PHOENIX

6| IT WAS STRANGE HOW HATRED WORKED

Jackson knew there was one mistake he would never recover from, one failure that would haunt him long after every other regret had faded into memory. If anything happened to Sue or Ethan because he hadn't done enough to protect them, he would never forgive himself. It didn't matter whether Sue understood his reasons or resented him for them. It didn't matter if she accused him of treating her like a child or insisted that she could make her own decisions.

As far as Jackson was concerned, there wasn't a single argument she could make that would convince him to stand aside and watch her march toward danger. He had spent years preparing himself for a confrontation with the Roys. Years learning how to fight, how to observe, how to disappear into the background when necessary, and, more importantly, how to stay alive. Every lesson had taught him the same thing: people like the Roys weren't defeated by courage alone. They were defeated through patience, planning, and an understanding that one careless decision could cost more than a single life.

The Roys were not ordinary enemies who relied solely on brute strength or intimidation. They had influence, resources, loyal people willing to dirty their hands, and enough power to make someone disappear without ever pulling the trigger themselves.

Jackson understood that better than anyone because he had devoted years of his life to understanding exactly how dangerous they were. Sue hadn't. She saw justice. Jackson saw graves. That was the difference between them. She believed exposing Roy would end the nightmare. Jackson knew it could very easily become the beginning of one. Perhaps calling it a suicide mission was an exaggeration, but only barely. A mission didn't have to guarantee death to carry the same weight. Sometimes all it required was a single mistake, a single overlooked detail, a single moment of misplaced confidence. Against a man like Roy, one mistake was often the only one you were ever allowed to make.

It was strange how hatred worked. Most people believed it was something that pushed a person forward, something that gave them strength when they had nothing else left. Jackson had believed that once. In fact, he had clung to that belief with every ounce of conviction he possessed. Hatred had been the only thing keeping him upright after almost losing his life. It had been the fire that burned in his chest every morning he woke up before dawn to train, every bruise he ignored, every bone he nearly broke, every drop of blood he left on the gym floor.

He had convinced himself that the more he hated Roy, the stronger he would become. But his mentor had seen through him almost immediately. The old man hadn't needed Jackson to confess the truth because it was written all over him, in the way he threw his punches, in the reckless force behind every strike, in the complete disregard he had for his own safety whenever he sparred. Jackson hadn't been learning to defend himself. He had been learning how to destroy someone, even if it meant destroying himself in the process.

His mentor had watched him in silence for weeks before finally speaking the words Jackson had never forgotten. The irony of hate is that it often becomes the chains that bind us. At the time, Jackson hadn't understood what he meant. He had thought hatred was his greatest weapon. He hadn't realised it was also becoming his prison.

Years later, those words carried a completely different meaning. Jackson could finally see what his mentor had seen all those years ago. Hatred had indeed made him stronger, but it had also made him predictable. It had narrowed his world until everything revolved around one man and one goal. Every decision, every sacrifice, every risk had been justified because hatred had convinced him that revenge was worth any price.

Looking back now, he realised how dangerously close he had come to losing himself. Hatred had a way of disguising recklessness as bravery and obsession as determination. It whispered that every sacrifice was necessary and every line was worth crossing. It convinced people that they were in control while quietly tightening its grip around their hearts until they could no longer tell the difference between justice and vengeance.

That was exactly what Jackson feared was beginning to happen to Sue. Her anger was still fresh, still raw enough to feel righteous, and that made it all the more dangerous. She wasn't thinking about consequences because pain rarely allowed people to think beyond the next step. She wanted answers. She wanted accountability. She wanted Roy to suffer for everything he had taken from their family. Jackson understood every one of those feelings because he had carried them himself for years. But he also understood something Sue didn't. Hatred never stopped asking for more. It was never satisfied. It didn't disappear after revenge had been served. It simply found another wound to feed on.

"Jackson, you need to channel that hate into something productive." His mentor's calm voice echoed in his mind as clearly as if the old man were standing beside him. "Revenge might give you a temporary sense of satisfaction, but it won't bring back what you've lost. It won't heal the wounds. It won't silence the grief that wakes you in the middle of the night. All revenge does is convince you that pain deserves company. If you let hatred become the reason you live, then the people you hate will continue controlling your life long after they've forgotten your name. Don't become a prisoner to the very person you're trying to defeat."

At the time, Jackson had dismissed those words as the philosophy of an old man who no longer understood loss. At the time, Jackson had dismissed those words with all the arrogance of a young man who believed pain made him wiser than everyone else. He remembered looking at his mentor as though the old man simply didn't understand. How was he supposed to channel hatred into something productive when every thought he had revolved around the same destination?

Every bruise he collected, every dawn he woke before the sun, every hour he spent pushing his body beyond its limits had one purpose: to make himself strong enough to destroy the Roy family. There was nothing productive about that goal, and he knew it. He wasn't trying to build anything. He wasn't trying to save anyone. He wanted to tear something down. He wanted Roy to experience even a fraction of the pain he had caused other people.

Back then, Jackson believed justice and revenge were the same thing. The distinction didn't matter because both roads seemed to lead to the same destination. His mentor had never asked him to forgive Roy. He had never suggested that Jackson abandon the people who deserved to answer for their crimes. He simply wanted Jackson to understand that hatred was a terrible leader. Justice required patience. Revenge demanded impulse. Justice relied on discipline. Revenge thrived on emotion. One allowed a man to remain himself. The other slowly transformed him into the very kind of person he claimed to despise.

His mentor wasn't trying to extinguish the fire burning inside him. He was trying to keep that fire from consuming everything around it. Now, standing where he was years later, with Sue unknowingly walking the same path he had once chosen, he realised his mentor had been trying to protect him from becoming someone he would no longer recognise. And if Jackson had to stand between Sue and that same fate, even if she hated him for it, then that was exactly what he was going to do. Some burdens belonged on the shoulders of an older brother, whether his sister agreed with it or not.

Even so, Jackson had made himself a promise many years ago, and it remained one of the few promises he had never broken. He had sworn that nothing, not fear, not exhaustion, not failure, and certainly not death, would stop him from seeing this mission through to its end. There had been countless moments over the years when he had questioned himself, moments when the training became unbearable, when his body refused to move another inch, when the loneliness threatened to crush him beneath its weight, but every single time he had forced himself back onto his feet because he refused to quit.

Somewhere along the way, that promise had become less about revenge and more about purpose. It was the thread that had held his life together for years. Without it, he wasn't entirely sure who he was anymore. The frightening part was that even now, after everything he had learned, after all the wisdom his mentor had tried to instil in him, one thought still remained buried deep inside his heart, stubbornly refusing to die.

If fate decided that he wasn't going to survive this battle, then so be it, but not his sister. Death had never frightened him nearly as much as failure had. He could accept dying. What he couldn't accept was leaving this world knowing Roy had won. If his story was destined to end, then he wanted it to end only after he had completed what he had started. Perhaps that wasn't healthy. Perhaps it wasn't even noble. But it was honest. It was the one truth he had never managed to escape.

That was precisely why Sue terrified him. His sister had many traits, those being her kindness, her compassion, her refusal to abandon people in need, but she also had the one trait that made Jackson lose sleep at night. She was impossibly stubborn. Once Sue believed something was right, convincing her otherwise was like trying to convince the tide not to return to the shore.

She listened politely. She considered your opinion. Then she marched forward exactly as she had intended from the beginning. It had driven Jackson crazy when they were younger. He could still remember countless arguments over scraped knees, broken bicycles, climbing trees that were far too tall, or sneaking out of the house to explore places their foster mother had specifically forbidden.

Somehow, despite all her stubbornness, he had always found a way to talk her down in the end. Sometimes he bribed her with sweets. Sometimes he made her laugh until she forgot what she was angry about. Other times he simply reminded her that he was her older brother and she reluctantly gave in, not because she agreed with him, but because she trusted him. Jackson desperately hoped that trust still existed. He needed it now more than ever. Because unlike those childhood disagreements, this wasn't about scraped knees or broken bicycles. This time the consequences weren't temporary. This time one wrong decision could leave an empty chair at the dinner table forever, and Jackson refused to let that happen.

The truth was painfully simple. His revenge would become utterly meaningless the moment it endangered the person he had spent his entire life trying to protect. What satisfaction could possibly come from bringing Roy to justice if Sue and/or Ethan paid the price for it? There wasn't a victory in the world that would make that sacrifice acceptable.

From the very beginning, Jackson had intended to carry this burden alone. That had always been the plan. He would investigate. He would train. He would confront the danger. He would absorb whatever consequences followed. Sue (and now Ethan as well) was supposed to remain completely outside of it, untouched by the darkness that had consumed so much of his own life. They were supposed to continue living ordinary lives while he quietly fought a battle they would never have to know existed.

Somewhere along the way, that plan had unravelled. Sue had started asking questions. Ethan had unknowingly found himself caught in situations no child should ever experience. Little by little, the line Jackson had drawn between his mission and his family had disappeared until he could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. That terrified him more than Roy ever could. He could fight an enemy. He had spent years preparing for that. But he had no idea how to fight the possibility of losing the people he loved because of choices he had made.

"In your pursuit of revenge, always make sure that no innocent people are hurt in the process. You don't want to carry that guilt for the rest of your life. You're still too young for a burden like that, and whether you believe it or not, there's still a future waiting for you beyond all of this. I know I'm never going to change your mind about seeking revenge, Jackson. I've accepted that much. But if I can't stop you from walking this road, then let me at least teach you how to walk it without losing yourself. Because despite everything you've convinced yourself of, you're a good man. You have a good heart. I'd like very much for you to still have it when this is all over."

Those words echoed through Jackson's mind long after he closed his eyes that night. They drifted through his thoughts with the familiarity of an old prayer, steady and reassuring, refusing to be forgotten no matter how much time passed. His mentor had always possessed that rare ability to speak quietly while leaving behind words that seemed louder with every passing year. There had been days during training when Jackson wanted to quit, days when grief threatened to suffocate him, days when hatred burned so fiercely that he barely recognised himself in the mirror.

Somehow, his mentor had always known exactly what to say. Not because he had all the answers, but because he had already lived long enough to understand the questions. Looking back now, Jackson realised that the old man had done far more than teach him how to fight. He had taught him how to endure. How to think before acting. How to carry pain without allowing it to define him. Most importantly, he had shown Jackson something that no amount of blood could ever determine: that family wasn't always found in the people who shared your name.

Sometimes family was the person who stayed when they had every reason to walk away. The person who believed in you when you no longer believed in yourself. The person who corrected you, challenged you, and loved you enough to tell you the truth, even when it was the last thing you wanted to hear. Jackson had lost his parents, but somewhere along that difficult journey, he had unknowingly gained a father. And although his mentor would probably laugh if Jackson ever said those words out loud, they were no less true because they remained unspoken.

_________________

Jackson woke the following morning feeling more exhausted than rested, his body heavy from too few hours of sleep and his mind refusing to grant him even a moment of peace. He had spent most of the night lying awake in the darkness of his hotel room, staring at the ceiling as one impossible thought chased another through his head. Every time he convinced himself he had finally found the right approach, another flaw would reveal itself until he was forced to start all over again.

How was he supposed to make Sue understand that he wasn't trying to control her life? How could he possibly convince her that every decision he made, every argument they had, every time he raised his voice or stood in her way, came from love rather than a desire to dictate her choices? The more he thought about it, the more impossible the task became. Sue had never responded well to being told what she could or couldn't do. She hadn't changed much since childhood in that regard. The only difference now was that the consequences of her stubbornness were infinitely greater.

Back then, the worst outcome had been a broken arm from climbing a tree that was too tall or a lecture from their foster mother after sneaking out of the house. Now, the person standing at the other end of her determination was Roy, a man who had built an empire on fear, manipulation and the careful elimination of anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. Jackson couldn't afford to underestimate that kind of enemy, and more importantly, he couldn't afford to let Sue underestimate him either.

Time was slipping through his fingers faster than he liked, and while protecting his sister had become his immediate priority, it wasn't the only responsibility weighing on his shoulders. Every hour he spent trying to change Sue's mind was another hour Roy continued living his life uninterrupted. Jackson needed a plan, and he needed one quickly, because standing still had never defeated anyone.

When he had boarded that flight home from Saudi Arabia, his future had seemed remarkably simple. Difficult, certainly, but simple. There had been only one objective waiting for him on American soil, one purpose that had consumed years of relentless preparation. He had returned for Roy and his family. Everything else had been secondary. Every lesson his mentor had drilled into him, every contact he had cultivated overseas, every skill he had painstakingly acquired had been intended for a single destination.

He had never imagined there would be room in that carefully constructed plan for anything else, least of all family. In his mind, Sue had long since become part of a completely different life. She was supposed to be studying at a university in Singapore, chasing her own dreams thousands of miles away from the United States of America, untouched by the darkness that had shaped his own existence. He had taken comfort in believing she was safe, even if that safety came at the cost of distance. The thought of seeing her again had been little more than a pleasant fantasy he rarely allowed himself to entertain. He certainly hadn't imagined returning home only to discover that not only was Sue still here, but she had unknowingly begun walking the very road he had spent years trying to keep her away from.

Everything he had believed about his mission had changed the moment he walked back into his sister's life. Before that, there had never been room for hesitation. If his investigation went wrong, then it would be his mistake to carry. If Roy discovered what he was doing, then Jackson alone would bear the consequences. He had accepted that possibility years ago. In many ways, it had made things easier. A man willing to sacrifice only himself could afford to take risks that would be unacceptable if other lives were involved.

But life had quietly rewritten his plans without asking his permission. Now there wasn't only Sue to think about. There was Ethan too. Sweet, curious little Ethan, whose biggest concerns revolved around dinosaurs, school projects and whether mashed potatoes deserved the centre of the dinner plate. The boy had absolutely no understanding of the bloodstained history connecting Jackson, him and Sue to the Roy family, and Jackson intended to preserve that innocence for as long as humanly possible. Ethan deserved to grow up believing the world was a place where problems could be solved with honesty and kindness. He deserved scraped knees instead of nightmares, bedtime stories instead of whispered conversations about dangerous men. Jackson refused to allow the Roys to steal that childhood the way he had stolen so many other things.

"I can't let Sue into this," Jackson murmured to his own reflection as he leaned over the bathroom sink, turning the tap until icy water rushed into the basin. He cupped his hands beneath the stream before splashing the freezing water across his face, welcoming the sharp sting that accompanied the sudden cold. Droplets rolled down his cheeks and disappeared into the sink while he remained there, gripping the porcelain with both hands as he stared into the mirror. The man looking back at him appeared older than his years, his eyes shadowed by fatigue and the constant burden of responsibilities that had accumulated one after another until they threatened to crush him beneath their weight.

"If anything happens to Sue..." He paused, unable to finish the sentence aloud. Even imagining it was enough to tighten his chest. "...or Ethan..." His voice became almost a whisper. "...I'd never forgive myself." It wasn't merely an expression. Jackson knew himself well enough to understand that guilt would become a life sentence. He could survive physical pain. He could survive failure. He wasn't certain he could survive knowing his own choices had placed his family in harm's way. That responsibility had settled across his shoulders long before he was ready to carry it, but it belonged to him nonetheless.

The next hour was spent not rushing, but thinking. Jackson had learned years ago that impatience was often the greatest enemy of good judgment. He brewed himself a cup of coffee that grew cold long before he remembered to drink it, sat by the hotel window overlooking the busy streets below, and began mentally arranging every possible course of action available to him.

Convincing Sue to abandon her pursuit of Roy wasn't going to happen through orders or arguments. If anything, those approaches would only strengthen her resolve. He needed something else. A distraction. A different objective. Something important enough to occupy her attention while he quietly continued his own investigation without her involvement. But what? Sue was intelligent enough to recognise false leads, stubborn enough to ignore gentle persuasion, and independent enough to resent anyone attempting to manipulate her. Jackson found himself trapped in a problem without an obvious solution, and for a man who prided himself on solving problems, that frustrated him more than he cared to admit.

Eventually, he accepted that sitting in his hotel room wasn't going to produce answers. He still had work to do, and unlike his uncertainty surrounding Sue, that work at least offered him something tangible to pursue. He had returned to America for a reason, and every passing day without progress felt like a wasted opportunity. Roy had spent decades constructing an empire that appeared untouchable from the outside. Jackson intended to dismantle that illusion piece by piece, but before he could expose a man like Roy, he needed to understand every corner of the world he inhabited. Every company. Every business associate. Every family member. Every habit. Every weakness. Information had always been Jackson's greatest weapon, and there was still far too much about the Roy family that remained hidden beneath carefully maintained appearances.

His wardrobe choices had become almost instinctive after years of surveillance work. Nothing expensive enough to attract attention. Nothing memorable enough for witnesses to describe later. Neutral colours. Comfortable shoes. Clothes that allowed him to disappear into a crowd rather than stand apart from it. Within minutes, he was dressed in a charcoal-grey shirt beneath a lightweight black jacket, faded jeans and well-worn trainers that had seen more cities than most passports. Satisfied with his reflection, he picked up his room key, slipped his wallet into his pocket, and left the room behind.