Chapter 21 "She's gone," Aries says, stating the fucking obvious as he stares at the empty space where Lilian stood seconds ago. "No shit, Sherlock." I shove past him, rage clawing at my insides like it wants out-like it wants blood. My shoulder slams into his with enough force to bruise, to break, to ignite. And it does. Something feral snaps loose inside me. The need to hurt. To ruin. To finally make my perfect fucking reflection feel a fraction of what I've suffered. He whirls around and grabs my arm, fingers biting into flesh. Then spins me back so fast I hear something pop. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he growls. "This is your fault." "My fault?" A jagged laugh tears from my throat, sharp and broken like shattered glass. "Of course you'd twist this around and make me the villain." I lunge at him, the desire to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until he understands almost overpowering me. "If you weren't such a self-righteous prick-if you could've given her five fucking minutes without hovering like she was made of glass-maybe she wouldn't have run." His features twist into something that looks like disgust. "Fuck you. Like always, you deflect and refuse to admit fault. If you hadn't kidnapped me..." he snarls. We're chest to chest now, and I can feel the rage simmering in his veins, feeling the feral beast threatening to break free. "She wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't dragged her into your sick revenge fantasy⁠-" "I think you're forgetting that she came to me, not the other way around, fuckface. And she wouldn't have been so infatuated with me if she hadn't spent years obsessed with you, a man who never truly saw her for the woman she is. So don't act like I forced her into anything when I didn't. All of this is your fault. All of it. I didn't drag her into anything. If you didn't want her to fall for me, maybe you should've done something about all that pent-up need before I came along." "You didn't want her. You wanted to use her to hurt me, and that's all on you. In fact, if you hadn't let them lock me away for a crime I never committed, then there never would've been a plan in the first place." The words explode out of me, eight years of rot and rage pouring from the wound he left in me. Infection turned to fire. Fury turned to truth. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he roars. The golden-boy mask finally cracks, the sound echoing off the trees. I can't stop myself from smiling. My lips tug up at the sides the moment I catch a glimpse of the monster hidden beneath. "There he is. Welcome back, Brother," I taunt, wanting him to lose control, wanting him to feel as close to the edge as I do. "Looks like you aren't that different from me, after all." "I'm nothing like you. Nothing." He spits the words at me as if they are knife blades. "I think you're right." Confusion flickers in his eyes, and my smile becomes a full fucking grin. "You're fucking worse." "Worse? I don't think so. I wasn't selfish enough to put Lilian in danger, unlike you." "At least I'm not a murderer⁠-" "It was an accident! A fucking accident. You don't have the first clue what happened to me after they took you! You think you're the only one who suffered?" he snaps, his voice shaking. His identical hazel eyes shine with rage. "An accident? That's rich. Only you would downplay our mother's death," I spit, grinding my nose against his. "As soon as I was removed from the picture, you stepped into playing the role of the traumatized golden boy. Poor Aries living in a mansion, given opportunities that I never had. Sure, you might have suffered, but you didn't suffer like I did. I got shock therapy and isolation rooms. I got pumped full of drugs that made me want to claw my own skin off while you reaped the benefits of freedom, of privilege." I'm so caught up in my own rage, on getting the words out, that I don't notice his fist coming until it's too late. It connects with my jaw, and the strike is as hard as a fucking sledgehammer. The wet, coppery, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth in an instant as my head snaps back from the impact. Bright pain ripples across my cheek-sharp, hot, blooming outward like a lit fuse under my skin. It stuns me for a second, not because it hurts, but because it's real. Honest. Direct. Not like the clinical torture of the facility. That was sterile. Cold. Detached. This-this is pure animal rage. I stagger a few feet back and spit a mouthful of blood onto the grass, red splattering against green like a fucking war painting. My lips pull into a grin-tight, skeletal. More of a death mask than a smile. "Finally," I rasp, my tongue thick and my jaw throbbing. There's no warning of my movements. I launch at him, all teeth and fury, every second of captivity boiling to the surface. My body moves on instinct, violence baked into my bones. Our bodies collide and slam into the ground, the breath leaving our lungs in brutal unison. A tangle of matching limbs. Two sides of the same cursed coin. My fist finds his cheekbone with a sickening crunch. It echoes in my skull like music, and pain sears across my knuckles as the skin splits. I don't even care. "This is for the first night," I snarl, my voice as jagged as glass as I drive my fist into his stomach. I feel the resistance of muscle, then he gags. The choking sound he makes is beautiful. "When they strapped me down and pumped me so full of drugs I pissed myself and couldn't remember my own fucking name." He wheezes, doubling over like I knocked the soul out of him-then suddenly he lunges, headbutting me with a savage force. My vision whites out, pain detonating behind my eyes. For a heartbeat, I'm floating. Then I crash back into my skull. "Fuck you," he pants, blood streaming from his nose in thick rivulets. "Oh, I'm sorry-did Daddy cut your allowance while I was being electroshocked into screaming and begging?" He snarls and swings again, his fist connecting with my side. I grunt, and a laugh escapes me. The sound is wet, guttural, completely unhinged. "Tell me, Brother-did they rough up your conscience in therapy? Or just make you watch while they ate your guilt with a silver spoon?" "Are you really so naive to think that you're the only one who suffered? I might not have been locked in a fucking cell, but I promise you, I suffered." That question-those fucking words-slice through me like barbed wire. He dares. He fucking dares to compare his pampered, guilt-ridden conscience to my hell? The nerve of him breathing the word suffered like he earned it. Rage floods my veins, thick and hot, and I see nothing but red. He fights back harder than I expected for someone who spent months locked in my cage. We throw jabs at one another, and then his fist lands against my ribs. Something gives with a sickening crack that fills my ears, followed by a jolt of white-hot agony. I grunt, doubling over but not dropping. I didn't make it this far to wave a white flag of defeat. "You had everything!" I roar, surging forward and slamming him against a tree trunk. The crack of impact is vicious, and I hear the air whoosh out of his lungs. I pin him there, forearm grinding into his throat, watching his face begin to turn a mottled shade of purple. "The family. The name. The life that should've been OURS!" He claws at my arm, gasping, but I don't let up. "You let them take me," I snarl, fury boiling over. "You stood there and said nothing while they dragged me away like I was already dead!" I drive my knee into his gut, and he folds over with a strangled sound, but I hold him upright, refusing to give him the dignity of falling. "Your silence was the loudest fucking betrayal of all." His chest heaves, and something dark and lifeless trickles into his eyes. A look I know all too well. "I was only fourteen!!" "Me fucking too, or did you forget? Forget that we're identical in every single way, that your brain is wired the same as mine? I was a child when I was abandoned by my family-by my own fucking brother." With unexpected strength, he shoves me off him, his jaw twitching, his entire body vibrating like an animal in a cage. "I didn't abandon you! They told me you were dangerous. That you'd killed Mom. I didn't have any other way to try to save you." All I can do is shake my head. Disappointment and anger so hot it burns me to ash sears my insides. "That's the worst part, that you fucking believed them!" I'm on him, tackling him to the ground with such force the air leaves his lungs in a harsh wheeze. My fists find his face-one, two, three brutal blows that snap his head to the side. "Over your own fucking brother!" He catches my wrist on the fourth swing, twisting until something pops. Pain lances up my arm, but I barely feel it. I'm consumed with rage, with anger, with the need to make him feel as broken and abandoned as I felt in that place. "I tried to stop them!" he screams, and his voice cracks at the edges while his eyes bleed into mine, willing me to believe him. "I begged our father not to send you away!" "LIAR!" I slam my forehead into his nose, hearing it crunch beneath the impact. More blood sprays between us. "I might believe that if you had made an attempt to stop them, if you had tried to intervene, but you didn't. You didn't even try. Instead, you stood there like a coward and watched them drag me away. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when you didn't come to visit, not even once in the eight fucking years I was there. You didn't even try, didn't make a fucking effort." He bucks beneath me with sudden ferocity, flipping us over. Now he's on top, pinning my shoulders with his knees, raining down blows that make stars explode behind my eyes. The fucked-up part is I'd rather feel pain, rather endure this, than anything else I have in the past. "You aren't the only one who suffered. As if I ever had a choice?" Each word is punctuated with another punch. "Richard-beat-the truth-into me!" I catch his fist mid-swing, using his momentum to throw him sideways. We roll again, grappling in the dirt like animals, all pretense of humanity stripped away. His teeth find my shoulder, savage and primal. I howl, grabbing a fistful of his hair, smashing his head against the ground. "He made me forget you!" Aries screams, blood and spittle flying from his lips. "Do you understand? Anytime I asked a question or tried to find out any little bit of information, he would beat me. At some point, he started beating me just to beat me, until I couldn't remember what happened. Until I started believing what he told me about you, that you were dangerous, that you were the one who killed our mother, that you were the problem, and eventually, that you were dead!" The rubber band securing all my rage, all my revenge snaps, and they drain out of me like water escaping an overflowing dam. "I didn't die," I rasp, driving my elbow into his sternum. "I was living in hell while you played football and fucked cheerleaders!" He laughs, the sound manic and broken. "Of course that's what you think I was doing. Living a life of luxury, and I guess from the outside looking in, it appears that way. But my life was anything but a luxury. Richard controlled every second of every day. One toe out of line and it was belts, fists, or whatever he had handy to hit me with. I spent years walking on eggshells, of never being good enough, of jumping at shadows!" We separate momentarily, circling each other like wolves. Blood drips from a dozen wounds between us-split lips, broken noses, gashes where knuckles have met cheekbones. In the moonlight, we must look like ghosts, identical specters haunting each other's lives. "I swear to you, I tried." His voice breaks on the words, and he lurches forward, his hand fisted in my shirt. "The first week after they took you. I told them the truth. I told them it was my fault." Something in his tone makes me hesitate, checking the fist pulled back for another strike. "Richard beat me until I couldn't stand." The dam in him has broken, the words flowing out of his mouth like a rapid river. "Again and again. For weeks. I had no choice but to believe his version of things. He conditioned me." "I don't fucking believe you," I whisper, but my voice cracks, giving away my emotions. "Then don't, but I was there, Arson. I was fucking there when he said you died." Aries's grip on my shirt tightens. "There when they said they'd tried to help you, but you were too far gone. That you'd killed yourself at the facility. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I believed him. I'm sorry that for years I thought you were dead when you were really alive, living in that place, suffering. If I had known, if I'd had any idea, I would've done more." I roll off him, sprawling on my back in the grass. The night sky spins above me, stars blurring as something hot and unfamiliar burns behind my eyes. Is it possible? That none of this was really his fault? If so, that makes everything I've done for nothing. It opens the door for an emotion I've refused to allow myself to feel for anyone but Lilian. There's no room for guilt when it comes to my brother, but now I wonder if I spent so much time blaming him when I should've been blaming someone else all along. Richard. "They told me you knew exactly where I was," I say to the darkness. "That you visited the facility and laughed about how pathetic I was." "If I had been given the chance to visit, I would've done whatever I could to get you out of there." His voice is a broken thing beside me. "I didn't even know the place existed until you locked me in that facsimile of it. I never said it out loud or thought about it too much for fear that Richard would find out some way, but I always...hoped maybe you were out there somewhere." We lie side by side, blood cooling on our skin, breath coming in harsh gasps. Identical bodies, identical faces, lives split by a single moment of cowardice and calculation. "Fuck," he whispers, the single syllable weighted with horror. "All this time, all these years, we were pitted against each other. Fed lies, conditioned and manipulated for others' control." "Yeah." I laugh, the sound hollow. His voice cracks. "And it worked. They made us hate each other, made us enemies." "There was never going to be enough room for both of us in the Hayes world." "That's not true," Aries whispers. "We can't change the past. That's water under the bridge, but on my fucking life, I want you to know that I thought you were dead." "Some days, I wished I was." The confession slips out before I can stop it, torn from some dark place I've kept buried. "Early on. Before I learned how to survive. How to hate." He turns his head to look at me, his face-my face-a bloody ruin in the moonlight. "I wasn't lying when I said I would have come for you if I'd known. I would have burned that fucking place to the ground." I want to reject his claim, to call him a liar again, to cling to the hatred that's defined me for so long, but I know better now. The weight on my chest is a little lighter. "They made me believe you were a monster," he continues, words spilling out like infected pus from a lanced wound. "That you'd always been unstable and violent. They showed me records going back to when we were toddlers. Photos of injuries you supposedly caused." "Of course. Like I said, not enough room for both of us. He needed one golden child and one scapegoat. Luckily, you drew the winning ticket." My laugh tastes like blood and broken teeth. "I didn't win shit." He sits up suddenly, wincing as something in his chest makes an audible grinding sound. "I wouldn't call eight years of manipulation and control winning? Of never knowing who I really was? Of being molded into his perfect little puppet? None of it was fun or enjoyable." "At least you weren't being electroshocked in a fucking basement," I counter, but the anger has burned away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. There's no point in comparing each other's torment and trauma. We both suffered in different ways. "No. Just beaten until I couldn't stand whenever I showed a hint of independence." He runs a shaking hand through his bloodied hair, grimacing as his fingers catch on a matted clump. "Different methods, same goal. Break us down and remake us into the image he wanted." We remain silent for a short time, but there are no words needed, when the truth is practically screaming in the air between us. Neither of us won. Both of us lost-our childhood, our identity, our brotherhood. Everything that mattered. "The cell where I kept you," I eventually speak, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. "It wasn't just revenge. It was...familiar. Safe, in a twisted way. The only home I knew for years." "It wasn't a rescue," he replies, understanding dawning in his battered features. "Just another prison." "Different jailer, same cage." I push myself into a sitting position, every muscle screaming in protest. Blood drips from numerous wounds, seeping into my T-shirt and painting my skin red. I know tomorrow the pain I feel will be much different, but today it doesn't feel like pain. It feels like freedom. "I'm not sorry I kidnapped you or took over your life. What I am sorry for is the person I became because of them." He nods slowly, accepting the non-apology for what it is. "And I'm sorry I didn't remember sooner. That I believed their lies." It's not forgiveness-not yet. Maybe it never will be. I don't know. But it's something. An acknowledgment of shared victimhood, of manipulation that ran deeper and longer than either of us realized. Slowly, he climbs to his feet, wincing at what must be a spectacular collection of bruises. His face is a mess-eye swollen shut, lip split in two places, blood matting his hair where I slammed his head into the ground. No doubt I look just as bad. I can feel it. The swelling, the bruises forming beneath my skin. Twin disasters. "We should probably go find Lilian." He extends his hand to me. I stare at it for a moment, this unexpected olive branch. Before I can think of a reason not to take it, I do. I let him help me to my feet. Pain ripples through my body, every cell screaming in protest with the movement. Yeah, my ribs are definitely broken, not just bruised. My left eye is swollen almost completely shut, and something's definitely wrong with my shoulder. Worth it. All of it is worth it for this moment of terrible clarity. "Let's go find our girl," I say, testing the word our on my tongue. It tastes strange but not entirely wrong. "We can't erase the past. But we can try to move forward." "As it is, she's going to be pissed." He spits blood out onto the grass. "Understatement of the year." I test my weight on my right leg, finding it functional despite the throbbing pain. "She might just finish what we started when she sees us." A ghost of a smile flickers across his battered face. "Worth it, though." "I agree." I'm surprised to find I mean it. The hatred that's fueled me for eight years hasn't vanished-nothing so simple as that-but it's changed shape, redirected toward the one who truly deserves it. Richard. The architect of our mutual destruction. Something close to an understanding passes between us. One mind. One purpose. Find her. Protect her. Whatever it takes. "Richard's next," Aries says as we limp toward the woods together, our steps falling into identical rhythm despite our injuries. It's not a question. "Richard's next," I confirm, the promise tasting like blood and something sweeter. Retribution, finally aimed at the right target. "We end him and the empire he built around us." "Together," he adds, the word hanging between us like a bridge over eight years of manufactured hatred. "Together," I echo, testing how it feels. Not comfortable, not yet, but possible. We move forward, broken but somehow more whole than we've been in decades, blood brothers in more ways than one. The night swallows us as we enter the woods, following the path Lilian took. Our girl is out there somewhere. And for once, the Hayes twins are on the same side. God help anyone who gets in our way. "Liliannnn..." I call into the empty quiet of the woods. I risk a look at my brother. My fucking brother. It feels good to say that, to accept it. He just grins and swipes a fresh dribble of blood from his split lip. "Let's find our girl."