Syn

I sent a glare Paris's way as everyone turned to me. He was continuously stepping out of line today. First with calling Xavier and Cleo, and now with telling my mother and father something that was none of their goddamn concern.

So what if I died doing this? If that's what it took to guarantee Queen and my family's safety, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I died once and it hurt like a bitch...but I could do it again.

"What is he talking about?" My father looked at me. I almost rolled my eyes as his familiar overbearing stare was focused on me, but I held back. It wasn't like they truly deserved the truth, but If we were going to figure this out, I needed to be transparent.

For Queen.

"I'm in recovery," I admitted.

"Recovery?" My mother shook her head, not understanding. "Recovery from what?"

"An injury is temporary," my father spoke. "You won't die if—"

"It's not from an injury," I said. I ran a hand through my hair, glancing at Drake who must've been beyond excited to hear how weak I was— but I was given a nod instead. Of course, he wasn't surprised by this...it was his plan all along— to work with Stella to supply me drugs and weaken me enough to where he could kill me. It was well thought out, I had to admit. If it hadn't been for Queen's intervention I couldn't say with one hundred percent certainty that I'd still be here.

"Then what?" My father asked. I met his eye and he studied me. After a few moments of silence from me not knowing where to start, I could see his eyes soften as he shook his head slowly. "No. No." He took a step back weakly and my mother looked at him, lost.

"What is it?" She begged.

He looked at me, his eyes watering as he held a hand over his mouth and shook his head. "No!" He dropped his hand from his mouth and pointed at me. "You would never do drugs. That's not you— you know better," he said lowly. "I did everything wrong as your father but I made sure you knew that, at the very fucking least."

I felt a nudge in my chest at his words as I remembered his countless lectures...but life didn't work that way. The past warnings and talks don't surface while you're in the midst of the shit. They come later, after the guilt and reality of what you've done to yourself sets in.

"Drugs mean a loss of control and you, Syn; my goddamn son—don't lose control," he snapped. "Tell me I at least know that about you."

I nodded, my eyes cast to the floor before I shrugged. "It just happened—"

"It just—" He held a fist against his mouth before moving his hands to his sides. "What drug?"

"Does it matter?" I asked, ignoring my mother crying into her hands and trying her best not to touch me.

"What drug, Syn?"

I sighed. "Capxica." As soon as the word left my mouth I knew what his reaction would be. The drug he spent the better part of my life trying to rid from the Underworld was the one that brought us to this moment. It had to be killing him.

Good.

"Capxi— you know how lethal that is! You could've died, Syn!"

He cursed, turning away from me and letting a frustrated breath out into his hands. I stood rigid, waiting for his chastising— his scolding about my needing to be the strongest and how I had failed him. I hated my father for everything in the book right now, but I knew his disappointment would hurt. It always did. Even when I felt nothing, I felt that.

He turned back to look at me, a mix of emotions flooding his tearful gaze. Anger, confusion, shock, betrayal— I saw all of those. I stood still, waiting for his rage to come down on me like a lightning bolt. But before I could muster up the tiny bit of strength to anticipate his next move, he strode toward me and wrapped his arms around me tightly.

This isn't right.

I tried to push him off me, resist whatever fucking mind trick this had to be, but he didn't budge. The harder I resisted, the tighter he held on. The feeling was foreign as it always was. I could count on two fingers the number of times my father had hugged me. The first being when I came back from the dead— understandably...and now.

"Stop fighting me," he said sternly, the emotion in his voice beginning to suffocate me.

"Let go."

"No," he snapped into my ear. "I've let go enough. Stop fighting me, Syn."

Against my intentions, I found myself stopping— letting myself sink into the hug as he kept his head on my shoulder. He rubbed my arm, his hug tightening by the second as he whispered words I never thought I'd hear him say. "God— father," I heard him say desperately. "Take whatever you want from me, please. But not my son— not him."

His prayer disrupted something deep within me. I didn't know if it was because I was angry at watching the man I had honored all my life fall to the knees of the "creator" we despised. Or if it was because this was the first time I had ever seen my father pray...and it was for me. I didn't want that. For him to be begging for my life from the being who brought us nothing but never-ending pain and destruction.

It pissed me off and I wanted to hate my father for putting me in the position to fight with my soul right now. I wanted to punch him— maybe even kill him.

"Don't fucking pray," I said in anger. "What has he ever done for us? Don't do that."

"You're my son. I will beg if I need to," he whispered and I shut my eyes tightly, trying to mentally fight against what he was doing. But I knew the truth I was so desperately trying to contend against.

I'd do the same thing as him.

If I needed to get on my knees and pray for God to spare one of the people I loved for them to live, I'd do it.

"What have I done?" He said lowly to himself. "Fuck, what have I done?"

I gave him a few seconds to simmer in his angst before sighing. "I'm okay now," I said, desperately needing this moment to end. "Spare yourselves the trouble of hating yourself or please do it later. Queen is more important to me right now."

I felt him nod as he pulled away slowly. He looked at me, a strong hand on my shoulder as he looked dead into my eyes. "Okay. Let's figure out what we need to do then."

I nodded and he took a step away from me, reaching to comfort my mother. I felt myself instinctively inch to assure her that I was okay, but I wasn't ready for that just yet. Perhaps if she had thrown herself at me like my father did things would've been different— but I had already pushed her away too many times for her to even dare try it. It was my doing, but if there was ever a time for her to reach out...it was now.

She sunk into his arms, not meeting my eyes and I let go of any lingering thought of letting my defenses down. A sniffling a few feet away from us made us turn to Drake and he wiped his eyes.

"Are you fucking crying?" Paris asked him.

"Yes, but not because of whatever that was." He shook his head.  "It's just that...it looks like you people aren't even close to leaving."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms as I looked at him. "We'll be out of your hair soon enough."

"Oh." He clapped. "You have no idea how happy that makes me to hear." He grinned. "But I know you're a liar so for everyone's information there are several guest bedrooms— pick one, any one...I don't care."

"You know," I spoke up. "For someone who claims to hate me as much as you do...you're being very generous."

He shook his head slowly. "How are you failing to understand that my problem is solely with you?" He asked. "You can find yourself a hotel somewhere right around the corner and up your ass, buddy."

"That's real nice, you're a joy."

"Yup, that's a little southern hospitality for you, asshole."

"Who is this man?" My father spoke up and asked once again, shocked by his blatant disrespect and I shook my head.

There was something I was missing when it came to Drake. He despised me enough to send Stella my way...though, I doubt he knew the lengths she went to. He didn't seem like the kind of man to tolerate the type of things she did to me.

He hated my guts yet treated my family with nothing but courtesy and graciousness as they bombarded his home. I hated not knowing the reason why he disliked me— what I had done to him to warrant his hatred. It truthfully felt better when I thought he was some evil asshole out to get me— a thorn in my side. But things had changed. He wasn't evil. Sure, he had a lot of questionable flaws— the drinking, the women, the million attempts to kill me, but he wasn't a monster. He wasn't like me.

If a person like him could truly despise me as he did, it had to be for a good fucking reason. I tried to search my memory for any eligible offenses but there were too many— I would've remembered him though. I'd have to have Mario run a background check on him when this was over so I could figure it out.

"So, Drake," my father said. "What do we do?"

Drake's face dropped. "Huh?"

"You're the one with all the info apparently," he continued. "How do we kill this thing?"

"Bro..." he started. "You tell me. You're the one who created them."

"And I only had one way of killing them— which Syn cannot do, as you know. It would kill him."

He walked right into it.

"In that case, I'm failing to see how that isn't a good idea," Drake replied.

There we go.

I sighed. "I agree with him, father. It's our only option—"

"No," he spoke up. "We are not losing you again. We'll find another way. We just need to think—"

"We don't have time to think," I reasoned with him. "And you heard Drake, he doesn't know any alternative either."

"Okay." Drake held his hands up. "I didn't say I didn't know another way, per se...I said that your idea sounded better."

We all looked at him and a bubble of hope fired in my chest. "There's another way?"

"Oh." He squinted his eyes at me. "It makes me so angry to see you so full of hope. I hate it."

"Drake, please," I said lowly. "I'll do anything. Help us." I hated hearing the desperation lacing my words but I meant it- my pride could be restored after Queen was safe.

"Help?!" He burst out. "Wait a minute! I was going to tell you an idea, not actively help you. This thing is dangerous and I am not ready to die just yet."

"Oh, come on," Paris spoke up in exasperation. "You have nothing better to do."

"Oh, so you're suggesting I throw my life away purely because I'm bored?" He asked. "I'll get a damn hobby! This shit is insane and quite frankly, not my problem."

I opened my mouth to speak up, prepared to remind him that Aiden wouldn't have even been a problem if he hadn't asked him to watch Queen, but Paris spoke up first. "You said you don't hurt kids or innocent people, right?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"She's a mother," Paris spoke. "She has a son whose life would be destroyed if she were to die- not to mention the millions of innocent people in the Underworld who'd mourn her loss. You can't tell us that you'd be able to live with yourself..."

I looked at him, astonished for a moment before looking at Drake whose stern composure was slipping. After a few moments, he crossed his arms, his eyes in slits as he stared lasers into Paris. "You sick bastard..." he started. "How'd you know what would work?"

"I'm good at reading people."

"Well." He sighed, leaning against his seat before flipping the both of us off. "Read that...Yeah." He nodded. "I'll help, but fuck you two...in cahoots- like a fucking pair of balls."

Wow.

My father let out a small laugh and pointed his thumb at Drake. "He's colorful with the insults, isn't he?"

"He's...something." I crossed my arms.

"Let's talk," Drake continued. "There's a lot you all need to know before you even try to face the dude. Sit." He gestured at the empty seats at his dining table and we all made our way toward it, each taking a seat.

"First thing's first," he said, looking across the table at me. "And I'm telling you this to prepare you, not piss you off."

"What is it?"

"Hasn't it crossed your mind?"

I shook my head slowly. "What?"

"He's a fucking shapeshifter...in your home...with the woman you love. I assume he knows she loves you back, no?"

"Yes..." I nodded slowly. If he didn't know before, he definitely knew after our little display in the basement. "He knows."

"Well, put yourself into his shoes," he said. "If you could be anybody...and the man your woman loved was out of the picture...why apologize when you can just be."

Be?

"Be what?" I looked around the table at everyone. "Be me?! I'm not out of the picture—"

"But Queen doesn't know that," Paris said slowly, looking at me. "She's expecting you to come home tonight...so all he would have to do is, come home."

"As you, of course," Drake added as if I didn't already get the fucking hint.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," my father added to reassure me. "They can only shapeshift into people they've had physical contact with." I froze. "So as long as you didn't..." my father's eyes landed on me hesitantly, "...touch him," he finished. "You touched him, didn't you?"

I rubbed my eyes, exhaling a deep breath. "Here and there."

"Oh, fuck," Cleo whispered.

"Well, I guess now we know why he stayed in those chains, hmm?" Drake asked, putting a nail in the coffin of the words he implied earlier.

"This was planned," I said, reiterating the fact out loud. "He wanted to be caught- knowing that I'd hurt him. Then he led us to you so that we'd leave Queen alone— fuck!"

"Mhmm." Drake nodded before looking at my dad. "They're highly intelligent beings, I'll give you props for that."

"I'm not understanding why we can't just call Queen and tell her to get out," Cleo spoke up.

"Yes," my mother agreed. "Why isn't that an option?"

"Because it's dangerous," Paris spoke up. "If this thing is going to manipulate her into believing that he's Syn- Queen revealing that she knows it's all a lie would send him spiraling. She'd be in a lot more danger than she is right now."

"So what? I'm just supposed to let her stay with him?!" I snapped. The idea was fucking preposterous. If she thought it was me, nothing was stopping her from touching him— kissing him...it made me sick to think about and it drove me crazy. "No, I'm not doing that."

"Well, you may need to put aside your jealousy for her well-being," Drake said. "If you're even capable of that."

"She would know it's not me," I said. "I know Queen, okay? She's smart. She wouldn't just out that she knows—"

"But is that a risk you're willing to take?" Xavier asked.

I hated this shit— everyone deciding they knew better than me when it came to the choices I made with her. In the past, it didn't bother me much since everything was new to me and I relied on them, but things were different now. Queen and I depended on each other. We made promises to one another— promises that would all be broken if I didn't find some way to let her know.

Despite what they thought, I knew her. I knew her mind- the way she worked and saw things. It took me a long time to get here, but I did and they were all wrong. I used to be hesitant about standing alone in my opinions against them— doubting that I had the necessary capability to make these decisions when it came to Queen...but those times were long gone.

I went to Earth by myself.

Worked tirelessly to get her back by myself.

Continuously tried my hardest to do what was best for us without anyone but us.

I asked her to marry me alone and she said yes to me. That was a vow of protection and trust— that she bestowed on me.

I knew they all cared for her and wanted her to be safe, just like I did. But where Queen was concerned, I had ultimate reign.

"Yes," I finally said. "It's a risk I'm willing to take." I could feel the disapproval being sent my way in sighs and groans but I remained unyielding in my decision. "I will find a way on my own to make sure she knows," I told them before looking at Drake. "And the rest of you discuss how we're going to kill him."

I stood up from the seat and everyone's eyes remained on me. "Where are you going?" My mother asked.

"To the house," I said simply. I could see the horror in her eyes as she looked at me and I rolled my eyes. "Relax, I won't do anything stupid. I just need to assess the situation— I won't even go inside. For all we know, he's still in the basement," I assured everyone. "I just need to make sure she's okay. Cleo, please create a portal—"

"I'll go with you," Paris said standing up. I looked at him, asking if he was sure and he nodded, adjusting his gun to his jeans. "It's still my job to protect you."

"Okay."

"I'm coming too." My father stood up from his seat and I raised a brow. "What? I suppose I play a small part in this thing being here in the first place—"

I tilted my head at him. "A small part?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm going with you."

"Me too," Xavier added.

I shook my head, seeing no point in arguing with them, and followed Cleo to the empty brick wall past the table.

"Okay, wow," Drake spoke up, looking at us. "Leave me with the women and children, then." He threw an arm up.I paused and turned to him, contemplating my choices. What if it was a trap and Aiden came here? What if this was his second time fooling us? Drake must've seen the questions circling in my mind because instead of arguing or teasing again, he nodded. "They'll be fine with me."

"Thank you," I said lowly.

He clicked his tongue, looking back down at his drink. "Not—"

"For me," I finished. "I know. But still."

He shrugged a shoulder, not looking back at me and I turned to Paris and Cleo. He told her the location, describing the cabin to a tee before she faced the wall and began the spell. After a few moments, the portal opened...

...and we stepped in.

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