Depraved by Trent Evans

Epilogue One

Anson didn’t say anything at first, the two of them standing outside the cell. Waiting. Their silence said more than any words could hope to convey.

Then he opened Beckett’s cell door, and stood back out of view. Petra walked in.

Beckett seemed almost asleep, utterly motionless, his head down as he sat on his bunk. He looked up at her then, but he didn’t smile at her, his expression utterly neutral.

His face was gaunt, drawn. Too pale.

“I wanted to see you one last time,” she said.

“Well, here I am, sister,” he muttered. “You got to see your big bad brother. Feel better?” His grin was bitter, but his eyes were alight. She had his attention. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

She touched one of the bars, wrapping her fingers around the steel. She looked upon him once more. “I wanted you to know something. I wanted you to know who put you in here.”

His eyelashes fluttered for a moment, his lips sneering ever so slightly. “Does it even matter anymore, Petra?”

“I wanted you to know, that day after day as your wasted life flows away slowly, relentlessly, in your little ten by ten. I wanted you to know who was responsible for it.”

Beckett laughed. “I think we know it’s that cunt who’s responsible for it. Wyndham’s spawn. Stupid bitch thinks she’s a leader? It’s a sick joke.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, brother.”

But he didn’t respond to that right away, instead peering over her shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “Is that him out there? Gallantly escorting you in to see the monster? You know he’ll never really love you, don’t you? You’re just a piece of ass to him, Petra. That’s all you ever were to him.”

She said nothing for a moment, then shook her head slowly. “I’m not here to talk about him. But since you bring him up there is one thing I’d like to say about Anson. He’s always treated me better than my own flesh and blood. What do you think that says about you, brother?”

“I think it says he wants to get into your panties. Are you going to sit here and tell me that’s not what he’s after?”

“It doesn’t matter what he’s after, Beckett. Because, unlike you, he has choices in life, options, decisions to make. You? You’ve got four walls, and nothing but time, and regret.”

His expression was as stone-faced as a mountainside, but the bitterness in his eyes he couldn’t mask. “He’ll never love you, sister. He doesn’t know how to love… someone like you. Someone as damaged, and twisted, and fucked-up as you.”

It was her turn to grin, her eyes flashing. “I suppose we’ll find out in time, won’t we? Oh, wait. That is, I’ll find out, in time. You’ll never know, will you? Because while the world is spinning, while I’m living my life, and seeing if I can find love again? You’ll be in here, thinking about who did this to you.” She squeezed the bar tight in her hand. “I know something you don’t know, brother. It wasn’t Yulia who kept you alive. At first, she wanted you to have a nice, clean, tribunal—followed by a nice, clean hanging.”

Beckett’s face paled still more at that.

“But someone interceded. Someone pled their case with her. Would you like to know who that was?”

“Like I said, sister. None of that matters anymore.”

Petra shook her head slowly. “Oh, it matters very much, Beckett. You and I both know it does. Because the person who had your life spared…was me.”

His eyes grew cold, hard. “You’re a traitor, Petra. You’ve always been a traitor. But my love for you, for my sister, was my weakness. My burden.”

Petra backed up then, standing in the doorway of the cell. “My love for my brother died the day he left me for dead. And my last gift to him is the knowledge that every day he spends rotting in his cell, it’s because of the woman who used to be his sister. I wanted him to know that.”

Then she turned, slamming the cell door behind her. She took a deep breath, gazing up at Anson. “It’s done. It’s… finally over.”

“How do you feel?” His voice was uncharacteristically gentle, almost tender.

“Nothing. I feel… absolutely nothing.” She shrugged, glancing down at the floor. “I suppose I should feel something? But all I can think of is how relieved I am that I’ll never have to see him again.”

Anson took her hand for a moment, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Well, you’re right about that. But there’s something else you’re wrong about. Only one part of this is over. I think there… might be more to this story. To your story.”

Then they both walked out of the Brig together, leaving the pain of the past—and her former brother—behind them.

For good.