text
Prologue
Nathaniel
Three Weeks Ago
He missed Andrew already. It had only been a few hours since the game ended, but Nathaniel could still feel the warmth on his lips from when they’d kissed. It was getting harder to have hope, to believe he had a chance at making it out alive. It was still there, but Riko and the Master were doing their best to bury it underneath the haze of beatings and cuts deep enough that stitching them was more painful than getting the wound itself. But, Andrew.
There was still hope there, he knew. Nathaniel had needed to see him, to feel his heartbeat, and understand there was still something worth fighting for. He was here for a reason, or several reasons, and if he took one step out of line Andrew and Kevin and Jean and everyone they loved was at risk. Nathaniel sighed, ignoring the look Roone gave him from across Ichirou’s living room.
The guard was irritated, but Nathaniel knew it had less to do with him and more to do with the fact that Riko kept finding very innovative ways of getting his hands on Nathaniel. He was still sleeping in the East Tower, but the number of times Riko had caught him vulnerable was, in Roone and Haru’s words, worrisome. Nathaniel didn’t know the difference between what was happening now and what had been happening since he was put in the Nest, but something was wrong, he knew. Ichirou had barely been around lately, and when he was in the Tower he had started locking himself in his office.
Nathaniel wondered, and then shut off those thoughts almost immediately. Whatever was going on with the main branch was none of his business. It was bad enough how much work he was doing, and there would be more time next year to be involved; right now he could focus on staying alive, playing exy, and bringing Riko as far down as he could go.
“Stop.” Roone said after Nathaniel had changed positions for the tenth time.
Nathaniel only rolled his eyes. There was a spot on his back that wouldn’t stop aching, but the wound he had there hindered his use of a muscle roller so he was infinitely uncomfortable in the leather seat. Really, Nathaniel wanted to go to bed and wake up when the Spring Champion season began. He was safe when he was in the tower, but now that Winter break had begun there would be more time with the team, more time with Riko. It would be practice after practice with little breaks in between. Nathaniel had no idea how he would balance the work Ichirou was giving him and the torture that Riko would provide, but he knew he would survive; if only because there was no other option.
***
Winter break in the Nest was both the same and different. The grueling practices, the inhumane schedule, the intensity, it was all familiar. But Riko’s temperament and the Master’s punishments were turned up a notch, burning hotter and hotter each day. It’d been a week since the Fox v Raven game and Nathaniel hadn’t spoken to Andrew or Jean since.
Ichirou had come into the Tower last night angry, or at least as angry as Nathaniel had ever seen him before. There was a set to his brow, his eyes hard and swimming with something he couldn’t put his finger on. Roone tracked him through the room, down to the liquor cabinet, and back to Ichirou’s favorite tall-backed chair.
“I need your phone.” Ichirou said, eyes trained on Nathaniel.
Nathaniel dug the plastic out of his pocket and tossed it to Ichirou. He wasn’t sure what the man was going to do with it, but he definitely didn’t expect Ichirou to throw it on the ground and crush it with one stomp of his foot.
“What the hell?” Nathaniel snapped, reaching for the biggest piece of his screen.
“What the hell is right,” Ichirou turned narrowed eyes on him. “Have you seen the article yet?”
“What article?” Nathaniel raised a brow.
“Good.” Ichirou nodded. “You won’t see it, then. I have a contact at the New York Times. They sent me the story before it could run.”
“What story? You sound crazy.” Nathaniel mumbled, only half joking.
“It seems as if you’ve gotten a little too much press lately.” Ichirou said. “That stops now.”
Nathaniel scoffed. “What did they write? Did someone finally put the pieces together, that my absences from the camera were not by choice?”
“No. Well, yes, but it wasn’t only about you. Someone has been speaking about the Moriyama family’s connections in a way I can’t permit.”
“I would ask the man you call your brother about that.”
“He wouldn’t dare.” Ichirou said, his voice hard.
Nathaniel silently agreed; the thought of Riko being a rat was a good one, but still unrealistic. He was messy, though, and one of those messes could have seeped into the news quite easily. Nathaniel only shrugged in response.
“What does any of this have to do with me?” Nathaniel asked, reaching for the file he had been translating before Ichirou stomped in.
“Your untimely transfer is being looked into, apparently.”
“About time,” Roone muttered across the room.
Ichirou shot him a look but Roone only grinned back at him.
“No press for the foreseeable future, okay? I’m telling Tetsuji to keep the media out of the Nest for the rest of the break.” Ichirou said.
“It won’t stop people from talking.” Roone replied.
Ichirou shrugged, finally relaxing back into his chair. “No, but it’ll give me some time to figure out what to do about it.”
“Or you could send me back to the Foxes and end the speculation.” Nathaniel suggested.
“Did you forget about your job here?” Ichirou asked. “I can give you a reminder if you are feeling so bored.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “I have enough work here.”
Really, Nathaniel knew Ichirou was holding back from sending him on jobs because of his injuries. He wouldn’t say as much, but he was still grateful. He was trying to stay away from Riko, trying not to mess up in practice, but the abuse was a vicious cycle he had yet to figure out an escape from. He had been mostly joking about going back to Palmetto anyways; the Foxes were safest when Nathaniel was here, even if it was killing him faster than he would like to admit.
“I thought so.” Ichirou said.
Whether or not Riko knew about the article was a toss up. Nathaniel thought he would be smart enough to leave the Moriyama name out of it if the aim was to hurt Nathaniel in some way, but Riko often proved himself to be dumber than he looked. Even so, Nathaniel was curious as to what the article had said about him and his transfer, and if the author also agreed it was time for Nathaniel to go home.
**
As time passed it became increasingly clear that something else was happening. Ichirou wasn’t lying to him, but he was definitely omitting part of the truth. If Nathaniel was healthy he would be angrier, but as it was he could only hold the smallest piece of resentment in the back of his head. Instead, his world was split between worrying about himself and trying to figure out what Riko’s mood swings meant.
Nathaniel wanted to say he didn’t have any idea of what was going on, but he couldn’t lie to himself about this. He knew it had to be more than an article. But even thinking about what else the Moriyamas could be upset about was troubling; any trouble for them meant trouble Nathaniel would have to deal with, and he was barely hanging on as it was without being in contact with the Foxes.
Nathaniel was trying not to think about it. If he was really being honest, he was trying not to think about much at all. Not Jean and how he was adjusting to life outside the Nest. Not Kevin and what his training schedule was looking like over the break. Above all, he was not thinking about Andrew, and if he was okay. He wasn’t thinking about what the goalie was doing, or if he was worrying about Nathaniel with all the radio silence, or if he was doing perfectly fine without the constant phone calls. He wasn’t thinking about Andrew’s hands cradling his face in the Foxes locker room, or about the fact that it might have been the last time he felt someone touch him without wanting to hurt him for a long, long time. No, he wasn’t thinking about any of that.
Instead, he focused on exy. Hitting the ball into the net, passing the ball to Riko, making sure he looked good, but not too good. Just good enough to keep the Master from punishing him anymore than he was already doing by leaving Riko unchecked. Nathaniel thanked the ERC in his head, though; making a Winter banquet was the perfect reason to keep Riko away from Nathaniel next week. As of now, his face was just beginning to heal from the last beating he’d been given. The yellow and green bruises would be gone soon enough, and as long as no one pissed Riko off badly enough Nathaniel would be safe with the added protection of Roone and Haru.
Nathaniel could tell the lockdown was getting to the other Ravens, too. Without any electronics his teammates were beginning to go stir-crazy, which is how he found himself crammed into the conference room watching game tape when he could have been in the East Tower completing work for Ichirou. He blamed the pain he was in for the decision. To be fair, he did want to review game tape. For as much as he’d improved since the beginning of the year they were still facing formidable teams during the Spring championship. There was no doubt that the Ravens would win, but Nathaniel wanted them to win with as many points as possible.
The rest of the team was trading glances between the screen and Nathaniel’s place at the back of the table. Johnson and Reacher weren’t here though, so it was tolerable, especially considering the fact that Riko was also notably absent. Across the room Noah and Cara sat together, shooting glances at Nathaniel when they thought he wasn’t looking. He wanted to reach out to them, but he was quick to shut that down; he had enough people he was protecting, and right now he couldn’t afford to bring anyone else into his life right now. He ignored them, and instead thought about how Haru and Roone had been called to help Ichirou outside of the Nest. He was, once again, pretending not to be curious about what was so important. Nathaniel was only going to do what he was needed for from now on, and clearly he wasn’t needed now. No Riko, no bodyguards, it was all very quiet here.
For a while that was good. Nathaniel hadn’t known a peaceful quiet in years, really. He wasn’t quite there yet, not like he had been in the silence of California, or even further back in the German countryside, but it was still something good. He didn’t have enough good here, even when he was tucked safely away in the Tower with Ichirou. His tattoo nearly burned at the thought of putting Ichirou and good in the same category.
Nathaniel knew the man was doing what he could to keep him safe, but he also wasn’t dumb enough to think there was any motive beyond ensuring he could be used in one way or another. He didn’t completely understand it, but being a Wesninski was enough to make a Moriyama blink, even just for a second. He was a good asset, and once Ichirou took over for Kengo he would be an even better one. That’s all this protection, this clearance into the inner circle, was.
After two days had gone by without seeing Riko or his bodyguards Nathaniel began to worry. He wasn’t stupid, though he acknowledged it would be a lot easier if he was. Something bigger was going on, and he was almost positive it had something to do with Kengo. Ichirou hadn’t said as much, but when he’d seen the Little Lord the past week he’d been disheveled and unmade, so unlike the Ichirou he’d come to know. He almost didn’t want any of them to come back from wherever they’d gone. There was a sinking feeling in Nathaniel’s gut, one that told him things were about to get very, very bad.
He didn’t realize how bad until morning practice ended the next day. Haru and Roone had been in the stands at one point, but Riko was still gone. By the time Nathaniel came off the court, thankfully without any new bruises from the Master, both of his bodyguards deemed it safe enough for him to travel through the locker room alone. Nathaniel tried to remember the fact that the peace never lasted long in the Nest when Riko barged through the door, slamming it so hard he was surprised it didn’t dent the wall.
Nathaniel spared him half a glance and paused before he could look away. Riko looked horrible, as if someone had taken whatever soul was left in him and held it hostage before they gave it back. Riko looked empty. It took Nathaniel half a second to realize what could have Riko, the King of Exy, number one of the Raven Court, Evermore’s darling, looking like a shell of a person. Riko used the time to turn on Nathaniel, spinning his heel until his hand was wrapped around Nathaniel’s throat.
The cool metal of his locker knocked into him as his body hit it with full force, Nathaniel’s gear already stripped and tossed to the side. He hadn’t been ready for the way his lungs immediately stopped working, but Riko’s eyes told him the sight of Nathaniel’s gasping mouth was only making this better for him. Riko’s hand tightened, crushing his windpipe between thumb and forefinger.
“Everybody out!” Riko called into the locker room.
The rest of the Ravens flocked to the exit, wasting no time in the face of their King. It was curious, though, how Reacher and Johnson stayed behind. Oh, it was not going to be a good night. Nathaniel’s skin was already itching with the thought of dried blood, his brain close to shutting off at the notion of pain.
Riko’s eyes bore into his own and all Nathaniel could see was his reflection staring back at him, gaunt. Nathaniel was a ghost of a man, and for the first time since he’d been put in the Nest he realized that he and Riko were two sides of the same coin. Both of them had been born into brutality, bred to be a weapon, made to be useful. Somewhere along the way Nathaniel had turned a different way, though. He wouldn’t credit it to Andrew, but he did wonder if meeting him in California had changed the course of his life, if only for the short amount he had left.
“When your mother died what did you do?” Riko asked quietly.
Nathaniel tilted his head, choking out a single, “What?”
Riko took a shuddering breath, his hand clenching painfully around the soft skin of Nathaniel’s neck. “How do I deal with this?”
It was a moment Nathaniel could repeat over and over again and would still not understand the sympathy coursing through his body. Here was a man who had tortured him, who took great joy in hurting his family and the people Nathaniel expressed the slightest bit of care in. Nathaniel looked into the eyes of a man who had taken Jean from him, who had put Reacher and Johnson in his bed, and he could feel a connection that only came from the death of someone who was supposed to love you and didn’t. Riko didn’t need to say it.
Kengo was dead.
“Riko,” Nathaniel risked his limb and put a hand on the one wrapped around his throat. Riko let up, allowing air to course through Nathaniel’s lungs. “You can only mourn. There isn’t anything to do.”
Riko’s face twisted into something painful. “How do I make it stop?”
Nathaniel watched as tears filled his eyes and thought of a way to answer, to get out of this situation. When Mary died Nathaniel had done everything she’d taught him to; he’d burned her body and hid the evidence. He’d moved to another place and tried to get as far away from her as he could. He mourned in the evenings, once Andrew was gone, once he was alone. Nathaniel thought of the way Mary had protected him, even though her protection hurt. He remembered how many times she’d saved his life, how she’d taken him from his father, and how she fought so hard only for him to end up exactly what she ran from. He was a disappointment to her, and it made the grief sharper, as if his very existence was an insult to her fight.
Even still, Nathaniel mourned. There was a tidal wave of grief that lasted days and weeks and months, and now, years later, there was only an ache where that avalanche had once been; a reminder of what he used to have and would never find again.
“You can’t, Riko.” Nathaniel whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Riko shook his head, unaccepting, and in the same quiet voice replied, “You will be.”
***
They were standing so close together the moment was almost intimate. Nathaniel thought, for just a moment, he would survive this. He would quit exy and work with Ichirou and be everything he swore he never would be, but he would be alive. Later, he would remember that moment and curse himself for being so oblivious.
Riko stepped back, letting Nathaniel crumple to the floor, and from there it was a blur. Suddenly there were hands on him, stripping what little clothing he’d still been dressed in and bending him over the bench in the center of the lockers. Nathaniel could feel hands all over his body, a pair spread his ass apart while another guided his face up and pried his mouth open. There was too much happening, too many people on him, he couldn’t think or breathe or scream because Reacher was in his mouth and Johnson was behind him, not paying any mind to the prep Nathaniel would need before shoving himself inside.
Nathaniel closed his eyes, trying to turn off his brain and go somewhere that wasn’t here, anywhere else, but Riko was in front of him then. Fingers pried his eyelids open until Nathaniel finally blinked the blurriness of his watering eyes away. Riko was crouched in front of him like he’d been so many times before, paying no mind to the way Reacher was thrusting next to him or the noises both men were making as Nathaniel tried not to pass out.
“Keep your eyes open, Nathaniel.” Riko said. “You do not get to go somewhere else and leave me here, understand?”
Nathaniel couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, but the noise he made was enough affirmation that Riko sat back, his ass hitting the tiled floor. The way Riko watched him nearly unsettled Nathaniel more than the physical sensations he was feeling. It was like he wanted to possess him, almost. Nathaniel couldn’t think too hard about it, especially when he heard the locker room door open and close, footsteps following the path to Nathaniel with confidence.
Riko glanced up a moment later and waved with a move of his fingers. “Join in, Fedorov. Johnson already warmed him up for you.”
Nathaniel barely registered Johnson pulling out of him, the sound of a high-five and clink of a belt falling to the floor. His hands were pulled back from where they were stabilizing the rest of his body and made to be restrained at the small of his back. Fedorov kicked his legs further apart, crushing the front of Nathaniel’s body into the slim wooden bench. He tried not to think about anything, tried to blank his mind out and stare at a place far off in the room as one Fedorov followed Riko’s directions. He was rougher than Johnson, and the graduated Raven slid a hand into Nathaniel’s hair as he thrust inside, shoving his head further down on Johnson.
He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, only that at some point Fedorov switched places with Johnson and Johnson switched places to let Reacher finish all while Riko sat and watched the cycle with unblinking eyes. Nathaniel couldn’t feel any part of his body by the time the three boys were getting dressed, looking to Riko for further direction. Nathaniel was spitting on the ground, alarmed to see how much liquid was beginning to pool from his mouth.
“Take the back way to the basement, you know where the ties are.” Riko said to Johnson.
“Like this?” Johnson asked.
Nathaniel realized they were talking about him, how he was naked and covered in the other men’s sweat and semen. He tried to reach for his shirt, discarded a foot away, but even the stretch of his arms brought a sting of pain, and really, Nathaniel was too tired to think about moving. They could have left him there, laying nude across the bench, his dignity gone, his pride in the gutter, and he wouldn’t have even complained.
“Does it matter?” Riko asked, as if this was a completely normal question.
Johnson didn’t think so if the way he lifted Nathaniel up by his armpits was any kind of answer. Riko surveyed the front of his body with disgust.
“You will regret getting that tattoo by the time they find you,” Riko said.
Nathaniel thought of Ichirou and the inner circle he’d been inducted into, and for the very first time wished the Little Lord had left him to die when he’d found Nathaniel in the basement weeks ago. He’d heard where Riko was putting him and wished, more than anything, that they would kill him before Riko got downstairs.
Nathaniel’s feet dragged across tile and carpet as he was taken down an unfamiliar route to a room he knew all too well. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he would be rescued anytime soon. If Haru and Roone had left him alone this long there was no telling how bad the situation was. Nathaniel had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and while he knew Kengo’s death would happen eventually he still had underestimated the effects of his demise.
The entrance Johnson dragged him through was somehow colder than he remembered the basement ever being. Nathaniel couldn’t make out much of his surroundings through the blurriness of his vision, which maybe was for the better. It just meant he nearly jolted out of his skin when he felt cold metal wrap around his wrists, attaching him to the wall, his back pressed against unforgiving concrete. He was definitely in a different part of the basement, because Riko usually liked to have him tied in the center, surrounded by nothing but open air and fear.
He wasn’t scared, now. If anything he was hoping they would go too far before Riko came back. Nathaniel was rarely afraid to die. What kept him pushing was the fight for Andrew, for Kevin and Jean, the former fight for his mother. If he died tonight he was hopeful Ichirou would keep his promise of safety for the Foxes regardless of Nathaniel’s presence. He’d killed for the Lord, bled for him, swore himself to a family his mother had died to save him from. Ichirou owed him this.
The hours passed in silence, nothing besides Nathaniel’s own heavy breathing to accompany him. Johnson had left at some point and Riko had yet to join the party. It was another game Riko liked to play. Making Nathaniel wait was an exercise in Nathaniel’s own sanity. He was too used to it for Riko to spark any real fear in him, though. If anything Nathaniel wanted him to get on with it. On the other hand, the longer Riko took the more likely Haru and Roone were going to find him before it was too late. What state Nathaniel would be in was a different story.
**
Riko didn’t come that day. Or the next. Or the next. Nathaniel was beginning to lose it, if he was being completely honest. It wasn’t the lack of food or water, either, though in the back of his mind he could recognize the part that played in how he was feeling now. What he really felt was the anxiety of not knowing if his people were safe. If Riko had somehow gotten to them yet, if Nathaniel was stuck here not just for Riko’s sick entertainment but to make sure he was out of the way while Andrew and Kevin and Jean were suffering far, far away.
The panic kept him from falling asleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Each time his head lulled to the side, suspended with nothing to lean on but wide, open air, Nathaniel jolted awake. All at once he was reminded of what Mary had been running from, the fate she had viciously kept her son from reaching until the very last minute of her life. How disappointed would she be in him today? He was at his weakest, and yet all he could think of was making the end go quicker.
This was not the son Mary had raised, Nathaniel was sure of that much. There was once a point where Nathaniel would kick and scream, raise hell to avoid the chains he was in now. He’d kill before he let someone tie him up and render him useless. He couldn’t even recognize who this was, because it sure as hell wasn’t Abram.
On the fourth day in the basement, at least Nathaniel thought it was the fourth day, he tilted his head towards the slight creak of a door opening. Riko’s face appeared in front of his with startling clarity. He looked tired, with deep purple bags hanging under his eyes, but there was something bright in his eyes, something dangerous that Nathaniel wanted no part of. Riko slammed something on the ground, and it took Nathaniel and embarassignly long time to move his eyes to the floor and recognize it was a plate of food.
“Eat.” Riko said, lips tilted into a smile that could have been mistaken for a snarl.
Nathaniel flinched before he could control his body when Riko came closer, unlocking the cuffs holding his arms up. Nathaniel had lost any real feeling in them days ago, but pins and needles ran through his limbs as they fell to a more natural position, reminding him that he was still, unfortunately, alive. The food Riko had brought was nothing more than a couple of pieces of bread and an apple; it didn’t matter much to Nathaniel. After days without food or water he would have eaten straight off the floor. He also wasn’t very surprised at the sharp, sweet taste of Riko’s preferred drugs staining his tongue. Riko really shouldn’t have; Nathaniel was in no shape to fight back.
“I’ve got to say I’ve missed you on the court, Nate,” Riko said as Nathaniel shoved stale bread into his mouth like a ravenous animal. “It isn’t the same out there without you. You understand why you’re here though, don’t you?”
Nathaniel didn’t understand so he didn’t even try and speak.
Riko only sighed. “I don’t know what my brother sees in you, why he’s taken such a special liking to you. I can guess he promised you something in exchange for your services. What was it, Nathaniel? Money? Protection? I’m guessing the latter, if what you did to Jean is any hint.”
Riko sat down in front of him, folding his knees so he could rest his chin on them. In this position Riko almost looked like a child, like he was folding inward on everything bad anyone had ever done to him. There could be redemption, if Riko was anyone else, if he was the first son instead of the second. Unfortunately for the both of them Riko was too far gone and had no motivation to find his way back to sanity.
“You know something, Nathaniel?” Riko got closer, tilting Nathaniel’s gaunt face up to meet Riko’s manic eyes. His next words were barely a whisper, but Nathaniel heard them as if they were shouted across the court. “Ichirou can’t stop what I already have planned for your Foxes.”
Nathaniel, full of bread and drugs, could do nothing but tilt his head at Riko. He wished he could make sense of it, but there was cotton in his head, on his tongue. Nathaniel didn’t have words for the situation, and his mouth wouldn’t work no matter how hard he tried to move it. Riko stared at him as if Nathaniel was a bug under his shoe and he was just waiting for the right moment to crush him.
**
The days passed in flashes. There were moments that Nathaniel knew he was sober, if only because he hadn’t eaten or drank anything since the last time Riko had visited him. Those days were worse; at least when Riko was here Nathaniel was drugged enough to drift somewhere else. It was a give and take, like everything was in the Nest. Johnson and Reacher had come down again at some point, and he was sure there were cuts from Riko that were infected by now. If he was being honest with himself, Nathaniel didn’t know how much time he had left.
Though he didn’t know exactly how long he’d been in the basement he did know it was long enough that Haru and Roone most likely thought he was dead. It was the only explanation he could come up with, or at least the only one he wanted to believe. The other thought jumping around in Nathaniel’s head was that his bodyguards, under order of Ichirou, had stopped looking for him because he had proved himself unworthy to be searched for. Nathaniel could understand. He was supposed to be part of the inner circle, a survivor, a fighter, and right now Nathaniel was curled in a heap on the floor, scrawny and unable to move without his vision blurring. He was fading fast and there was no one to blame in this situation besides himself.
In the moments after Riko left him, when he was freshly bruised and cut, when the drugs were still working miracles for both his pain level and his mental sanity, Nathaniel allowed himself a few seconds to think about what was outside of here. He ached, deep in his bones he ached, for Andrew. Nathaniel hadn’t forgotten about Riko’s threat at the beginning of this hell, but he still couldn’t figure out what it meant. He hoped, though his hope was steadily dwindling, that Andrew fought as hard as he could against whatever impending doom that was heading his way.
He thought about Jean and how his partner had been thrust into a new place without any idea of what was coming next. He would figure it out, Nathaniel knew, but the learning curve would be steep. Jean was used to taking the hit lying down, and getting ready for the next one. Without Nathaniel protecting him, without Nathaniel needing to protect him, what was Jean doing each day? What was he learning about himself? Nathaniel wished he would be there to see it.
As it was, Riko was stepping through the dark hallway again, this time without food in his hands. Nathaniel was hungry again, as he had been for what felt like weeks now, but he was also grateful for the chance to be sober, even if it meant he heard and felt everything more clearly than he wanted to. Something was different today, or maybe Nathaniel had finally gotten all of the drugs out of his system. Riko seemed of clearer mind today. His eyes weren’t bouncing around the room maniacally, and he was alone, without the other Ravens backing him at every step.
“It’s time for a change of scenery, don’t you think?” Riko asked.
Nathaniel didn’t respond. Or, he couldn’t respond. His mouth was so dry lately. He had been cuffed to one of the poles for the past few days, but Riko had left one hand free to eat whenever his meals were brought in. Still, his right wrist was nearly torn to shreds, and each day he bled a little more despite trying his best not to move more than an inch at any given moment. Riko uncuffed him now, slipping one side of the chain into his pocket and reaching for Nathaniel with his other hand. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the way Riko manhandled him, not after all this time, but his body still screamed in protest as he was dragged by his mangled wrist down a hall opposite where Riko had entered from.
Nathaniel, if he made it out of here, would think about the way Riko treated him now, as if he was nothing more than a wild animal needing to be taken to the slaughter. He would remember how his body couldn’t keep up with the movements and only bounced along the floor like a fish out of water. The room opened up into something more familiar. There in the corner was where Haru had once set him while he untied Jean weeks ago on the night everything had seemingly changed for him. At the time he’d thought it was his luck, the tables turning for the better. Now he realized it only landed him in a deeper hole than he’d been in before. The only difference was that he’d somehow managed to get the main branch involved with everything he’d once promised to keep safe.
The pole he’d become so intimately familiar with over the years stared back at him. When had Riko put him here? Nathaniel was losing chunks of time if Riko had managed to cuff him into his preferred position without Nathaniel even noticing. That was a bad sign, he knew. Once he stopped remembering things it was only a matter of time before he really went insane. Honestly, he was surprised it hadn’t happened already. Maybe the drugs were delaying the process. Or maybe he just didn’t have much of a mind to lose. Maybe his father and his mother had already taken his sanity and he’d just been surviving on the fear of dying.
Nathaniel didn’t have that fear anymore.
“Count them out for me, Nate.” Riko said from somewhere behind him.
Even if he’d been here before, Nathaniel was still stunned at the pain of the whip across his back. In that moment it felt like every ache he’d had since ending up in the basement was magnified; he could feel the gash on his leg, opened and infected and hot to the touch; the cuts on his chest were swollen and angry; he didn’t even want to think about the rest of him, about what Johnson and Reacher had done, about how much pain was radiating from places that should never be painful.
Nathaniel couldn’t count even if he wanted to. His mouth opened, but nothing more than a hoarse wheeze came out of it. He’d lost his voice at some point; had he been screaming? Nathaniel couldn’t remember, thankfully. Each time he didn’t count Riko would start again, and whatever number Riko had wanted to dish out had to have been doubled by the time Riko said his goodbyes, not bothering to untie Nathaniel from the pole in the center of the room.
***
He’d kept it together all this time, but Riko still hadn’t come back even days, or what felt like days, later. The fear of fading away had drifted and he was just left with the overwhelming feeling of emptiness. His father had once told him how he would die. Nathan was a cruel man, there was no getting around that, but he was honest with Nathaniel. Nathan would explain how, eventually, Nathaniel would run out of uses. He would never be the heir to Nathan’s spot, and the Hatfords would never accept a Wesninski in their empire. Nathan said he would kill him, when the time came. He promised to make it quick, a Butcher’s death.
Now, Nathaniel wondered if this was the time. He didn’t think Riko would ever be able to replicate his father, if only because Nathaniel would never be afraid of Riko the way he was of Nathan. Even so, Nathaniel knew it was time. Ichirou hadn’t found him because he knew in this new world, where Ichirou was now the Lord, Nathaniel was nothing but a poor imitation of the Butcher. Nathaniel had fulfilled his promises as best he could and now there was nothing left for him to but sit and wait.
Sunrise, Abram, death.
Mary had told him three truths to live by and Nathaniel had followed as well as he was able to. He pictured the sun one last time, fresh in the morning, the light reflecting off the plexiglass of a court somewhere. California? Was he there, now? Nathaniel turned. Andrew.
Hello, Drew. I didn’t think I would see you again.
Andrew turned to him, pressed a finger to the divot in his chin and tilted his head to the light.
Oh, yes. I like this, Abram thought.
Sunrise, Abram, death.
Nathaniel hummed a quiet song, something of an apology, and let the darkness take him.