Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
What she couldn’t know was how right she was.
How precisely her words landed. How much restraint it took to push her away, to watch her expression fill with hurt as I coldly suggested therapy for her inappropriate fixation.
I knew I had made the right decision to keep her at arm’s length, to protect her from becoming a pawn in the Hayes family games. My father had already gotten accustomed to using the slightest rare attachment against me too many times.
I wouldn’t give him Lilian as another weapon. Wouldn’t let her become collateral damage in the toxic game of control that defined our family. In turn, I buried my feelings for her beneath a carefully constructed distance. Slowly, I became the cold, unattainable stepbrother she both yearned for and resented.
It hurt like hell, but I knew it would hurt far less than watching her get destroyed from nothing more than her proximity to me. It’s almost funny how the one thing I tried to protect her from is inevitably the one thing that will hurt her. Would I have made the same choice then if I had known this would be the outcome? To have her trapped with the monster I’ve pretended to be, while my twin watches to see which of us will draw first blood?
I’m not sure. Lilian is the only person I’ve never been selfish with. The only person I’ve ever actually wanted to protect.
The cell offers limited tactical advantages—eight by ten feet of concrete, a single cot bolted to the floor, toilet and sink in the corner. The chains restrict my movement to a seven-foot radius from the wall anchor, allowing access to most of the space but not quite reaching the door. Arson designed it that way deliberately. Always the careful strategist.
What he doesn’t know is that I’ve already compromised the chains. Three days of methodical work while pretending to sleep, metal links weakened just enough that a sudden jerk will break them. Not freedom yet, but an advantage he isn’t expecting.
My mind is reeling as I try to devise a plan to escape. Lilian’s position against the far wall puts her just at the edge of my reach—a calculation on her part that I respect. I watch her chest rise and fall with rapid breaths, fear mixed with determination. I bet her heart is beating out of her chest. Her blue eyes remain clear, assessing the space.
Not just afraid. Planning. Thinking.
The cameras cover three angles, with a blind spot near the sink—information I’ve stored for when I need it. The intercom remains active, evidenced by the small green light above the door. Arson will hear everything we say.
Perfect. Let him listen.
I already know what needs to happen. Arson’s jealousy, his fear of being confused with me, and his unexpected attachment to Lilian are all vulnerabilities I can exploit.
The one thing I have against me is time. I need her to lower her guard, just enough, to allow me to get close to her.
“He’ll be back, eventually,” I say, voice conversational as I lean back against the wall. “I bet he’s watching right now, finger hovering over the release button, wondering if he’s signed your death certificate or not.”
Lips pressed together, she remains silent and distrustful. Smart girl.
“I’m a little shocked at how easily you got under his skin, “ I continue, chains rattling as I adjust my position. “I haven’t seen him lose control like that since we were kids. Interesting, considering how little time you’ve spent together.”
There’s a slight shift in her posture—curiosity warring with caution.
Good. Keep her distracted.
“What did you do?” I ask, cocking my head to study her. “Besides calling him by my name, which was admittedly a tactical error of epic proportions.”
“Why do you care?” She breaks the silence, her voice steady despite her obvious fear, another reminder of the strength she hides beneath forced fragility.
I shrug, deliberately casual. “Professional curiosity. It’s not every day someone breaks through my brother’s carefully constructed walls. Especially not someone he intended to use as a weapon against me.”
“I was never a weapon.” Her response has an edge of defiance, and my heart swells when she lifts her chin.
“No? Then what were you? A convenient body? A willing participant in his revenge fantasy? The virgin sacrifice?”
Each question is designed to provoke, to distract her from the slight adjustments I’m making to my position. Each movement brings me incrementally closer to the optimal striking distance, which will inevitably bring Arson’s return.
“Stop with the bullshit. Don’t act like you know anything because you don’t.” Anger coats her words, overcoming her fear.
Perfection. Anger makes people careless. Makes them miss details they’d otherwise notice.
“I know more than you think.” I soften my voice just enough to introduce doubt. “We’re twins, remember? I know him better than anyone. I know exactly what he’s capable of, and all the terrible things that he’s done.”