Chapter 9 I make it only feet down the hall before I lose control and smash my fist into the concrete wall. The pain barely registers in my mind as the skin splits across my knuckles. It's a distant, secondary feeling to the white-hot rage coursing through my veins at this moment. Seeing her naked body pressed against his chest. Fuck. The memory makes me mental, makes me want to spill blood. She says she's not choosing him, but it feels like she is. It looks like she is. "Whoa," Drew says from somewhere behind me. "Maybe don't break your hand? We've got enough problems without adding more injuries to the pot." I round on him, all the accumulated betrayal of the past months finding a convenient target. "Shut the fuck up. You don't get to joke. Not now. Not after everything." Drew's expression shifts, warmth draining from his features until I'm looking at a stranger wearing my friend's face. His posture straightens, shoulders squaring as he meets my gaze with cold calculation. "I thought we would wait to hash this out, but it seems like you're looking for a fight so maybe we will discuss it now," he announces, his voice flat. The sudden transformation throws me off balance. I've seen Drew drunk, angry, even in a few fights over the years, but never like this-clinical, detached, like he's assessing a business risk rather than facing his supposed best friend. No, that's not true. I've seen this side of him before, when he faced down his father. He only shows this side of himself when facing the enemy, so when did I become the enemy to him? That only adds fuel to the raging inferno of emotions coursing through me. It's childish to allow my anger toward Arson and Lilian to bleed over into my issues with Drew, but I need to direct these feelings somewhere or I might explode. "How could you not know?" I advance on him, undeterred. "How could you not have seen the difference and done something, said something, anything?" Some tiny part in my brain wants to protest that he has Bel, and that we'd all graduated, and that we weren't seeing each other every day anymore, but that's just an excuse in my mind. I don't want excuses. I want somewhere to bury my fist. Drew doesn't flinch, doesn't back away. He simply watches me with those suddenly unreadable eyes. "What do you want me to say, Aries?" He shrugs, the gesture deliberately casual. "That I'm sorry? That I made a mistake? Would that make you feel better?" "No. It wouldn't. I want the truth," I growl, grabbing the front of his shirt. "I want to know how my best friend could watch me disappear and not take notice when a completely different person took over my life. I want to know why you did nothing? Why none of you seemed to notice a damn thing." There's a dangerous flicker in his eyes-a reminder that beneath the easygoing frat boy exterior is someone darker, harder, more complex and misunderstood than we realize. A dark, menacing beast that's always on the cusp of being unleashed. "You act like your disappearance is a shock, but you left long before your brother stepped in to play your role." What the fuck did he just say? I release him, stepping back as if burned. "What the fuck does that mean?" "It means"-Drew straightens his shirt with methodical precision-"that while you claim we didn't notice your disappearance, you didn't disappear when Arson took you. You were gone long before that. Always hiding, refusing to hang out, or answer text messages. There was no difference between you then and when your brother assumed your identity. It's like you were counting down the days until you had to join Hayes Enterprises." He huffs and scrubs his hands up his face before continuing. "Look, I'm not using that as an excuse for being a shitty friend. I only mean that we were trying not to intrude and give you the space you seemed to want at the time. We'd all gone through a lot the last couple of years. It made sense to me that you might want some distance from all the drama, being the one of us that, at the time, seemed to have less of it." The betrayal cuts deeper than I care to admit. My friendship with Drew goes back to childhood-roommates, teammates, wingmen. Years of shared history, of inside jokes and covered asses and drunken confessions at three a.m. Part of me wants to be pissed at him, at all my friends, but the other part of me knows he's right. I had been pulling away. Mostly, because they had first, but I wasn't going to shit on all of their happy parades as they rode off into the sunset with their girlfriends and happy lives. "I understand, and you're right, I was pulling away, but I also didn't want to rain on everyone's happy life." "We're a brotherhood, Aries. Nothing can bring us down. Now tell me what the real problem is since I know there is more going on than being pissed at me." I almost laugh. "There's a lot going on, so much I can't seem to wrap my head around it." "Explain." "Well, my evil fucking twin brother is taking everything from me, including Lilian." Drew's expression doesn't change, but there's a subtle shift in his eyes-a flicker of what might be sympathy, I'm not sure. But before I get the chance to see it fully, it disappears, buried beneath cold professionalism. "Technically, you can't take something that was never yours. If you wanted her, then you should've claimed her." This motherfucker is about to get punched in the face. "Are you kidding me? Of all the fucking people who know me, and my family, that's the last answer I would expect to come out of your mouth." He sighs, and my anger and frustration only seem to mount. I could really use a voice of reason right now, not another reminder of why I should say fuck it and go beat the shit out of him. "If she chooses him, what can you do? What other choice is there then to let her be happy?" "She didn't choose him. She didn't choose either of us. In fact, I don't even know how I feel, or what we are." "Then you can't be mad at him for claiming her when you're still confused about what you might or might not be." What he's saying is logical, but I don't care. I've wanted Lilian for so long that now it feels like she's already mine, and I don't know how to handle it because it's not just an emotional attachment. It's a physical need, a possession. "What if the roles were reversed? What if this was Bel? What would you do then?" The darkness in his eyes hardens. "Even when I was confused about what Bel and I might or might not be, I still ensured that she belonged to me. There was no way in hell I was going to let her slip through my fingers and into someone else's hands." He could've just called me a piece of shit. "That wasn't an option for me." I shake my head angrily. "I was trying to protect her, trying to stop her from being used as a pawn on the Hayes chessboard." "Okay, so what's stopping you from making her yours now?" What is stopping me? Arson. Myself. A thousand and one excuses. The growing danger she faces by being associated with us. There are a lot more fucking reasons for me not to make her mine than there are to claim her. I peer around the warehouse's common area. Is this the life I want for her? Going from warehouse to warehouse? Dodging danger left and right. No, I don't. The new warehouse is sparse-with a few mismatched chairs, a table covered in surveillance equipment, and a coffee maker Drew scrounged from somewhere. It all feels surreal, like I've stepped into someone else's nightmare. "There are a lot more reasons to let her be with him than there are for her to be with me." "You're only saying that because you're afraid of those feelings, but I know you'll figure it out. All that matters is that we got her out of the enemy's hands, and she's safe." "Yeah." I flex my bleeding hand, focusing on the sting. "Got her out just in time for my brother to fuck her." The crudeness of my own words surprises me. I'm not usually so raw. Guess that's what captivity does to you. It strips away the layers of polish and social conditioning. The man who emerged from that concrete cell is harder and sharper at the edges. More like Arson than I want to admit. I think back to the way she looked at me when I walked into that room. The memory is crystal clear-Lilian, bruised and bound to a chair, eyes widening when I appeared in the doorway. The spark of hope in her expression and the way she said my name. The way the men holding her didn't seem surprised to see me. "She looked relieved," I say, mostly to myself. "When I walked into that room where they were holding her. It seemed like she'd been waiting for me specifically. Like it was all a setup." I continue, the pieces clicking into place. "They wanted me there, and not Arson. They seemed...pleased when they realized it was me and not him." Drew frowns, moving closer. "Yeah, I remember that asshole saying something to that effect. What does it mean? They obviously have some kind of plan on top of whatever you two, or you fucking three, are doing here." "I don't know what it means. I have nothing to do with them." Drew's expression shifts to concern. "Did you tell Arson about this?" "Haven't had the chance, what with walking in on him screwing the woman I-" I cut myself off, the word catching in my throat. The woman I what? Love? Care about? Want? I can't even admit it to myself, let alone say it out loud. Whatever I feel for Lilian is too complicated, too entangled with family expectations and personal desires to be easily defined. Now with Arson in the picture, it's even messier. I'm reminded all over again how easily Arson swooped in and laid claim to her. "I left her for five fucking minutes," I say, redirecting the conversation. "Five minutes while the doctor worked, and she was fucking him. Like I never existed. Like what we had meant nothing." A tiny voice in the back of my mind says what we had did mean nothing because I kept it that way. For fear of her being hurt, and used against me, but I thought I meant more to her than just some afterthought. "Stop it. You don't know that," Drew counters, some of his usual demeanor returning. "You don't know what happened between them." "She was naked and on top of him. He had just fucked her, so I do know what happened." "What you saw was two people who've been through trauma finding comfort in each other. It doesn't have to mean⁠-" "It does." I'm not interested in his rationalizations. "It means something, and it matters to me." Drew sighs, suddenly backing off. "Okay, then what do you want to do?" That's a good question. What do I want to do? Continue this pointless rivalry with my twin, and risk losing Lilian forever? Or maybe go back to being Richard Hayes's puppet, the son groomed to take over. My old life is gone, the man I was before is dead. The only thing that hasn't changed is what Lilian means to me, but that's complicated, so fucking complicated. "I don't know," I admit. "But we can't keep doing this." I reflect on Lilian's words and the anguish in her eyes. I know seeing Arson and me fight kills her and cuts her deep, but letting go of that pain feels like succumbing to him, and I don't know if I can do that. Drew nods, respect in his expression. "The bad will end, it always does, and then things will get better. It won't ever be perfect, but it'll be better." I can only hope he's right because if it doesn't get better, I don't know if there will be a future for Lilian and me. That's if Arson doesn't kill me before it can happen. The idea of sharing her with him kills me, but the prospect of never having her, never getting the chance to touch her or kiss her, eats away at my insides. Drew steps back, and I head to the door. "I need to take a walk and clean myself up. Clear my head. Hell, I haven't been out of a building and in the open air outside of helping to get Lilian back in months. Maybe a walk and some fresh air will help." "Maybe." Drew claps me on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself. Since everything seems a little calmer, I think I'll go check in on Bel. You guys have my number. Call when you're ready for next steps." The fluorescent light buzzes overhead, throwing sharp shadows across my face as I study the reflection staring back at me. I don't recognize the man looking back at me. A smattering of small nicks along my jaw is bleeding, but I'm satisfied with the shave. At least the overgrowth of stubble is gone now. I look sharper now, harder. Less like the ghost Arson left in his place and more like myself-or maybe someone I don't quite recognize. My hair's still longer than I like, shaggy at the edges, and for a moment I toy with the idea of shaving it all off, stripping away every piece of me that even remotely resembles him. It's a tempting idea, and one that dies as soon as it forms. I love my hair, and I refuse to let him take another thing from me. Instead, I trim it back as clean as I can manage. When I step back, the man in the mirror looks leaner and more hollowed out. Hazel eyes ringed with shadows, jaw cut sharper than I remember, a rawness lingering that no amount of soap or water can wash away. I'm me, but I'm different, and there's no way to explain that physical feeling. Of seeing yourself but knowing you aren't really the same person who's looking back at you. Sliding into clean jeans and a plain T-shirt steadies me. The fabric feels foreign against skin that's known nothing but grit and concrete for weeks, but it's a nice change. The boots ground me, their weight familiar, their solidity welcome. For the first time in too long, I almost feel like myself again-lighter, though not unscarred. I head out into the morning light. The door to the warehouse slams behind me, and the air outside hits like a fist-cold, sharp, too big after weeks of being trapped in walls and shadows. Every breath that fills my lungs helps to clear away some of the hazy rage lingering in my mind, but it doesn't clear the storm in my chest. My boots grind against gravel as I walk aimlessly through the industrial sprawl, hands jammed into my pockets, knuckles throbbing with every pulse. The city hums with life off in the distance, but here it's all half-abandoned buildings and silence. Each step is heavy with everything I left in that room-Lilian's eyes begging us to stop, Arson's smug possession, the truth I finally spit out before I lost control. I should feel free, but every breath just tastes bitter. The new cell phone Drew brought me vibrates in my pocket more than once, but I ignore it. I don't want to talk. I don't want reason or logic. I want answers. I want her. The longer I walk, the more the question gnaws at me. If Lilian asks me to let her go-if she chooses him-could I do it? The thought rips through me like shrapnel. Fuck, no. I'll die first. But that only leaves us with limited options. By the time I circle back to the warehouse, I'm calmer on the outside, though inside I feel raw and ripped open, my rage stripped down to bone. With a harsh breath, I straighten my spine and walk back into the warehouse. There are so many things to worry about, enemies on all sides, but the most important thing to me at the moment is making sure Lilian and I are okay. I can't lose her. Not after everything we've endured together. I know what needs to be done, that we need to talk and choices need to be made, but I don't know if I'm ready. Part of me wants to tear my brother apart for touching her. Part of me wants to beg Lilian to remember what we could be. I know I'm also at fault in all of this. There's just the fantasy of what we had...then reality, which was me pushing her away time and time again. Then the final blow of her giving up and letting me go. It hurts to think about. And part of me-the part forever changed by my captivity-needs answers, needs to know if there is a future for Lilian and me at all, and if so, what that might look like. As I walk down the hall and back toward the bedroom, my blood pressure spikes as the reminder of how I found them a short while ago springs into my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut against the visual. Calm down. I whisper to myself while dragging in a calming breath, then grab the doorknob, turning it slowly before shoving the door all the way open. On the other side of the door, I find Lilian in Arson's button-down, the hem skimming her thighs like a possession, her hair mussed from his hands. It's hard to admit, but the sight fucking rattles me to my core. My chest aches from looking at her. Arson sits shirtless beside her, scars etched across his torso like a roadmap of violence, along with nail indentation and scratches from Lilian's nails. Two lives carved from the same DNA, yet we've become something unrecognizable to one another. Both of them turn their attention to me as soon as I walk in. There's a flash of guilt in Lilian's eyes that she doesn't even try to hide. Arson's eyes narrow to slits, like a man daring me to test him. Lilian gives me the briefest smile. "You look different, but in a good way." Her touch, her scent, it's my undoing, even if it's mixed with his scent. I can't help but smile back at her. "Thanks, I tried my best. I cut myself a few times, but it was worth it. I already feel like I can breathe a little easier." "That's good. I went to find you to try to talk about what happened earlier, but you must've left." "Yeah, sorry." I apologize even though I have no reason to. "I needed a little air, so I went for a walk. It helped to sort my thoughts a little bit. It's important we talk about what happened and try to figure out what the plan is for the future." "What happened is done. Lilian is safe," Arson chimes in. I drag a chair closer, scraping it deliberately across the floor before sitting. "For now, but who knows about the future. The guys who took her, they weren't just your backers, that much is obvious. They expected me to be there. In fact, something tells me they needed it to be me." A flicker of surprise crosses his face before he can mask it. "Why would they want you?" "That's what I'd like to know." I lean forward in the chair-the walk, the fresh air, none of it seems to have helped, as I notice the marks on Lilian's neck again. It should be my lips on her neck and my cock inside her. Deep down, I know I have no right to claim her, but my brain doesn't give a shit about rational thoughts. Lilian is mine. Always has been, even if I hadn't been ready to admit it. As if Arson can sense the change in my demeanor, his posture stiffens. I drag in a breath, slow and steady, forcing the storm back down. Calm. Controlled. I've lived my whole life wearing the mask of restraint, pretending I could master what I feel. Still every time I look at her, I see him, my brother claiming her, and it kills me. It eats me alive from the inside out. "Aries." Lilian's voice is soft, careful. She sees it-the way my fists tighten, the tremor I can't quite hide. "Relax. Let's talk about this, okay." I try again-inhale, exhale, calm-but the words claw their way out anyway. "Tell me, Brother..." My tone is almost even, but it cuts like glass. "Did you fuck her just to spite me? Or because you can't stand the thought of me having something you don't?" The air between us snaps taut. Arson reacts instantly, fury flashing across his face. His voice is a snarl, sharp enough to flay me open. "She doesn't belong to anyone. You're just too blind to see it. Too much of a coward to say what you feel. You're jealous-jealous that I can admit it, jealous of what we share." The words detonate in my chest, cutting deeper than any fist ever could, because he's right. He's stolen the one truth I've never had the strength to voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Lilian slide to the edge of the bed. "Stop, both of you." The fire in her blue eyes, the steel in her spine-this is the Lilian I've always admired. She's so strong despite her supposed fragility. Determined despite being constantly underestimated. Fuck, this is the woman I've missed, the one I've longed for. She pushes off the bed and slips between us, and somehow it feels like she's trying to protect him. Why him? Why fucking him? "I already explained this to Arson, and I intended to tell you as well. I can't keep doing this. I won't keep doing this. I refuse to be caught in the middle of your hate for one another. Choosing between the two of you isn't an option. It would kill me." "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Lilian." It's true, even though I know that's exactly what I've done. All the times I pushed her away, lied to myself, and ignored her. It was another slap in the face to her. Lilian can't see Arson because her back is to him, but he tilts his head to the side and curls his lip, a cross between a sneer and a smirk appearing on his face. "I would never make you choose, Lilian. You know that, but I think it's obvious who gives a fuck about you and who doesn't. He had a chance to claim you, and he threw it away." "Are you kidding me? You know nothing about my relationship with Lilian. Every fucking choice I ever made was based upon her. To protect her, to ensure she wasn't used as another fucking chess piece on our father's board. I didn't throw shit away." Arson's laugh is low, humorless, the sound of someone twisting the knife because he knows exactly where to strike. I know he's goading me, baiting me into a fight but I can't stop myself from giving in to the rage. This has been a long time coming. "Protect her?" he repeats, shaking his head. "All you did was hide behind excuses. You call it sacrifice-I call it cowardice. You never claimed her because deep down you knew you weren't man enough to." My chair screeches against the floor as I shove to my feet, muscles coiled tight, fury searing through me. I don't just stand-I rip the chair back and toss it aside, the crack of wood hitting the floor rings in my ears. I don't think. I don't breathe. I lunge and swing wildly, aiming for the brother who stole everything-my life, my freedom, and now the only woman I've ever given a fuck about, and maybe even loved. Arson sidesteps easily, a lifetime of fighting giving him reflexes I lack despite our identical genetics. I'm not thinking things through, not able to rationalize. I'm all anger, all pain. I just want to hurt him. To make him feel even a fraction of what he's caused me. "Aries, stop!" Lilian shouts, her fear-laced voice sinking in. I pull back just in time to avoid hitting her, my heart thunders in my chest, and a fresh wave of horror ripples through me. What am I becoming? What has he made me into? "I'm done," Lilian says, voice cracking with emotion. "With the fighting. The hatred. All of it. I locked you in that cell to try to fix the problem, but it seems all I did was make it worse. If all that matters to both of you is getting revenge and seeing how much you can make the other person hate you, then I want nothing to do with either of you. This is my life, too, and regardless of what you both think, I have a say in what happens in my own life." Why does it feel like she's leaving, like she's slipping through my fingers all over again? Because she is. She's telling us that she isn't going to be caught in the middle of our hate anymore, and she means it. I can see it in her eyes and feel it in the tremble of her voice. It kills her, but she's willing to walk away from us both if we can't figure this out, and that thought guts me. It cuts me right down the fucking middle. Lilian moves from between us, and we both seem to turn in her direction, gravitating toward her like she is our sun. Arson recovers first, taking a half step toward her before thinking better of it. "Lilian-" "No." She cuts him off, eyes blazing. "I mean it. I'm not going to let you two tear each other apart over me. That's not who I am. That's not who I want to be. If your hate for one another is greater than your feelings for me, then you can have each other." She looks between us, something like determination-or maybe resignation-settling in her blue eyes. "If you can't figure it out and make it work, then I'll do this on my own. All of it." The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on. Arson stares at her with an intensity that makes something twist in my gut-possessive, protective, something I've never seen from him before. The look doesn't belong on my face, yet there it is, mirrored back at me in the most fucked-up way possible. "Lilian," he says again, voice uncharacteristically gentle. "It's not safe for you to be alone. These men are dangerous. Whatever they want with Aries⁠-" "I don't care." She cuts him off. "Maybe with me out of the picture, you both will be able to figure things out-either that or you'll kill each other." Her gaze shifts to me, those blue eyes that have haunted me for years now hardened with determination. "Aries, I understand your anger. I do. But this"-she gestures back and forth between us-"this hatred, this competition. It has to stop." "Easy for you to say," I mutter, the bitterness I've been nursing for months spilling over. "You're not the one who spent months in a cage while your twin played house with your⁠-" I stop myself again, that word still caught in my throat. What was Lilian to me, really? Something I've never been able to define because defining it would make it real? "With what?" Lilian challenges, stepping closer. "Your what, Aries? Your girlfriend...because you sure as hell made sure I was never that." The accusation stings, but only because there's truth in it. Our relationship was always complicated, but it was also...something else. Something genuine that got tangled up in expectations and obligations. "That's not fair," I say, voice low. "What we had⁠-" "Was built on lies," she finishes for me. "Lies about who you were. About who I was. About what was expected of us. And worst of all, the lies you told yourself to keep us from actually being something." "And what you have with him is better?" I can't keep the bitterness from my tone. "The man who kidnapped me? Who stole my life? Who's been planning the destruction of our entire family?" "I didn't say that." Lilian glances back at Arson, and a look of complication passes between them. "There is no competition to be had. I'm not choosing either of you. I'm choosing myself." When we don't respond, she stands, hands on her hips and mouth grim. "Going forward, if either of you wants anything to do with me, you will learn to fucking share. Learn to put your differences aside. I don't care how much it might hurt me to walk away. Don't call my bluff because I'll do it. Seeing you two act like this hurts me so much more." "It's not something we can turn on and off," Arson mutters, clearly frustrated. Lilian takes a deep breath, maybe trying to center herself before she looks between us once more. "I understand that, and I'm not expecting you to let all that pain and hatred go. But I will not let you use me as an object to transfer those emotions through. If either of you wants a chance with me, if you care as much as you claim, then you will learn to get along. Even if it's only for me. Our primary focus is working together, and we can't work as a team if you're constantly at odds with each other. These men-whoever they are, whatever they want-they're playing a game none of us fully understand. It was clear by the way the older one was talking to me that he knew things that we didn't. We are missing big pieces of the puzzle. We can't be at our strongest if the only thing you both care more about than bringing these people down is hurting each other." Arson resettles his shoulders, and it's so wholly a movement that isn't related to me that it makes me relax a degree. "I understand," I tell her, willing her to see it. "So do I," Arson adds. She shakes her head at us. "If you understood, then you would let some of the hate between the two of you go, so you could work together, but you don't. You're still at each other's throats." It's the truth, and I don't know how to defuse the rage. Which is greater-my hate for Arson or my desire to be with Lilian? There is no Lilian without him, and if I want her, then I will need to learn to accept that. "I'm not giving you up, and I'm not willing to put your safety at risk because of him." "I feel the same way," Arson growls. "Okay, then we're in agreement. You will do your best to stop fighting and trying to hurt each other." My jaw aches as I clench it. I don't want to agree, but I know if I don't, Lilian will walk out that fucking door, and I won't be able to live with myself if I let her walk away again. "Yes, at least for the time being. Once everything returns to normal, I can't say we won't be at each other's throats again. The only thing we can seem to agree on is you." Arson meets my gaze, identical hazel eyes reflecting the same cold determination I feel. "Agreed." "Fine, but my stance remains the same. It's both of you or neither of you. I refuse to choose between you." We settle into silence that I hope means she believes we are going to try, but I don't have high hopes. Even I don't believe we can make this temporary truce work, but failing her isn't a fucking option. Arson draws my attention away from my raging thoughts when he snags a laptop out of a bag off the floor. "I can get started on investigating these guys a little more." I scratch my jaw. "What do you mean? You said they were your backers. Don't you know who you have backing you?" He levels me with an icy look. "I doubt I need to explain this to you, but sometimes people turn out to be something worse or better than you thought they were. Turns out, I didn't know these fuckers as well as I thought." At least he's taking accountability for his lack of fucking original research. This partnership should have never happened. It's strange, watching him take charge. Seeing the man-my brother-working on a plan that might save us all. Part of me wants to resist on principle-to fight his leadership simply because it's him, but I just agreed to keep the peace. It's necessary for Lilian's protection that we work together. At least until this more immediate threat is dealt with. After that, we'll see what happens. One thing I know for sure is that neither of us intends to give her up. I move to stand on the opposite side of the table. "Tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it." The smile Lilian gives me is worth every insufferable moment I'll have to endure with my brother in order to be with her. I want Lilian, and I'm going to prove it to her.