Riser stretched his jaw. The skin was still pink beneath the line of his misshapen beard, and the side of his neck always felt sore. He rubbed his arm. The skin still itched where the burns had been most severe. His jacket had saved his life. It had protected him from the worst of the flames, but it had also caused the fire, and prolonged his pain. That bitch Henson had a lot to answer for. Riser ground his teeth and growled in the back of his throat.
He wasn't going to get angry about it. He had seen too many people waste their lives on bitterness and hate. What was done was done. Nothing could bring Damen back again. He had been through those thoughts a hundred times before. He had thought of nothing else while lying in the access tunnels, waiting for the endless pain to subside. Revenge was a luxury, best reserved for those who had nothing else to live for. People like that could afford to throw their lives away to get even. Riser had worked it all out. He had come to his own conclusions. He'd been living with hurt of one kind or another since he was a boy. How was this any different? He could waste his whole life, trying to punish the woman who had wronged him, but he couldn't take back what had already happened. Life threw rocks at you. The smart guy knew when to duck and when to jump up and catch.
Havers Compound had brought a lot of trouble into Riser's life, but it had brought a lot of credits too. There was still a lot he wanted to do with his life. He had fought his way out of the Mekinet News building, and he had grabbed every credit that he could in the process. Everybody had underestimated him. He would have the last laugh on all of them. Neech and Thompson had both tried to stop him. They had tried to prevent him from receiving the credits they had promised him too, but they had both failed. They hadn't realised who they were dealing with. Now they were the ones who were dead or missing, and Riser Trent was still a man to contend with.
Riser tugged at his wrist restraints, clenching his teeth as he jerked back and forth in his chair. If he could just get out of this bastard chair, he could get back to what he had been doing before the security forces had grabbed him.
Staying at Damen's apartment had been a mistake. He realised that now. It had been the easy option. It had offered certain possibilities that were too tempting to miss. Staying in Cinnamon City had been a risk too, one that he had thought worthwhile for the time. It had backfired on him. Once he could figure out how to escape, he would go find a place where he could stay outside of the city. He would go somewhere where nobody would be able to find him. He was already thinking about where that might be.
Riser slumped forwards in his chair, feeling suddenly tired. A tingling sensation spread across the top of his head. His eyes closed, and his breathing slowed to a deep regular rhythm. He felt as though someone had disconnected the power from his brain.
'I have no power,' he mumbled through slurring lips, but Damen didn't come to help him this time. Damen was dead.
He found his mind drifting back in time. He remembered when he was a small boy. He was up on the roof one day, on top of his parents' apartment block. The sun was shining bright in the sky overhead. It was a place that he and his brother often played, high above the bustling streets. It was a quiet up there. There was nobody to tell them what they could and couldn't do.
Damen was eight years old. His cheeks were bigger back then, and his hair was a mass of uncontrollable black curls. He was strong for his age. He wore a stained vest and shorts that day, as he often did. Riser was pretty strong too, but he was younger and smaller than his brother. Damen called him the runt of the litter. He was only seven.
They were both standing on the concrete roof of the apartment block that day. Damen had built a small pile of bricks in the middle of the roof, and for a long time, he stood in his shorts and vest admiring his creation. After a while, he walked across to the far side of the roof, putting as much distance between himself and the bricks as possible.
'Ready?' he said.
Riser nodded, watching nervously.
Damen took a long run up and jumped at the last moment. He flew high into the air, rotating his arms until he landed on the other side of the bricks, and then rolled sideways across the roof like a barrel. He got up quick, grinning at Riser with red scratches across his elbows and knees.
'You're bleeding,' Riser said.
'So?'
Damen was tough. He didn't usually care about hurting himself.
'Doesn't it hurt?' Riser said.
'What do you think? You're such a pansy. How did I end up with a brother like you? I should have had a sister. She would have been tougher. I know it.'
'Stop it!' Riser said. His brother was always teasing him. Sometimes he went too far.
Damen walked back towards Riser and told him it was his turn. 'Come on,' he said. 'You're a Trent. You have the family reputation to uphold.'
Riser laughed. They often joked about building a great empire and being highly respected throughout Cinnamon City.
'Remember, we're the best,' Damen said. 'We can jump over anything. We're the fastest runners in the Old Quarter. We're the best at fighting too, at least I am. You suck.'
'I don't,' Riser said.
Damen was always pushing himself to be the best at everything. The other kids were afraid of him. He sometimes joked about how he didn't want Riser lowering the family reputation, but Riser knew that part of it was true.
'We can be great, together,' Damen said. 'We can be the greatest brothers that ever lived. We just need to be tough.'
Riser didn't want to jump over the bricks. He was smaller than Damen. He was still growing his bones. That was what their mother had said when he'd asked her why Damen was so much bigger than he was. Their mother knew a lot of things.
'Come on,' Damen said. 'Just do it. Don't think about it. Only girls can't jump. Do it now.'
'I don't want to,' Riser said.
'You're a coward. You don't have any guts at all. I don't want you as a brother. You know why? Because you can't jump. You can't fight. You make excuses. You're just scared of everything. What use are you?'
Riser's face turned red but he wasn't going to cry, not in front of Damen. He started running, taking small careful steps, and when he got to the bricks, they looked too high, but he jumped anyway, just like Damen had told him to. He flew over them well enough, and he landed on his feet, but he couldn't roll on his side like Damen had. He didn't know how. He landed hard on flat feet and stumbled forwards, falling off balance. He hit the ground like a falling sack, banging his knee and slapping the palms of his hands on the ground.
It hurt real bad. If he'd been alone, he might have cried about it, but Damen was standing over him, watching his face to see what he would do. Riser had to be tough like his brother. His knee was throbbing and his hands stung like a bastard, but he just got up again, climbing to his feet as though nothing had happened.
'Easy!' Damen said. 'I said you could do it.'
Riser bit his lip and limped back towards the bricks. His ankle hurt when he walked on it.
'You still jump like a girl,' Damen said, but he was grinning now. He might even have been proud. 'You should have run real fast and jumped higher,' he said. 'If you hold back, it makes it worse.'
Riser nodded. He didn't know what his brother was talking about, but he had done well enough. He had jumped the bricks. Now maybe Damen would leave him alone.
Damen walked away. He stood looking over the side of the building. 'Come and take a look at this,' he said.
Riser walked over to where Damen was standing and Damen put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to the edge of the roof.
'No!' Riser said. 'I don't like it,' He tried to pull back but Damen hung onto him and wouldn't let go.