Page 13 of Sadistic

"You should see him," Everly says quietly. "Close that chapter properly."

"Doran said I could have my freedom this weekend..." The words taste bitter.

Freedom with conditions, with surveillance, with the knowledge that Monday I become someone else entirely.

"Then take it. But be honest with Njal. He deserves that much."

"Does he?" Dalla's voice is sharp, which isn’t typical of my sister. "Two years of sneaking around, never making it official, always 'we'll figure it out later.' Now later's here and suddenly he wants to talk?"

"That's not fair?—"

"Isn't it?" She rounds on me. "You get one last fuck while I get to watch you marry a stranger? While I wonder every day if I'm next?"

The words hit like a slap. "Dalla?—"

"No. You know what? Go. Go say goodbye to your boyfriend who was never really your boyfriend. I'll be here, packing up our lives, wondering when the Irish will decide they need another alliance, and if our father will throw me in the deal too."

"That's not—this isn't my fault!"

"I know that!" She's crying now, mascara making fresh tracks down her face. "I know it's not your fault. But it should have been me. I'm older?—"

"By twelve minutes?—"

"I should protect you! That's my job. That's what I've always done. And now I have to watch you—" Her voice breaks.

"Remember when we were seven?" I say suddenly. "And Mikey Morris kept pulling my hair on the playground?"

She blinks at the subject change. "Yeah?"

"You put a spider in his lunchbox. Told him if he touched me again, you'd put one in his bed."

"Little shit screamed like a baby," she says, almost smiling.

"And when we were thirteen and I got my period at school?—"

"I pretended I'd peed myself so everyone would look at me instead." She wipes her nose. "Ruined my favorite jeans."

"You've been protecting me our whole lives, Dal. But you know what?" I cross to her, take her face in my hands. "I've been protecting you too. Every time Dad got too drunk, too angry because of club shit. Every time Mom cried because of the stress and pressure of life, and couldn't get out of bed. We protected each other. That's what we do."

"But this is different?—"

"No, it's not." I pull her into my arms. "It's just bigger. Scarier. But we're still us. Still the same old twins against the world."

She clings to me, crying harder now. "I can't lose you."

"You'll never lose me," I whisper into her hair. "Never. Do you hear me?"

"Promise?"

"Promise." I pull back, look her in the eye. "We protect each other. That's what we do. That's what we've always done."

She nods, wiping her face. "I'm coming with you."

"Dalla—"

"Wherever you go, I'm coming too." Her chin sets in that stubborn way I know means no argument will work. "You're not this alone."

"I need to do this part on Monday alone," I say gently. "But you can drive me. Keep the car running in case I need a quick escape."

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