Chapter 12 "You might want to check this," Arson says, handing me my phone as I step out of the bathroom in the clothes we quickly threw on, hair still dripping onto my shoulders. "It's been blowing up for the past hour." I take it from him, careful not to let our fingers touch. There's still too much electricity between us, too much rawness after what just happened in the shower with Aries. My body feels hypersensitive, aware of both twins in a way that should be unsettling but somehow isn't. I don't want to ignite either one unexpectedly. Part of me feels like I'm juggling a ticking time bomb...and the other part of me likes the power. The screen lights up with notifications-seventeen missed calls and twenty-three text messages, all from the same contact: Mother. "Shit," I mutter, scrolling through the increasingly frantic texts. The last one, sent just ten minutes ago, is a simple but ominous: WHERE ARE YOU??? Three question marks. Mother never uses multiple punctuation marks. She considers it vulgar, a sign of emotional incontinence. The fact that she's broken her own rule speaks volumes about her state of mind. "What does she want?" Aries asks, stepping up behind me. His hair is damp and tousled, his jeans so very low on his hips. The evidence of his captivity is stark in the harsh warehouse light-ribs too visible, muscles less defined than they once were, but still undeniably powerful. Still unmistakably him. "The usual but at like level ten," I explain, holding up the phone. "She's been trying to reach me." "Can we get away from her until we figure all of this out?" Arson suggests, his voice casual but his eyes watchful. "She's just trying to reel you back in." I don't point out that he had to interrupt my moment with Aries, wanting to me to contact her, only now to suggest I ignore her. We don't have time for more squabbles. I shake my head, moving toward the bedroom to find fresh clothes now. "It's not that simple. If I don't respond, she'll escalate. Trust me, you don't want to see what that looks like." They follow me around the bedroom, maintaining a careful distance from each other. The truce between them feels tenuous, fragile-a gossamer thread that could snap with one wrong word or careless gesture. I rummage through the duffel bag of clothes someone brought for me, pulling out clean underwear, jeans, and a soft gray sweater. I strip out of the clothes I was wearing earlier and quickly tug on fresh underwear. Both men catalog my body as I move in a way that's so intense it's almost unsettling. When I'm fully dressed, Aries turns away to find his own fresh clothing. Arson continues to stare, like he's waiting for a chance to remove every stitch I just layered on. I swallow the urge to let him. I run my fingers through my damp hair, trying to impose some order on the tangled strands. My reflection in the small mirror above a beat-up dresser shows flushed cheeks, bright eyes, swollen lips-all evidence of the past hour's activities. I look alive in a way I haven't in years. Maybe ever. "What's the plan?" Aries asks, already pulling on his own clothes with efficient movements. "Regarding your mother." I sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed as the reality of my situation crashes back over me. The bubble of desire and connection we'd created in the shower bursts, leaving me facing the cold facts of our predicament once more. "I have to call her," I say, staring down at the phone in my hand. "If I don't, she'll send people looking for me. And they'll find me, find us. She's relentless that way." "Let her try," Arson says with quiet menace, leaning against the wall with deceptive casualness. "I've hidden from the Hayes family for years. I know how to disappear." "It's not just about hiding," I explain, looking up at him. "It's about buying time. We need to figure out what those men want with Aries, why they're funding your revenge. If my mother creates a manhunt, we'll be too busy running to find answers." Aries nods, buttoning his shirt with precise movements. "She's right. We need breathing room. A distraction." "Exactly," I agree, relieved that at least one of them understands. "Let me handle my mother. I've been managing her my whole life." With that, I stand and move toward the door. "I need coffee for this conversation." 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. "What time?" I ask, knowing I'm beaten, at least in this round. "Four o'clock," she says, triumph evident in her tone. "Don't be late. And Lilian? I expect a full explanation when you arrive." The line goes dead before I can respond. I set the phone down carefully, as if it might explode if handled too roughly. "Well?" Aries prompts when I remain silent. "She wants me to come home today," I say, still staring at the phone. "The family doctor is coming to check me over. Apparently, it's a medical emergency." "You're not going," Arson states flatly, no room for discussion in his tone. "I have to," I counter, finally looking up at him. "If I don't show up, she'll call in the cavalry. Private investigators, police, whatever it takes. She'll find me, and by extension, both of you." "Let her try," he scoffs, but there's uncertainty beneath the bravado. He knows as well as I do that Patricia Hayes doesn't make empty threats or halfhearted attempts. When she wants something found, it gets found. "It's not just that," I continue, wrapping my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the morning warmth. "The doctor she mentioned-Dr. Winters-he's been overseeing my 'condition' for years. Prescribing medications I'm not sure I need, running tests with results I never see." "The same doctor who diagnosed your heart condition in the first place?" Aries asks, his hand finally settling on my shoulder, a warm weight that steadies me. I nod, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat. "The same one who's been working with the Hayes Enterprises." The implications hang heavy in the air between us. If my suspicions are correct, if the files I found in the attic are to be believed, then my entire medical history could be fabricated. My heart condition exaggerated or even entirely invented as some kind of control mechanism. Or worse-as some kind of experiment. "What time did she say?" Aries asks, his voice taking on that measured quality that means he's already forming a plan. "Four o'clock," I reply. He nods, exchanging a look with Arson that contains more communication than they've managed in weeks of captivity and confrontation. "That gives us time to prepare," he says. "To figure out what they might be planning and how to counter it." "You're not seriously considering letting her go?" Arson demands, leaning forward across the table. "I'm considering all options," Aries responds, surprisingly calm in the face of his twin's intensity. "Including using this as an opportunity to gather information. To find out what they know and what they're planning." "It's too dangerous," Arson insists, looking at me now, genuine concern replacing his usual calculated assessment. "You've seen what these people are capable of. What they've done to both of us." The fear rises in my chest, sudden and overwhelming, not just for myself, but for what might happen if I'm forced back into the Hayes fold. If they decide I know too much, have seen too much. If they decide to "treat" my condition more aggressively. "I'm scared," I admit, the words barely audible even to my own ears. It's a confession I rarely make, having been trained to hide vulnerability and project the strength expected of a Hayes woman. But here, with these two men who've seen me at my most raw, my most exposed, there seems little point in pretense. To my surprise, it's Arson who moves first, kneeling beside my chair so his eyes are level with mine. "They won't touch you," he says, voice soft but vibrating with conviction. "I won't let them." "Neither will I," Aries adds, his hand still on my shoulder, grip tightening slightly. "Whatever happens, whatever they're planning-you won't face it alone." It's a moment of perfect accord between them, the first I've witnessed that isn't built on mutual hatred or reluctant necessity. For this brief instant, they are united in purpose, in protection. In caring for me. The realization brings unexpected tears to my eyes, which I blink back hurriedly. "Thank you," I whisper, looking between them. "Both of you." Arson reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face with uncharacteristic gentleness. "We'll figure this out. Together." Aries nods, the movement barely perceptible. "A united front," he agrees, though the words seem to cost him something to say. The moment stretches, fragile and precious in its unlikelihood. Three broken people, bound by secrets and desires and dangers, finding common ground in the face of a shared enemy. It won't last-can't last, given the history between them, the betrayals are both fresh and ancient. But for now, in this warehouse kitchen, it feels like enough. Like hope. "Okay," I say, straightening in my chair, drawing strength from their twin gazes. "Let's make a plan." I reach for a napkin and a pen left on the table, sketching out a rough layout of the Hayes mansion from memory. "The house will be the easiest part-I know every inch of it, including all the secret passages Richard had built in during the renovation." "Secret passages?" Aries looks surprised. "I didn't know about those." "That was the point," I explain, marking several spots on my crude map. "Richard keeps a lot of secrets, even from family. Especially from the family." "Access points?" Arson asks, slipping effortlessly into strategic mode. "Security measures?" "Three main entrances, all with biometric locks keyed to family members," I say, indicating them on the drawing. "But there's a service entrance at the back of the property that only uses a keypad. Code changes weekly." "Cameras changed or still the same?" Aries prompts. "The same, but on a closed system now. If we could get to the control room in the basement, we could loop the feed." I tap my pen against the table, thinking. "The real problem won't be getting in-it's getting out if things go south." "You won't be going in alone," Arson states, not a suggestion but a fact. "I'll be with you." "As who?" I ask, frowning slightly. "You can't exactly walk in as yourself." "As Aries," he says simply. "I've been playing the role for months. I know all the right notes to hit." The real Aries stiffens beside me, his jaw clenching visibly. "You want to keep pretending to be me? In front of her mother?" "Do you have a better idea?" Arson counters. "You can't go in looking like you do now. They'd immediately know something was wrong." "He's right," I say gently, placing a hand on Aries's arm. "She would take one look at you and know something was wrong. You've lost weight, you're pale, you're⁠-" "A shadow of my former self," Aries finishes bitterly. "I get it." "It's just strategy," Arson says, his tone lacking its usual edge. "We need to maintain the illusion a little longer. Just until we figure out what they're planning." Aries holds his twin's gaze for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them. Then he nods once, a sharp downward jerk of his chin. "Fine. But you follow Lilian's lead. No improvising, no heroics, no confrontations." "Agreed," Arson says, the easy acquiescence surprising me. "In and out. Information gathering only." "And if something goes wrong?" I ask, the knot of anxiety in my stomach tightening. "If they try to keep me there?" "That won't happen," Aries says with absolute certainty. "I'll be nearby, monitoring. At the first sign of trouble, I'll extract both of you." "How?" I press. "You can't exactly walk in the front door." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "There are ways into that house that even Richard doesn't know about. Benefits of a misspent youth exploring every inch of the property." The hint of the old Aries-the one who used to sneak me contraband candy when my diet was restricted, who found ways around every rule our parents set-makes something in my chest loosen slightly. "Okay then," I say, meeting their identical gazes with newfound determination. "Let's plan this properly." And as we bend our heads together over the table, three conspirators united against a common enemy, I feel stronger than I have in years. Not because I'm no longer afraid-I am, terrified in fact-but because for once in my life, I'm not facing that fear alone. I have them. Both of them. Different as night and day despite their identical faces, bound together only by their shared desire to protect me. For now, that's enough. More than enough. It's everything.