Jerome.
The monster in Lana's heart.
He stalked closer to her hiding place, sparks crawling across his body like living serpents, until he suddenly froze. His head jerked up. He had heard something—someone.
A figure emerged from the shadows.
"Who's there?" Jerome snapped, his voice sharp with panic.
His eyes darted. He hadn't even sensed the other's arrival. That alone made him uneasy.
"Is that… you?"
When the figure stepped into the dim light, Jerome's bravado cracked. For the first time since the dance, fear flickered in his eyes. He stumbled a step back.
"It seems you're proud of your little masterpiece," the dark figure said, his tone cold and cutting.
"You… I don't know what you're talking about!" Jerome stammered. His arrogance evaporated, leaving only desperation.
Hidden behind the statue, Lana pressed a trembling hand to her lips. Shock coursed through her veins. The same boy who had slaughtered his classmates was now backing away in fear.
Who could terrify him like that?
The figure stepped into view, and Lana's heart nearly stopped.
Adrian Kent. Clark's brother.
Why was he here? And why did Jerome, the boy wrapped in lightning, cower at the sight of him?
Countless questions hammered through her mind, colliding with a single thought—Adrian was even more dangerous than Jerome.
"You know exactly what I mean," Adrian said smoothly. "You've turned Smallville High's Homecoming into a slaughterhouse. Madness and genius, separated by nothing more than a razor-thin line."
His eyes burned into Jerome's, dissecting him without mercy.
Jerome's fear twisted into rage. His irises blazed silver, electricity crawling across his skin.
"So now you want to stop me?!" he bellowed. "When they hung me on that cross and mocked me, where were you? When they stripped me, painted me, humiliated me, where were you? And now, you want to play hero?"
The storm around him exploded, lightning cracking in the air. "You hypocrite!"
In a burst of motion, Jerome appeared before Adrian, lightning striking like a serpent. The aura around him was suffocating—Lana had seen it burn Whitney alive, had seen it char Fleck to ash.
She clutched her mouth, certain Adrian would be torn apart.
Bang!
The punch landed—not on Adrian, but against his palm.
Adrian caught the blow effortlessly. The lightning cascaded into him, sparking across his body, and fizzled out as though striking a mountain of steel. He didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
Lana's eyes widened in disbelief.
Adrian wasn't just unhurt. He looked amused.
"What… are you?" she whispered, trembling.
Adrian's free hand shot out and clamped around Jerome's throat. With a single twist, bones snapped like brittle twigs.
The lightning died.
Jerome's body crumpled, lifeless, the terror in his eyes forever frozen.
Adrian tossed him to the ground like discarded trash. For a moment, he considered whether Jerome might have been useful—after all, someone had figured out how meteor rocks could mutate human physiology into power. But the boy was weak, stupid, a liability.
There was no point in keeping him alive.
Adrian's gaze flicked toward the statue. Lana shrank back, trying not to breathe. His eyes lingered on her for only a second before he turned away. She wasn't worth his time. She was Clark's concern, not his.
With a step, Adrian vanished into the shadows.
---
Inside the ruined dance hall, Clark staggered in. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the devastation.
Sprinklers hissed overhead, water raining down on fire-scorched walls and broken lights. Crimson-stained streams ran across the tiles, diluting into pools that spread like veins.
Bodies lay scattered across the floor. Members of the football team—Tommy, Ross, even Whitney—groaned weakly, some motionless, others writhing in pain.
Clark's knees buckled. He dropped to the soaked ground, water and tears mixing on his face.
"I could have stopped this," he whispered hoarsely. His fists slammed against the floor, trembling. "This is my fault."
Every ounce of guilt pressed down on him, crushing his chest. His failure screamed louder than the crackling lights above.
"Clark."
The voice slid into his ears, calm, familiar, cold.
Clark lifted his head. Through the veil of water, Adrian stood before him, untouched by the carnage. His expression was unreadable.
"You knew," Clark rasped, realization dawning on him. "You knew it was Jerome. You knew what he would do."
Adrian didn't deny it.
"You could have stopped this," Clark shouted, pain twisting into rage. "Why didn't you?!"
Adrian's face remained stone. "Because you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"What?"
"You believe in power, Clark," Adrian said evenly, "more than you believe in people. You crave it. You hide behind it. And one day, it will betray you. Strength without control, without wisdom, will rot you from the inside."
His eyes gleamed, sharp and merciless. "Prejudice. Stubbornness. Tunnel vision. Those are your flaws. If you want to be more than this, you have to understand the cost of failure."
Clark glared at him, fury burning through his grief. "So you're blameless? You stand there and tell me you're innocent?"
Adrian leaned in, his voice a whisper of thunder. "We are not the same. You are light. I am shadow. You cling to redemption. I thrive in chaos. Don't measure me by your ideals, Clark. I was never meant to be a savior."
For a long, heavy moment, they stared at each other, brothers divided by more than blood.
Then Adrian's gaze shifted. In the distance, sirens wailed. Ambulances cut through the night, lights flashing as they neared the school.
Without another word, Adrian turned and walked away, his silhouette swallowed by the storm.
Clark remained kneeling on the flooded floor, his tears mingling with the spray, motionless.
Alone.
---