Page 122 of Outcast’s Return

I remember standing there in the Auclair mansion as a boy with Cromwell standing over my shoulder, praising my schoolwork. I remember him telling me that one day I would make my father proud. I remember him telling me that if my father were able to look down from heaven, he would be smiling.

That same man was the one who killed my father. For ambition. For a crazy goal to remake the Castaways.

“I can’t believe it,” Baptiste mutters.

Cromwell is unfazed by our shocked silence. He’s told us everything, and still, he knows he will get away with it.

After all, he’s the Supreme Elder now. And who are we?

Confidently, he turns to Clement.

“Surely you can see my logic, son. It’s been brutal, but needed. And now the future is bright, and now there will be no more killings. You can see what I’ve been trying to do, and you’ve always supported me before, so do you support me now?”

“You couldn’t have done all this,” Clement whispers. “I can’t believe you did.”

“I did it for you, son. For us. For our family. For the Castaways.”

“This isn’t what I wanted.”

Cromwell turns to me.

“Put aside your emotions, Fabien. Can’t you see this was needed? I raised you as my own, and now I need you.”

“You’re a usurper,” I spit back. “Don’t try this fake father bullshit. You didn’t raise me as your own. You commanded Jolie to end things with me. You’ve only ever cared about power.”

“You’re going to cry about a girl now?” he taunts. “You’re emotional and weak, and all you care about is your love. Christ, you’re just like your father.”

Before I can even react, Cromwell moves fast. He produces a small knife from inside his sleeve, and he stabs me in my stomach.

It’s so quick. One movement. A glimmer of steel.

Air immediately flees my lungs as heat floods my mouth. I find myself falling to the ground, my legs giving way under me. Pain suddenly hits like a train at full speed.

And I am consumed by the thought that this is exactly what happened to my own father, by the same man.

Jolie...

Is this how I’m going to die? Here? In this tiny, cold room?

She’ll never know the truth of how much I love her.

Above me, Cromwell is still talking as if stabbing me was nothing to him at all, but I can barely make out what they’re saying. My world is quickly shrinking and fading.

“I was the one who made you an Elder,” Cromwell says to Baptiste. “You can’t go against a Supreme Elder.”

“You’re a monster,” Baptiste spits back.

“Think of Sylvie,” Cromwell purrs. “Think of what I could do to her. Consider your next moves carefully, boy.”

“You’re insane.”

“You can’t do this.”

That’s Clement now. He’s visibly shaking, his eyes flickering between me and the Supreme Elder.

“You can’t go against your own father, Clement.”

“I’ll tell everyone what you’ve done,” Baptiste yells.