The Monster Outside

The peace lasted for an hour.

Then Julian’s phone buzzed on the table.

* Unknown Number.*

Julian stared at it. "It’s him."

Vane picked up the phone. He pressed answer and put it on speaker, saying nothing.

"I know you’re in there, Jules," Caleb’s voice sneered through the speaker. "I tracked your GPS. Nice building. Who’s the sugar daddy? Did you spread your legs for some rich guy to get away from me?"

Julian whimpered.

"I’m outside," Caleb continued. "Come down in five minutes, or I start smashing the windows of the cars in the lot until I find yours."

Vane ended the call. He stood up.

The transition was instant. The gentle protector vanished, replaced by the predator Julian had seen in the precinct. Vane cracked his neck.

"Stay here," Vane ordered. "Lock the door behind me. Put these on."

He tossed a pair of noise-canceling headphones onto the couch.

"Damien, don't," Julian pleaded, standing up and letting the blanket fall. "He’ll call the cops on you. He’ll sue you."

"Let him try," Vane said. He walked to the door. "Don't look out the window, Julian."

Vane left. The lock clicked.

Julian stood in the silence of the apartment. He looked at the headphones. He looked at the window.

He went to the window.

He had to know. He had to see what he had unleashed.

It was raining hard again. the streetlights reflected off the wet pavement. Caleb was standing on the sidewalk, holding a baseball bat, looking up at the building.

The front door of the complex opened. Vane stepped out.

He wasn't wearing a coat. He walked slowly, his hands at his sides.

Caleb laughed, swinging the bat. He shouted something Julian couldn't hear through the glass. He gestured aggressively.

Vane didn't stop. He walked straight into the swing.

Caleb swung the bat. Vane caught it. He caught the aluminum bat with one hand, stopping it mid-air.

Caleb froze.

Vane wrenched the bat away and tossed it into the gutter. Then, he moved.

It was brutal. It was efficient. It was terrifying.

Vane grabbed Caleb by the lapels of his expensive jacket and slammed him into the brick wall. He didn't hit him once. He hit him methodically. A punch to the gut that doubled Caleb over. A knee to the face that snapped his head back.

Caleb went down. He tried to crawl away.

Vane stepped on his hand. He crouched down, gripping Caleb’s hair, forcing him to look up. Vane said something—probably only three or four words—and then shoved Caleb’s face into the wet concrete.

It wasn't a fight. It was a dismantling. It was a monster destroying a bully.

Julian watched, his hand pressed to the glass. He felt a strange, cold sensation in his stomach. It wasn't pity for Caleb. It was relief. It was the dark, shameful realization that he wanted Vane to hurt him. He wanted Vane to make sure Caleb never came back.

Vane stood up, wiped his hands on his pants, and looked up at the window.

He saw Julian watching.

Vane didn't look ashamed. He looked defiant. He stood over the broken body of the ex, staring up at the boy he had claimed, waiting for judgment.