Chapter Twenty Three

"Yes," I said, looking him in the eye. "It is the only option."

"It can't be."

"You know we cannot risk anyone finding out. Secrecy is of the utmost importance. And if death will protect us, then death is the final verdict."

Dexter appeared conflicted, the choice between helping or going against us a difficult one to make. He frowned deeply. He glanced over at the couch, riddled with sadness. "I'm sorry," his apology the only words he could muster.

I smiled at him despite the anger. "You are very loyal."

"Unfortunately," he mumbled, the response nearly inaudible.

I approached the couch, the rustling of the leather more frantic. "There's no way out," I said darkly.

Behind me, Dexter continuously whispered "I'm sorry." even though his apology meant nothing. He chose his side. There is no apologizing now.

A heavy hand dropped down onto my shoulder, startling me. I turned abruptly and caught this person by the neck, my left hand squeezing as tightly as possible. "Abel?"

He wrenched my hand away, violently tearing it off of his now bruised neck. "You can't do this."

"And why can't I?"

"You know what the rules are, Alexi," he said. "You cannot kill those we are sworn to protect."

"Yes, I know that. But I'm sure you are aware of the fact that secrecy matters more to us than anything, and if what we must do to preserve it is kill, then so be it."

Abel stared at me, wide eyed. "I cannot believe you are going against everything we stand for. This can be dealt with another way, Lex."

"And what was is that?" Cole asked, turning toward his brother.

"We can…try to work something out…"

"Oh, look, the almighty Abel doesn't know what to do. Even you are conflicted. Deep down in your heart, you know that protecting the Brotherhood is worth risking the death of an innocent. Since when are you to say no to a kill? A man who craves blood, like an addict craves his next fix. You said it yourself, Abel. You need blood."

Abel clenched his jaw, his narrowed eyes flitting around the room anxiously. "I know what I need…what I crave. But you cannot do this, it simply isn't right."

"Right or wrong doesn't matter now."

"You know what must be done," I said to Abel. "This one must die."

Abel glanced over at the couch, then back at me. "Secrecy is our main priority, so is protecting the innocent people. So, if you can imagine….I don't know what to do."

"I know, I realized that," I said.

"So why not be considerate of that fact? Why not discuss this? Why do you have to be so cold and uncaring? You know what our job is, and what you're suggesting, or rather willing and ready to do, goes against everything we stand for. Everything the Brotherhood itself was founded on."

I grimaced. "I'm not being cold, I'm trying to protect us. What other option do we have, Abel?"

"You are. Maybe you just don't realize it. But we can try and fix this while we still have time. We don't have to resort to murder," he said.

"It's not murder," I said, raising my voice.

"Then what is it?"

"It's protecting us, all of us. If anything gets out because of this nuisance, we could all be in danger. Dexter included," I added, looking over at him. "We don't have much of a choice, Abel. We can't risk anything, not now."

Abel stared at Dexter. He held his breath for a moment. "Dexter…are you…okay with this?"

He shrugged.

"I need an answer, Dex."

"I can't tell you if I am or not…I don't know what to say," he frowned.

"You're obviously troubled by this," I said.

"How couldn't I be?"

"You're right," Abel said. "But I suppose it doesn't matter."

"How?"

"You follow what we do. Technically, you're not a Brother yet. Granted we value your opinion greatly, you don't have much say in the matter."

Abel nodded. "If we decide to kill, we're going through with it. I still think it's wrong, but…"

"But what?" I asked.

"You were right…I guess. Secrecy is our top priority. We can't risk anything."

I nodded solemnly. I looked over at Dexter, his once unemotional self riddled with worry and sadness. He shook slightly, panic overwhelming the man. This may be the first time he has felt these emotions. It must be scaring him to death, to feel such things. And all at once, too.

I frowned at him, suddenly feeling remorse for my hasty reaction, for neglecting to think things out. Normally, I would have taken the time to evaluate what had happened, but for some reason, I reacted on instinct. My first reaction was to kill, and that bothers me immensely. I have the ability to reason, and yet instantly, I decided on murder.

What kind of person am I? I should have taken a step back…assessed the problem. I suppose the stress of the past few days has gotten to me.

I shook my head, and stepped backward until the back of my knees hit the coffee table. I collapse onto the small structure, dropping down heavily onto it. I placed my head in my hands and shut my eyes, taking deep, calming breaths. The men continued to talk around me, discussing what needs to be done. I drowned them out, the only sound that I could hear, was that of my erratic heartbeat and the ragged breaths I drew in every now and then.

I sat there hunched over for a good while, cutting everything out, detaching myself from everything around me.

Whenever I had been overwhelmed with stress, I tended to shut everything out. I ignored everything and everyone around me, numbing my emotions. I became increasingly objective, emotionally invested in nothing. At all. And although I rarely spoke, my mind was never silent. My thoughts raced, my mind a raging storm. Constantly those very thoughts plagued me, ranging from a simple musing, to something that disturbed even myself.

I took a final breath, and lifted my head, staring at the couch before me. My eyes softened, no longer angry and cold as they had been not long ago. "I'm sorry. I reacted on instinct, I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you. It was foolish. Surely you understand how such trying situations can strain your patience, making you act in irrational ways."

The figure before me nodded, rattled by what had occurred within the past ten minutes or so.

"I'm glad you understand," I smiled. "Now, you have heard many things within the past half hour, haven't you?"

Again, the figure nodded, whimpering quietly.

Still smiling, I said, "How much do you value your life?"

No response.

"Either you wish to die, or you're still too scared to answer. Either way, I need a response from you."

"A lot…I don't want to die," the person said quietly, their voice quavering.

"Then if you don't want to die, you must never speak of what you have heard today. Do you understand?"

The figure shook their head rapidly.

"I cannot hear your head rattling; speak. Now."

"I understand," they said lowly.

"Good. We'll be watching you. God forbid you ever slip up, and speak of this, I'll cut your tongue right out of your mouth." I narrowed my eyes at the person before me.

Abel spoke. "Expect us to be following you from now on. You swore you would not say anything, and if you do, we'll kill you."

A lone tear ran down the figure's cheek. With a shaking hand, they wiped the tear away.

Dexter took a seat next to the figure on the couch, wrapping a comforting arm around the figure's waist. "If you speak of any of this, they'll be in grave danger. And so will I. because I'm a part of them now, Deb."

Debra turned to look at her older brother, disbelief written across her face. "Please tell me this is all a joke, Dexter…a sick, sick joke…"

A grim expression covered his face. "I'm not kidding….none of us are. We're all….killers." Admitting his true self to his sister looked painful, for he cringed while speaking, waiting for her reaction.

Debra slinked away from her brother, pressing herself into the arm of the couch, trying to get as far away from her murderous brother as possible. She looked at him, disgusted at what she saw. And despite the momentary hatred she felt for him, she broke down and cried, allowing Dexter to hold her.

She shrank in his arms, sobbing violently. She looked terrified, and utterly confused as to what was going on around her. "I don't believe you…how could you kill? How are you…like them?" She turned toward the three of us, looking at each of us skeptically. "Are you all even killers?"

Cole, a familiar, and once friendly face, stepped forward. "All of us are, Debra. The three of us, including your brother," he said, looking at Dexter.

"He's right. Your brother has been killing from an early age, his homicidal tendencies stemming from his witnessing of his mother's brutal death. His, well, your father trained him. Gave him a code to follow; he isn't a normal killer, Debra. He doesn't kill at random. He kills those who deserve to die, the scum of the earth."

Once again, she tore herself out of Dexter's hold, but this time stood up, stumbling slightly on shaky legs. "I…I really don't know what to say about all of this. I…I can't believe this, Dex."

Dexter stood up, eye level with his sister now. "You can trust me. You can trust all of us," he looked at us. "They're good people."

"They're psychos, fucking killers, Dexter!"

"Excuse me, but we do not like being called psycho killers, you wretch," I said, my nose wrinkling in annoyance. "We're a part of….never mind, I'm not going through all of that again, ask your brother about our origins." I sighed.

"What I'm trying to say is, is that your brother is right. You can trust every single one of us. Since you're related to Dexter, we'll protect you, just as we will look over him. We could also help you with this case you're working on," I added.

She breathed deeply, raising an eyebrow at the last thing I had said. "How will you protect me? And help with the case."

"We're all trained killers," Cole said, answering Deb. "We can protect you. We will watch over you constantly, whenever you're working alone, or even at home. We'll be there to make sure you're safe."

"And as far as the case goes," I said, "I know a lot more about the victims of the murders than anyone in Metro. I can give you some insight into the case, in turn, you can help me find out who killed her…before I got to."

"Why were you going to kill her?" She said incredulously.

"I have a list of reasons. But before I can delve into them, I need to know that you trust me. I'm going to be working with your brother a lot, now. And since you know who I am and what I do, you'll be involved in this, too."

She shook her head. "I'm still not sure about all this…"

"You have no choice, whether you can be sure or not. It's either you are, or we kill you."

She gasped slightly.

"Oh, don't act all horrified now, we've been making death threats since we saw you lounging on the couch. Why were you here anyway?"

"I forgot my phone. So I came back inside to get it," she said. "And when I came back in, I felt sick, nauseas. So I sat down. I wound up passing out for a few minutes….and then I woke up. And heard all of you."

"Why were you sick?" Dexter asked.

"I don't know. I just felt light headed all of a sudden, felt like I was going to throw up."

"Hmm, well, at least you weren't intentionally being nosy," I joked.

A faint smile crossed her lips. "No, not intentionally. Sorry I listened in…really sorry I listened in. Some things shouldn't be heard," she muttered.

"You're right about that. But some good things came out of this, I suppose," I said.

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well, there's no more secrets. Plus, you have us to watch over you, and you have help with your case. And I'm sure you wouldn't mind that."

"No, I wouldn't, I guess…"

"Well, there. Is everyone alright now?" I asked, looking around. "For the most part, anyway."

Everyone nodded.

"Alright…well, Deb, I guess you should go. Dexter, too. You should both show your faces back at work." I sighed. "Let us handle everything for now, let us know when you have any new leads. And Deb?"

"Yeah?" She asked tentatively.

"I apologize for all of this. It was unneeded. But, I have something for you, a suggestion, that could help with the case."

"What?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"The principal, to my knowledge, hadn't signed in on the day of the murders. And yet, through his computer, a mass email was sent, alerting the staff of the atrocities that had occurred. He had even made one or two announcements during the period in which we were locked down. As a matter of fact, there was no record any of the office staff had signed in. Check their homes, see if they were there."

Debra nodded. "I hadn't known that. I'll look into it. Thanks…?"

"I assume you're asking for my name? It's Alexi."

"How are we supposed to keep in touch?" Dexter asked.

"I could give you my number, I suppose."

"Alright," he said.

I found a napkin on the coffee table, and with one of the pens Abel had handed me before, I scrawled my number out onto the paper. "Just call me if you have any leads, or if you want to meet and discuss anything."

Dexter nodded. "Alright, if me and Deb find anything out, we'll contact you."

"Okay. Now get to work, this way no one becomes suspicious. Remember, you don't say anything," I reminded them, looking at the siblings.

They both nodded, promising their silence.

Abel walked toward them, holding a large plastic bag out to Dexter. "Your phone, all of your tools, are in here."

"Thank you."

"Now go," Abel said. "Get back to your jobs. And Dexter, your car is in the garage, along with your keys. The door is open."

"Oh, alright. Thank you for bringing it back." He smiled briefly.

"No problem."

They left the house, shutting the door behind them for the final time today. Debra's car started and peeled out of the driveway almost instantly, rushing to get away from this house. Dexter soon followed, his departure less hasty than his sister's.

I looked at the two brothers. "I'm going to kill myself one of these days."