Page 22 of Twins for the Enemy

Flames.

I spin around. The hand towel was too close to the stove. It’s going up in flames with concerning efficiency.

I snatch the mini fire extinguisher out from under the sink, pulling the pin and squeezing the trigger. The foam sprays out. I keep sweeping over it until it looks like a dire incident with whipped cream. I’d had anincident like that once with a singer before her world tour. Her name escapes me now.

I turn back to Farah, expecting some level of relief, but her hands are twisted together, pressed tight against her chest, while her eyes are still wide. She’s shaking.

I set the extinguisher down slowly. I reach forward, taking her hand in mine. I squeeze it gently before my other hand rests on her shoulder, guiding her out of the kitchen and toward the dining room.

I pull out a chair.

She doesn’t sit down.

“Sit down,” I tell her. She looks over at me like I just appeared in the room. Her knees bend slowly, and she sits.

I keep watching her. Her hands aren’t shaking as hard now, but there’s a slight tremor to them. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be empathetic toward her. If she has an issue with fire, it’s her own goddamn fault.

“At least now I know you’re not going to run,” I remark. “Considering you escaped from your room and didn’t leave the house.”

She’s not looking at me anymore, staring straight ahead like she can still see the fire instead of a wall.

If there is one thing I’ve found out about her, it’s that her temper can break through any locked door or barrier—even one made by her own brain.

“So, I’m going to take off the door,” I say. “You’re not getting a new one.”

Her head snaps up. “What? What about my privacy? Don’t I deserve that?”

“You smashed my door to pieces. You deserve many things; one of them isn’t privacy.”

She stands up, steadier than she’s been all morning. “You must be compensating for a lot to need this much control over another person.”

“We both know I don’t need to compensate foranything.”

Shoving my shoulder, she moves past me. She turns, so she doesn’t have to walk through the kitchen, but at least the fear that overtook her has gone back into the shadows.

I only wish I could cast my concern for her into the shadows too. This story only ends one way, and it’s not with Ellie praising me for taking care of the woman who left her to die.

It will end with legal justice, followed by unbearable quiet.

Chapter seven

~FARAH~

I lay on my stomach at the top of the stairway, concentrating on the voices that drift from the first floor. Kieran told me to stay out of sight when this man showed up, but the longer I’ve been around him, the more I’ve realized that instead of having a wolf inside me, there is a cowardly mouse and a reckless honey badger.

The mouse learned to survive around my father. Quiet. Invisible. Always bracing for impact.

The honey badger came straight from my brother’s imagination. Defiant. Unafraid. Ready to bite anything that smells like control.

Since Kieran told me to stay out of sight when this man showed up, the mouse is obeying by staying camouflaged, but the honey badger can’t help but rebel a little bit, regardless of what consequences might follow.

A rebellion is necessary after everything this morning. I need to feel some level of control. Kieran knows I’m lying about giving in and allowing him to have his way. But I need time. I need to find out how he’d tracked me down the first time, so I can avoid whatever mistake I made.

Unfortunately, it sounds like this man that’s visiting is an event planner, so it’s a waste of a rebellion.

“We were thinking that dinner is going to be served at five,” the other man says. “The caterer says that’s the best time to start with older guests and children.”

“It’s whatever Ellie wants,” Kieran says. “But I’ve also been considering that the Baldwins’ Casino could be a better venue. It has a gorgeous ballroom and staff who trained in the best locations in the world. I know some people. We could secure a night there.”

---