Welcome! Thanks so much for reading my story :)

I hope you enjoy this journey!


The piercing scream jolted Jake from his dull task, the pages of the well-worn book forgotten, plummeting to the ground as it slipped from his fingers.

Every single muscle within his body tensed, heart pounding as the familiar protective instinct curled over him-smothering him.

Another guttural scream hung within the sullen silence, the two brothers shared an uneasy glance as Jake threw his weight against the door and shoving the door open with ease.

Steven rushed to Marc's side, concerned at the dark nightmare Marc was confined in, blankets twisted around his form as he thrashed-yearning to escape the smothering panic of the nightmare.

"Marc!" Steven shook his brother, desperate to stir him awake from his current trapped slumber.

"Marc, you're safe."

The mercenary's eyes fluttered open, an unguarded, panicked expression twisted upon his face as he tried to comprehend the thin line between reality and his lingering nightmare.

The sight of Steven, eyebrows upturned as he stared at his brother with pure concern, shoved Marc from his thoughts-The American's hand snaked underneath his pillow, grasping his weapon.

And in one sudden motion, Marc sprung up from the bed, roughly twisting Steven as the sharp blade ghosted against his neck.

"Marc!" Jake barked, eyes wide with alarm as a tumbling fear bubbled over at the frozen shock on his little brother's face. The protector noted with alarm that Steven's breaths grew shallower, violent tremors shook his body.

"Marc calm down, you're safe." Jake couldn't hide the wavering tremble even if he tried, raising his hands in the hopes to calm the kid down and safely get Steven away from him.

" Marc ?" The hushed whimper tore at Jake's heart, the unbearable screeching of his instinctual protectiveness gripped at his heart with an icy dread.

" Shut the hell up." Marc growled, undeterred by the smothering fear that constricted, twisting in the air. The mercenary's every muscle was taught, tensed as if expecting a fight, his cocoa eyes hardening in an expression that Jake couldn't place.

"Kid, put the knife down. We can talk without anyone getting hurt."

Jake pleaded, shuffling a step towards the two; which instantaneously resulted in Marc's tightened grip on the Brit and yanking him back against the wall.

The helpless tsunami of emotions threatened to sink him under, his throat closing as Steven tried to crane his neck to gaze at his brother, to no avail as Marc shoved the knife deeper into his neck.

" Shut the fuck up. You have five seconds to tell me who you are, before I kill him."

What…

Jake struggled to breathe as the pressure of the knife tightened, an anguished, torn look graced his face-he had to think, had to get Steven away.

Despite the growing desperation, he couldn't think, couldn't reason as the frayed questions provided no help.

" Marc?" Steven's voice caught upon a sob, a whispered plea as he yearned for his brother to come back.

"It's us. Jake and Steven, your brothers."

"Brothers?" Marc's harsh bark of laughter spilled from his throat and Steven flinched as the tip of the knife pinched painfully into his skin.

"My brother died."

Jake's stomach twisted, dread and horror snarling with each inhale, sinking its claws deeper and deeper into the protector.

"Kid, please. Put the knife down ."

"Stop calling me that!" The vicious snarl ordered and Jake could only nod in response, taking a wide step backwards, in the hopes to provide a sense of drifting calm so that Marc may loosen his grip on his kid, or the weapon.

The protector's instincts blared, thundering deep underneath while his body tensed and untensed-the overwhelming need to protectprotectprotect spiralled every attempted comprehensive thought.

"Right. I'm sorry Ki -Marc." Jake's eyes were forced from the sniffling form of his kid to Marc's fiery gaze.

"How about this, if you let my brother go, I'll stay with you and we can just talk."

A beat passed, a second which felt more like eternity as the American's face twisted into a guarded suspicion.

"He's your brother?" The question was cold, icey as if Jake was a stranger and dripped with distrust.

"Yeah, he's my brother and I don't want him to get hurt." Jake kept his tone soft, the words spilling from his mouth as the plethora of feelings crumbled his feeble resolve. (fear, a bone chilling fear creeping under his skin.)

"You know how that feels right? Wanting to protect my family, my brother?"

"Yeah." Marc's bone-white grip on the knife loosened ever so slightly, despite this; Jake wouldn't allow himself to relax until Steven was safe and next to him.

"As an older brother, it's my job to protect him." Jake continued, locking eyes with Marc's attempting to hopelessly interpret the thoughts as the pinched brow and tightlipped stare bored into the protector's soul.

"So please, I'll stay with you, keep the knife if ya want. But let my kid go."

"What? Jake, what are you…" Steven's insistent tone trembled, but he held strong; unwilling for Jake to even consider leaving his brother alone with Marc.

"Please Marc. For Randall , you know what it's like to lose a brother, I don't want to go through that ever ." Jake interrupted, begging the mercenary to let the innocent alter go from his dangerous grasp.

Perhaps it was Jake's begging, his tone thick with sorrow as he continued his speech; or perhaps it was the brief mention of Marc's brother, the young Randall and the crashing grief touching deep within his mind; or maybe it was the stifling cries from the younger brother, his body quivering like a feeble leaf against Marc's deathly grip.

Or maybe it was the swirling mix of all those elements that caused to Marc drop his arm, shoving Steven towards the New Yorker, to which the older brother rushed forwards and embraced him tightly-as if to reassure himself that the younger brother was indeed safely out of harm's way.

"You alright kid?"

Steven eased into the warmth of the hug, a nagging alarm that Jake's heart pounded frantically within his chest, a minimal tremor enveloped the cab driver undeterred by his efforts to still his emotions.

"I'm fine, Jake." The mutter was barely audible as Steven's face buried into Jake's shoulder, fighting back the tears.

"Alright." The protector mumbled, barely audible within the confines of the hug, hoping that Marc couldn't pick up their conversation.

"What do we do kid?"

How do we fix this?

"I…don't know."

Weak.

Jake felt the powerlessness rear its head, how…how could they fix this?

"...But I'm not leaving you alone." The Brit continued, snapping Jake from his thoughts.

With him was left unsaid but it was implied, because everything considered, right now; Marc was dangerous .

A heaved sigh sagged Jake's shoulders, but reluctantly he agreed.

"Kid, I'm not going to argue with you. But you have to promise that you'll stay behind me."

His kid nodded and in a single movement, Jake slipped from the embrace; holding Marc's unwavering gaze as he stepped forwards.

Marc notably stiffened, jaw clenched while Jake maneuvered himself in front of Steven, a flickering and protective expression bleeding upon his face, flicking deep within his eyes.

"Right, let's talk K- Marc. What's the last thing you remember?"

"The last thing I remember?" A hard edge was notable with suspicion, his instincts coursing through him not to trust the older brother.

But he remained in his position, he would only attack if he did not receive any answers.

"Ok." Jake shifted his stance, eyes flitting to the glinting knife which seemed to laugh mercilessly at him, cackling.

"I'll start from the beginning, name's Jake Lockley. My brother's name is Steven Grant."

"Marc Spector, although you already knew that, so I ask again who the fuck are you and what do you want ?" The American spat out, lip curled in distaste at the possibility he was kidnapped.

"Wait, before I answer that. What is the last thing you remember?" Jake repeated, the stubborn male unwilling to budge upon the topic.

Jake was desperate to know what happened, yearning to know how he could fix this.

How he could help Marc.

An irritated sigh hung in the air, however; despite the mercenary's irritation, his grated tone forced out an answer.

"I remember…"

Scrunching his eyebrows, he thought back, trying to grasp the slippery memories tightly, which proved more difficult than anything.

"I remember…" The repeated mantra was noticeably less confident, the confusion thick in Marc's voice.

"The desert, I died ."

The American's words dawned upon the protector, mind whirling, recoiling in pure shock.

Marc didn't remember anything after that period of his life!?

Couldn't recall them…

"Marc, you've lost your memory." Jake's explanation was urgent and Marc rolled his eyes at the typical brainwashing tactic.

"We want to help you. But you have to trust us, please . . "

The knife was raised, pointed, threatening towards the New Yorker; who didn't react, simply curling his arms around his brother as if he wanted to protect him.

"The last person that I trusted was Bushman and he fucking killed everybody ."

Jake's mind whirled with the grasping possibilities of why.

What could have caused this?

"Jake what do we do?" Steven asked, a note of fear thick in his voice.

What could they do?

Jake needed Steven away from him, couldn't risk Marc hurting his kid.

Fuck, The New Yorker felt so lost, a tumbling darkness enveloping him at the hurt that stung deeply within him.

Jake would never admit that Marc's loss of his memories reminding him too much of a time when he was unaccepted.

A time when he was shoved into the shadowy depths of despair, unable to reveal himself.

"I don't know, kid." The hesitant truth hurt more to admit aloud.

"Let me out of this prison or I swear I will force myself out." Marc growled, teeth baring as he stepped closer, threateningly.

"I can't let you out.." Jake could not risk this Marc gaining control of the body.

"But I promise we just want to help."

"Well then, I'm going to have to…"

"Kid, I need you to listen to me very carefully." Jake hushed, ignoring the menacing, wrathful figure of the mercenary, instead addressing his kid behind him.

"Get out of here and call Layla. Explain what's happening, we need all the help we can get."

"But…" Steven's protested argument was suddenly cut off as Marc lunged forwards, with all the intent to hurt Jake.

" Please kid . I can't protect you and hold him off at the same time." Jake grunted out, swerving to avoid the wide swing of the knife, the metallic sound reverberating within the air as it thudded into the wall.

Steven scrambled back, twisting the door open and with a rushed, heart-broken apology he shut the door, only spinning around as the unmistakable twisted clink of the lock was pushed in; holding sturdy.

A frenzied terror shook him as a tumbling crash echoed from the confines of the room.

"Jake!" The Brit called, knuckles rapping at the door as the deep guilt swarmed into him.

"Go kid!" Jake grunted, diving narrowly as the knife swiped at him; breaths heaving with effort.

Reluctantly, Steven shoved himself away from the door and sprinted to the front.

.

The scrambling for their phone had resulted in it tumbling from his grasp, and with muttered curse at his shaky hands he dialled the familiar number, the dial tone setting him more on edge as he muttered a pointless plea.

please pickup please pickup

"Hello?" The floated voice of Layla crumpled Steven's shoved mask and he failed to blink the stinging as tears traced down his face.

"Layla." Steven's voice cracked, wavering as the sobs consumed him and Layla jolted up immediately, concern wrapping around her.

"Are you alright?"

"We need your help. Please."

.

.

.

The eerie silence sunk, the air taunt with danger which seemed to suffocate him.

Hesitating, he encroached closer, tapping upon the door; Steven's voice, a desolate call springing from his lips.

Hoping, praying for an answer.

"Jake?"

A sinking dread froze his blood as the hushed quiet instead provided no answer, no clue.

"Marc?"

The lack of answer gripped him in the claws of terror and in a sudden twist of the door handle, only resulted in the rattling click of the door, unbudging.

His eyes widened, an unbridled desperation shaking him to his very core as he descended into pounding on the door, louder; each thud sending him near tears.

"Jake! Marc!"

The door remained locked.

Absorbing all the possible destruction from within.

.

.

.

Inside the room, the choked whimpering gasp was torn from the hunched figure, the walls swallowing the cry, unable to be caught from beyond as the betrayal shone, eyes watering as they stared at the other.

Oh god…

What had he done…? That was the only thought that arose from the chaos of the other's mind. Collapsing to his knees, silent sobs racked the figure.

What had he done…?


What an ending to the chapter right haha (sorrryyy)
Find out next time what happens and who was injured (and who is guilty)

Thank you so much for all your support! If you liked this fic then please let me know :)