Page 93 of Rooster

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to shove the idea of how far things went before I realized he wasn't Robert. I don't want that shit in my head. I should probably be grateful that he stopped once I realized who he really was, but that gives him credit for somehow having a decent bone in his body, which is ridiculous considering the situation I'm in right now. There's nothing decent about a man who goes out of his way to hurt people connected to his brother because he wants to ruin his life.

If there was ever any one situation that made Henry turn against Robert and vow to ruin any chance he had for happiness, then Robert either didn't mention it or he doesn't truly know when it happened. I can't imagine that a grown man would hold a grudge against his twin for turning him in when they were much younger, but then again, I've never hated someone so much in my life that I wanted to go out of my way to ruin theirs so maybe I'm not the most reliable source of understanding.

Despite the manipulation, the guilt still manages to settle inside of me.

Robert deserves more.

He deserves a woman who can immediately tell him apart from his evil twin. He deserves someone who wouldn't allow a man to touch her after she realized the vibe was off.

He deserves someone who doesn't have to see a flash of a tattoo to be sure that the man she just let shove his hand down her pants is, in fact, not the guy she had been getting to know.

I know my mind is trying to rationalize what I've gone through, and now, still being right in the middle of a traumatic situation isn't the best time to work through that shit. I can't help where my brain goes.

Another shiver runs down my spine, making my teeth chatter. I freeze when it draws Henry's attention.

"Cold, darling?"

I glare at him, refusing to beg for a blanket or for him to turn the heat in the room on. He's not the type of man to do nice things without considering them favors that deserve reciprocity.

As much as I'd like to look away and give him the cold shoulder, I know better than to take my eyes off of him. He wants my attention solely on him. There's no telling what he would do if his ego felt slighted by me right now.

Although I have a million questions, I keep my lips sealed tightly. I have no doubt that even if he told me anything, it would be half-truths or full-on lies. He has no reason to be honest with me.

I feel lighter when his eyes skate back to his computer screen, his fingers working faster than I've ever seen hands working over the keyboard.

It gives me the opportunity to recall the events of the day, and I search my memory of the interactions that led to this moment for when I should've realized the man in the room with me was, in fact, not the guy I was falling for until he and his teammates grilled me.

The wave to Heathen, the bright smile on his face when he saw me. None of that sent up red flags. If anything, it made it seem like Robert was the one picking me up from work.

I quickly realized that my anger at Robert and what happened with his teammates yesterday was unwarranted. If I can't even tell who he is when he's right in front of my face, then I'd wager that whatever text exchange he set up looked so real that they had no other recourse than to confront me the way that they did.

Henry has fooled us all. We're nothing but pawns in a game he has created. He's the only one who knows the rules, and that means he can change them at any point. The only thing any of us are aware of is what his desired outcome will be, and that's to ruin Robert's life for good. We have no clue what his perception of ruined even is, and that makes him the most powerful player in all of our lives at this point.

An uncontrolled whimper escapes my lips, only this time, rather than merely distracting Henry, it draws his full attention.

"I don't want you to be sad, darling," he says in a tone that I would swear came from Robert's lips, and when I look over at the devil himself, he grins, telling me that he has done it on purpose.

"Why do you hate him so much?" I ask, a new round of tears pausing on my lashes before cresting over and running down the sides of my face. "He's your brother."

"He has what I want," he says, the bed dipping under his knee when he approaches.

I fight against my restraints, the effort to get away futile, just like it has been since he tied me up.

"What does he have?" I question, praying the talking will keep him distracted enough that he doesn't touch me.

More sobs escape my throat when he straddles me once again, his palms pressing into the mattress at my sides as he hovers above me.

"You, of course, darling."

I shake my head because that doesn't make sense.

"You put me in his path. You had me first. You didn't have to do anything that involved your brother."

His smile is slow and sinister, making it easy to tell him and Robert apart. I can't believe I didn't see the massive difference until it was too late. I can't unsee the differences now, and it makes me feel like an even bigger fool.

"I didn't want you then." He shrugs as if messing with people's lives is his favorite pastime, as if he has a God-given right to manipulate and hurt people just to entertain himself.

"So you made me his so you'd want me?"

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