Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
They follow me out to the makeshift kitchen, where someone—Arson, probably—has already started a pot brewing. The smell of it is comforting, a touch of normalcy in our decidedly abnormal situation.
Light filters through the dusty warehouse windows, casting long shadows across the space. I sit at the small table, nursing a cup of coffee, trying to make sense of my impossible situation. Two identical men, both carrying pieces of my heart for different reasons. Both dangerous in their own ways. Both now bound by an arrangement that should feel tawdry but somehow doesn’t.
The phone on the table before me seems to mock my indecision. I’ve been staring at it for twenty minutes, rehearsing what to say, how to sound normal when nothing about my life is normal anymore.
“Just call her,” Aries says from where he leans against the counter, his voice gentle but firm. “The longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.”
“It’s not that simple,” I reply, wrapping both hands around my mug like it might anchor me to reality. “She’ll know something’s wrong. She always does.”
Aries moves closer, his movements more fluid today, less constrained by anger and suspicion. The release of the shower seems to have eased something in him, smoothed some of the jagged edges captivity left behind.
“You don’t have to tell her anything,” he says, pouring himself coffee from the pot on the counter. “Just check in. Buy us some time.”
“Time for what?” Arson asks, eyeing his twin with barely concealed suspicion. Where Aries moves with renewed ease this morning, Arson seems coiled tighter than ever, watching us both with narrowed eyes.
The tension between them has shifted since last night—not gone, never that, but altered into something more complex than simple hatred. Something that contains acknowledgment, if not acceptance.
“Time to figure out our next move,” I say, before they can start circling each other again. “We still don’t know what those men want with Aries, or why they’re funding your revenge, Arson.”
“We know they want Richard’s head,” Arson reminds me, taking a seat at the table across from me. “That part’s clear enough.”
“But why?” I press, leaning forward. “What’s their stake in all this? What do they gain from destroying the Hayes empire?”
Neither twin has an answer for that, the silence stretching uncomfortably between us. I sigh and pick up the phone, knowing I can’t delay the inevitable any longer.
“Just…be quiet while I do this,” I tell them both. “Let me handle my mother.”
They nod in unison, a synchronized movement that would be comical under different circumstances. I take a deep breath and hit the button on my mother’s contact.
She answers on the second ring, her voice sharp with anxiety. “Lilian? Is that you?”
“Yes, Mom,” I say, working to keep my tone light and casual. “It’s me.”
“Where have you been?” The relief in her voice quickly gives way to controlled anger. “I’ve been calling and texting for days. Your professors called because you’ve missed classes. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
The guilt hits harder than expected. For all our complicated history, for all the lies and manipulation, she is still my mother. Still the woman who held me through countless doctor’s appointments, who sat by my hospital bed, who built her life around my supposed fragility.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and mean it. “My phone died, and I’ve been caught up in a research project. Lost track of time.”
“Lost track of—” She cuts herself off, and I can practically see her counting to ten the way she does when trying to maintain composure. “Lilian, that is completely unacceptable. You know the rules. You know why we have protocols in place.”
The protocols. The check-ins. The constant monitoring that has defined my existence since childhood. All supposedly for my protection and health. All built on a foundation of lies I’m only beginning to understand.
“I know,” I say, falling back into old patterns despite myself. “I should have called. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it this time.” Her voice hardens, taking on the tone that brooks no argument. “I want you to come home. Today. Dr. Winters is coming by this afternoon to check you over.”
My blood runs cold at the mention of the family doctor—the man who’s overseen my “condition” for years, who administers my medications, who keeps meticulous records that I now suspect contain more fiction than fact.
“I can’t today,” I say, scrambling for an excuse. “I have a…presentation. For Professor Hendricks’s class.”
“I’ve already spoken with your professors.” The smug certainty in her voice makes my stomach drop. “They’ve been informed of your medical emergency and have granted extensions on all assignments.”
Of course she has. Mother has always been thorough in her control, always ten steps ahead of any attempted rebellion.
Across the table, Arson’s expression darkens, clearly reading the distress on my face. Aries moves closer, his hand coming to rest on the back of my chair—not quite touching me, but close enough that I can feel his presence like a physical weight.