Brandon paced around in his cell. His heart pounded in his chest. It was only a few more minutes until he was released, and he still had no clue what he was going to do. Strucka was sitting on the edge of his bed in the opposite cell, his leg bouncing vigorously.

“Bro, is something up with you?” Strucka asked. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Yes, something is up with me,” Brandon said, giving him a dark look. “But I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Is it Ivan? His cell isn’t even in this wing.”

“No, not him.”

Strucka shook his head. “Man, you got it good. Why you gotta be so uptight? You’re famous, you’re smart, probably rich.”

“You don’t understand, do you?” Brandon shouted, getting up close behind the bars. “Those are the reasons why I’m in this mess, in this shithole!” He gestured to the metal walls around him.

A guard came striding down the hall with a ring of keys. Brandon eyed him skeptically. This guy could be Zandith in disguise. The guard kept his gaze low as he unlocked Brandon’s cell. Brandon stood there for a few seconds after the gate slid into the wall, unsure of what to do next.

The guard ignored him and went to unlock Strucka’s cell. Strucka looked up in surprise. “Oh, wait, I forgot! I get released today too!”

Brandon rolled his eyes. The sooner he got away from this nutcase, the better. He followed the guard out into the main lobby of the prison. He got a few looks from people, but he barely noticed. He was too preoccupied by the next few hours ahead. Strucka was behind him trying to get his attention, but his words just blurred past Brandon’s ears.

He contemplated Evan while he was in the police car ride back to his house. He knew his son would return to full health, but how much would the attack leave a scar in his life? No child should ever have to suffer from something like that.

Marvain was waiting outside the front of the house when he arrived. Her shoulders were raised slightly and her gaze lowered to the ground. She hardly looked at him as he got out of the car. He walked up to her and grabbed her hand gently. Their eyes met, reflecting back to each other the despair they felt.

Brandon debated on a kiss, but thought Marvain didn’t look open to it. They both walked each other inside. Marvain closed the front door but stayed facing it. Brandon leaned on the dinner table.

“So what now?” Marvain whispered, barely audible to Brandon.

He sighed. “Dinner.”

Marvain turned and glared at him, but he had already walked over to the pantry. She followed him and grabbed the pantry door. “Are you serious? We’re in the middle of a crisis and all you can think about is food?”

He looked at her incredulously as he grabbed a box of pasta. “I’ve spent the last three weeks thinking about our crisis, so excuse me if I seem aversive to the topic.”

“We could die, Brandon!” she shouted.

Brandon flinched at the harsh increase in volume, nearly dropping the box of pasta. He pointed the box at her. “You don’t know that.”

“The man who nearly killed our son is pulling both our strings, and probably a dozen other strings we don’t even know about.” She folded her arms and went up close to him, her voice hushed. “Are you sure you can’t tell me what you have to do?”

He looked into her worried eyes, wanting so much to tell her and yet too scared to do so. He grabbed her hand again, frowning. “Why don’t we just relax tonight, deal? I make dinner, you choose the wine.”

A hint of a scowl crossed Marvain’s mouth, but she relaxed it quickly. She studied his face before saying, “Fine, deal.”

Marvain backed away. Brandon got the pasta sauce. Neither of them said a word while he prepared dinner. She just sat on the living room couch, writing in a notebook. Brandon, on the other hand, tried his best to act calm. His mind kept trying to come up with some sort of plan to escape what he knew was going to happen tomorrow.

They were silent as they sat across from each other at the dinner table. Brandon swirled his pasta around with his fork, letting it cool for a couple minutes. He glanced at Marvain who just sat with her arms folded, staring at her full bowl of pasta.

“Anything new with your job?” Brandon asked, trying to sound casual.

Marvain rolled her eyes and grabbed her fork reluctantly. “Aside from the fact that I might have to go to court for something I was forced to do, no.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Go to court?”

Marvain looked at him with heavy eyes. “The other bidders. Duke is trying to get ahold of them, but they are planning to take action against the changed contract, and so far all the evidence points to me.”

“Duke seems like he would be a good witness in your defense.”

“Maybe, but he doesn’t have much in the way of counter evidence. The security footage from his place could be used against both of us. Zandith’s illusions have made this extremely difficult for us to have any proof.”

“So what happens if you are convicted?”

Marvain shook her head, letting her fork play in the pasta. “Best case, I lose my job and my reputation, and our savings becomes jeopardized.”

“Worse case?”

“All of the above, plus a prison sentence and or a gigantic fine. We’re talking millions.”

“I think we can take the hit.”

“Yeah, maybe you can, because you get royalties for life. If I’m convicted, I’m ruined. I’d have to find a completely different career.”

Brandon put a palm to the side of his face. “As if we didn’t have enough news articles written about us.”

She looked past Brandon out the window behind him, her eyes glazing over. “How did it get to this point, Brandon? What kind of mastermind are we fighting?” Her gaze slid over to Brandon’s. “Is it even worth fighting?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, trying to figure out what she meant. “Is it worth it? Are you kidding? Of course it’s worth it! We’re not just going to sit around while he fucks with our lives!”

She folded her arms, looking down at the table. “You know, I heard a quote once, and it stuck with me all these years. ‘Sometimes wisdom means knowing when to quit.’”

Brandon slammed his fist holding his fork into the table. “We are not quitting!”

“How many people will we endanger if we go after Zandith?” she demanded.

“How many people will we endanger if we don’t go after Zandith?” he countered. “How many more people will he manipulate if we don’t put an end to it?”

“The more we get involved, the more everyone around us gets involved, and the more we and others get manipulated. Besides, we shouldn’t let the actions of a criminal derail our lives, Brandon!”

He scoffed. “You say that like we have a choice. Didn’t you just say you’re ruined?”

Marvain glared at him. “No, I said I would be ruined if I’m convicted.”

Brandon was silent for a minute as he pondered the words of his wife. While he still felt strongly about going after Zandith, part of him was pained to admit she was also making sense. He sighed and looked down at his half-finished meal of pasta, biting his lip. “I met a few people while doing my time these past few weeks. One of them attacked me, claiming I ruined his life because of my technology. Apparently I had put his auto shop out of business. I told him I didn’t have anything to do with his business failing. Sure, maybe I made it more difficult, but it was his mistake to not respond to the change in the business environment. If I make the same mistake, then I will be the biggest fucking hypocrite in all of Eredore. And trust me, I know some people.”

Marvain shook her head. “It’s not like nobody is doing something about it. Let the authorities track him down and take him out. Hector and Domrik have more than enough reason to keep looking. What can you do that they can’t, anyway?”

“It’s not about what I can do, it’s about taking down a criminal terrorist.”

“Have you not seen what he’s done to me, Brandon? He’s made me simultaneously the victim and the perpetrator. I’m the suspect of my own case! All he needs to do is use some of that Aether illusion magic shit and next thing you know, you are the criminal.” She jabbed a finger at him.

Brandon put down his fork and sat back in his chair, folding his arms. “Are you suggesting he isn’t going to do that just because I don’t pursue him?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure going after him will give him more reasons to paint you in a false light.” She looked away, sighing. Her energy seemed to deflate a bit. “Will you ever listen to me?”

Brandon blinked. “I am listening! I’m just countering your points and I still think I’m correct.”

“Oh, of course!” Marvain threw her hands into the air. “Why was I even bothering to discuss this with the nation’s smartest scientist? He obviously has all the answers and is correct all the time! Well, news flash, brainiac: Not all problems can be solved, and sometimes trying to solve them will just make them worse!”

Brandon paused, trying to process her argument. Then he pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Okay, say I take your advice. Should I call Hector and everyone else off the criminal hunt and wait until Zandith turns himself in?”

“No, stop twisting my words! You don’t understand. I’m saying that we’re not police and we’re not vigilantes.”

He looked directly into her eyes, and could almost feel the anger pulsating from them. His posture relaxed a bit. “The only thing I don’t understand is why you’re not on my side. I would have thought what both you and Evan went through would be more than enough motivation.”

Marvain stood slowly, struggling to maintain eye contact. “You want to know why I’m not on your side?”

She waited a few seconds for his shrug before continuing. “I thought it was obvious, but I guess I’ll spell it out. I’m scared. No, terrified. You weren’t there when he threatened me. His power is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The thought of you going after him, along with Evan since he tries to follow in your footsteps. He could kill you so easily.” She wiped a tear away and collapsed back in her chair. “It’s almost too much for me to take.”

“Hey,” Brandon said in a low voice, extending a hand on the table toward her. He stuttered a few times before the right words came out. “I’m terrified too. And… I can’t guarantee anything. I don’t know what Zandith will do after… what I do.”

Marvain tentatively slid her hand over his, not really making an attempt to hold it. “At the very least, whatever he’s having you do, I trust you will make the right choice.”

He found her worried gaze impossible to interpret. Was she warning him? Was she just scared for him? Maybe she was still angry at him under the surface. He forced himself to look away when his own worry hit again. “That’s why I’m terrified. I don’t know if there is a right choice.”