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)
Then, sensation. Soft sheets against naked skin, the weight of a blanket, the press of a mattress beneath me.
Finally, memory. Violent and fragmented, like glass shards slicing as I try to piece them together.
Aries. Arson. The flood. The chemical mist. Their hands on me. Inside me. Taking, claiming, using.
I should feel violated. Should feel broken. Should feel ashamed. I feel none of those things. The realization is startling enough to make me open my eyes, blinking against the soft light of a bedside lamp. I’m no longer in the basement. I’m in Arson’s bed. The night comes back to me in flashes—the shower, his unexpected gentleness, the way he filled me so differently than Aries had. Not taking. Not claiming. Something else entirely.
I shift slightly, cataloging the damage. There’s a tenderness between my legs that’s bearable but persistent. Finger-shaped bruises on my hips where I was held too hard. A tender spot on my shoulder where teeth broke skin. Not just one set. Both. Matching marks from identical mouths.
The physical evidence of what happened should horrify me. It should make me curl into myself with shame at the trauma of being caught between twin brutalities. Instead, I feel strangely...powerful. I survived them both. Took everything they had to give—the violence and the tenderness—and I’m still here. Still myself.
Is this what it means to be truly seen? Not as the fragile Hayes daughter, the girl with the heart condition, the precious invalid to be protected and controlled. But as a woman capable of withstanding darkness, of containing multitudes.
I examine a bruise on my wrist, pressing it lightly to feel the ache. Proof that it happened. Proof that I’ve been marked by both twins in ways that can never be undone. Their violence. Their desire. Their impossible complexities.
The shame doesn’t come, no matter how I search for it. Perhaps it will find me later, when the strange empowerment fades. For now, there’s only this peculiar strength—the knowledge that I’ve been broken open and somehow emerged more whole than before.
I am not what the Hayes family made me. Not what Aries imagined. Not even what Arson thought he was using. I am something else entirely. Something born in flood waters and fucking. Something that survived twin hungers and emerged changed but undiminished.
I look away and find Arson standing near the dresser, his back to me as he arranges something with methodical precision. Medical supplies, I realize. Bandages, antiseptics, and painkillers neatly lined up on the wooden surface. The care these preparations imply contrasts sharply with the careful distance he maintains.
He senses my wakefulness without turning. “There’s water beside you. Painkillers if you need them.”
Gone is the tenderness from last night. There’s none of the raw connection we forged in the shower and beneath the sheets. He’s clinical now. Detached. As if building walls between us with each passing second.
“Thank you,” I say, voice raspy.
He nods once but doesn’t turn to look at me.
His shoulders are tense beneath his T-shirt, the fabric stretched across muscles rigid with whatever emotion he’s working hard to contain. The distance isn’t accidental. It’s deliberate. Protective, though whether he’s protecting me or himself remains unclear.
I sit up slowly, wincing as new pains become noticeable. The sheet falls to my waist, exposing breasts marked with light bruises—evidence of mouths, hands, desires barely controlled. Arson’s gaze flicks to me in the dresser mirror, then away quickly. There is no missing the way his jaw tightens.
“You can use the shower,” he says, voice flat. “I left clean clothes on the counter.”
“Arson.” The sound of his name stops his movements. “Look at me.”
He turns reluctantly, eyes carefully fixed on a point above my head rather than meeting my gaze. The avoidance feels worse than anything that happened yesterday. I can practically feel him building the wall between us right now. I know he feels something, and everything on his face right now says he’d rather rip out his own heart than acknowledge it.
“We had a deal,” I say carefully, pulling the sheet up to cover myself since my nakedness seems to disturb him now. “My body for Aries’s freedom.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Is that what you think happened yesterday? A transaction?”
“Isn’t it?” I challenge. “You made the terms clear. I agreed to them.”
“And you think you’ve paid your debt?” Finally, his eyes meet mine, something dangerous flickering in their depths. “You think what happened yesterday was you fulfilling your part of some bargain?”
The bitterness in his tone catches me off guard. “I gave you what you wanted,” I say, confusion bleeding into my voice. “I let you—”
“You let me?” He interrupts, a harsh laugh escaping him. He seems pissed off, and I’m confused by that. Isn’t this what he wanted? “You didn’t let me do anything. You didn’t let either of us do anything.”