The Price Of Hatred

Chapter 24 - The Blueprint of Fate

​The wooden front door of the apartment flew open, splintering slightly against the interior wall as Tidder burst into the sitting room. Rainwater dripped from her leather jacket, her face pale, twisted in an absolute panic. Her chest heaved, her breathing ragged as she scanned the dim space.

​Todd was still there, lying flat on his back on the worn fabric of the couch. The heavy industrial bandages wrapped around his legs and head were stark and white against the gloom, though the supernatural heat of James’s forced healing still thrummed faintly beneath his skin.

​“Todd!” Tidder cried, her voice cracking under the sheer weight of her terror. She rushed toward the center of the room, her platform boots clicking frantically against the hardwood. “Todd, get up! We have to stop James right now. He’s completely gone—he’s not himself anymore. If we don’t intercept him before he reaches the main compound, he’s going to slaughter Arthur. We have to move!”

​Todd didn’t move. He lay perfectly still for a long, agonizing moment, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. Then, slowly, deliberately, he shifted his weight. He placed his newly healed legs firmly on the floorboards, sitting up with a cold, unbothered stiffness that made Tidder freeze.

​He looked at her, his eyes hollow, completely drained of the warmth he usually carried.

​“The very last time I called your phone, begging for a trace, you didn’t give a damn shit about James,” Todd said, his voice flat, dropping into a bitter, accusatory rumble. “You left him to rot. And now, suddenly, you’re bursting through my door, begging me to come with you to stop him from getting his hands on the man who ruin is life?”

​Todd stood up, testing his balance. His bones were perfectly straight, but the trauma of the basement still lingered in his posture. He stepped into her space, his stare boring directly into her soul.

​“Ask yourself one honest question, Tidder. Are you doing this because you actually give a damn about your brother… or are you doing this because of Arthur? The man who slaughtered your biological parents, but took real good care of you when James wasn't there to protect you. You actually think that monster is some kind of father to you, don’t you?”

​Tidder’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as a flash of defensive agony crossed her face. “No! It’s not what you think, Todd! You don’t understand the complexity of the faction—”

​“Yeah, it is,” Todd interrupted, his voice sharpening like a razor blade as he stepped right past her shoulder, heading toward the threshold. He stopped at the doorway, his back to the hall, before looking over his shoulder at her. Tidder remained rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the raw intensity in his expression.

​“I haven’t even seen this Arthur man yet,” Todd whispered, his jaw tightening inside his bandages. “But from everything James has endured—the prison, the torture, the systematic slaughter of his sanity—that old man thoroughly deserves to die for the sheer amount of pain he brought into my friend’s life. What the hell do you think I would do if I ever had the exact same chance? If the people who slaughtered my parents were standing right in front of my face, do you honestly think I would let any fucking blind love or childhood loyalty stop me from pulling the trigger? No. I’d bust their heads open, because it’s exactly what they deserve.”

​Tidder shook her head, tears of frustration gathering in her eyes. “Todd, you don’t know what James becomes when he uses that stone. It’s an infection—”

​“I’m not doing this so you can save your fucking Arthur,” Todd spat, turning his entire torso to face her one last time. “I’m doing this for my friend. I can’t let any goddamn ancient stone take complete control over his mind when we still have a dream to chase together. We were supposed to get out of this city alive.”

​Without waiting for her reply, Todd stepped through the doorway, his heavy boots echoing down the stairwell as he exited the apartment building.

​Outside, the midnight air was freezing, the rain coming down in steady, relentless sheets. Todd marched directly across the wet asphalt toward the unmarked black sedan parked along the curb. He walked to the rear of the vehicle, his fingers finding the manual release, and threw the car boot wide open.

​The interior of the trunk was an armory. Hidden beneath a heavy canvas tarp were rows of specialized, high-caliber tactical firearms—assault rifles with integrated suppressors, compact submachine guns, and reinforced ammunition crates, gleaming dully under the streetlights. Todd reached in, his hands selecting a heavy, matte-black rifle, checking the chamber with a practiced, mechanical click.

​The front door of the apartment building groaned, and Tidder stepped out into the rain. She walked slowly down the concrete walkway, stopping right beside Todd’s shoulder as he continued to inspect the weaponry.

​“Todd… I get what you’re saying to me. I do,” Tidder said, her voice shaking as she reached out a hand. “But Arthur—”

​“Tell me one thing first,” Todd cut in, his eyes never leaving the bolt carrier of the rifle. “Where the hell did a girl like you get this specific type of military-grade gear? Weapons like this aren’t exactly easy to find running around Spain.”

​Tidder’s expression went completely cold, the clinical training of her childhood resurfacing. “It’s the black market.”

​Todd let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Must have paid an absolute fortune to secure a stash like this.”

​“No,” Tidder said flatly, staring into the dark alleyway. “I didn't pay for it. I killed to get it.”

​Todd paused, his hands freezing over the ammunition crate. He slowly turned his head, looking at the sharp, remorseless silhouette of her jawline. A heavy, complicated sigh escaped his lips. “Yeah… you really do sound exactly like James.”

​“I am nothing like James,” Tidder snapped, her voice cracking with an intense, personal denial. “James is far beyond the person you think he is, Todd. The brother you think you know doesn't exist anymore. I hope to God you understand that before it's too late. I know you want to bring the real him back, but—”

​“Wait a minute,” Todd said, dropping the rifle back into the boot, his brow furrowing under his wet head bandages. “Don’t you want to get him back?”

​Tidder looked down at her gloved hands, her shoulders dropping as she let out a long, shuddering breath into the freezing air. “No… I really do want him back, Todd. I want it more than anything. I just wish… I just wish I could still find the human that used to be inside him.”

​“James could be lost right now, yeah,” Todd said, his voice softening, taking on a heavy, philosophical weight as the rain beat down upon his jacket. He reached out, his hand grounding against the metal rim of the trunk. “But whatever is lost can still be found, Tidder. It’s not like the ones who are dead and gone forever. So don’t you ever give up on him. Never.”

​He looked up at the stormy sky, a strange, serene acceptance washing over his battered face. “I want you to know something… this tonight? This is just the beginning of the end. Whatever happens tonight to any single one of us… it was always meant to happen. None of us has the power to change what is already written in the stars. So let go of the fear. Stop trying so hard to alter what’s already destined to happen just to get us to the place where we were always meant to be.”

​Tidder stared at him, a profound, tragic respect softening her eyes. “You are thoroughly smart, Todd,” she whispered, her left hand slowly sliding behind the small of her back, her fingers wrapping around the grip of a heavy, industrial-grade stun gun hidden beneath her motorcycle jacket. “But you're just not smart enough.”

​Todd’s eyes narrowed. Without a single trace of surprise, his gaze dropped to her shoulder alignment. “Yeah. And I already know you’re holding a loaded stun gun right behind your back. What exactly are you planning to do with that?”

​“I’m going to do what is right,” Tidder said.

​Instantly, the air shattered.

​Fueled by pure adrenaline, Tidder exploded into motion. She whipped her right leg upward in a blinding, high-extension crescent kick aimed directly at the side of Todd’s head. The wind hissed from the sheer velocity of her boot. But Todd’s reflexes were primed; he took one sharp, calculated step backward, the heavy sole of her platform boot missing his temple by a fraction of an inch.

​“What the hell are you doing?!” Todd shouted, his hands coming up into a defensive guard, his chest heaving. He didn't want to hurt her; he refused to strike his friend's sister.

​“I’m trying to save his life!” Tidder yelled back, her face twisted in determination.

​She pressed the attack without a second of hesitation. Pivoting on her left heel, she launched herself into his personal space, throwing a fierce, heavy combination of straight punches. Todd ducked and wove through the rain, his armored forearms rising to deflect the blows, the concussive cracks of their limbs colliding echoing down the empty street. Tidder’s combat precision was overwhelming; she feinted a left jab, forcing Todd to parry upward, and immediately drove a brutal, low shin-kick into his newly healed thigh.

​The impact buckled Todd’s leg, sending a jolt of phantom pain up his spine. He stumbled against the side of the sedan, his wet boots skidding on the asphalt.

​Before he could regain his footing, Tidder closed the distance with terrifying speed. She used her forward momentum to drive her elbow straight into his chest armor, the force knocking the wind completely out of his lungs. Todd gasped, his back hitting the chassis of the car as he slid downward.

​Tidder didn't let up. She lunged forward, using her entire body weight to pin him against the street, her knee slamming hard onto his chest to lock him to the pavement. Todd thrashed underneath her, his larger frame struggling to break her leverage, but he held back his true strength, refusing to injure her.

​Taking advantage of his hesitation, Tidder brought the stun gun forward, pressing the twin metal prods directly against the center of his chest tactical vest.

​CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

​A violent, high-voltage blue electrical current exploded through the damp air, surging directly into Todd’s central nervous system. His body went rigid, his muscles locked in a violent spasm, and his eyes rolled back as the current overwhelmed his brain. Within two seconds, his consciousness switched off entirely, and his head fell limply against the wet asphalt, his breathing heavy but stable as he fainted.

​Tidder remained pinned over his chest for a long time, her hands shaking violently as she stared down at his peaceful, unconscious face. The rain washed the tears from her cheeks, her voice a broken whisper inside the silence of her own mind.

​I’m so sorry… I had to do it, she thought, her chest aching with a profound, suffocating grief. If things go exactly as they are currently written… none of us will end up well. None of us will ever be able to heal from the absolute monsters we will become in that compound. So I have to rewrite what was written. One of us must die so that another can live. Please… take care of James when I am gone, Todd. Find whatever piece of human is left inside his heart.

​Forcing herself to stand, she wiped the rainwater from her eyes and turned toward the open boot of the sedan. Working with frantic, mechanical speed, she began grabbing the heavy assault rifles, extra magazines, and explosive charges, packing them securely into a massive, heavy-duty black canvas weapons bag.

​She zipped the bag tight. Moving to her own tactical belt, she drew a sleek, high-caliber semi-automatic pistol, checking the chamber before sliding it securely into the holster resting beside her right waist. She drew a secondary weapon, a compact tactical knife and a backup piece, latching it tightly beside her left waist.

​With the heavy weapons bag slung over her shoulder, she marched over to the matte-black sport bike parked in the shadows. She hoisted the canvas bag, strapping it securely across the rear passenger seat with reinforced bungee cords.

​Tidder swung her leg over the leather seat, her platform boots finding the footpegs perfectly. She reached out, turning the ignition key.

​The high-displacement engine roared to life with a fierce, guttural scream that shattered the silence of the residential street. She kicked the gear shift down into first, twisted the throttle entirely, and tore away from the curb. The rear tire kicked up a massive spray of rainwater as she vanished into the dark, driving at a fatal, screaming speed toward her final destination.