Page 141 of Dual
The young man’s hand closes on his gun as he starts to draw it.
“No!” The word tears from my throat as Domhnall appears beside me, his own weapon already out and aimed at the young man’s head.
“Don’t!” I scream, leaping between them. “It’s my brother!”
Everything stops. The security team freezes mid-stride.Domhnall’s finger hovers over the trigger, already moved so his body is a wall between me and the threat.
“Your what?” Domhn’s voice is deadly calm, but I can hear the confusion underneath.
The young man—my brother—laughs, though there’s no humor in it. “She didn’t tell you about me? I’m not surprised. I was barely three when our mother took me away.”
Memories I’ve buried for twenty years come flooding back. A toddler with bright hazel eyes like mine, clinging to our mother’s skirts. The night she left, taking him but leaving me behind. I thought they were dead. Father had told me they were dead.
“And Mama?” I whisper, the word feeling foreign on my tongue.
“Died of cancer when I was five,” he says flatly. “But not before Kozlov took us in. He raised me as his own after that piece of shit father of ours abandoned us.”
The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. Kozlov’s mysterious son. The child our mother saved by leaving, even as she condemned me to stay.
“He saved us,” my brother continues, his hand still on his weapon. “When everyone else threw us away like garbage, he gave us a home. And you—” His voice cracks with rage. “You killed him. You’re exactly like your piece of shit father.”
“Kozlov was a monster, too,” I say, finding my voice. “He trafficked women. He?—”
“He was the only father I ever knew!” The gun clears its holster, and suddenly everyone is moving at once.
Domhnall shoves me all the way behind him. The security team rushes forward. My brother raises his weapon.
And Mads, finally breaking free of my control, surges forward, steps in front of Domhnall, and screams, “Ethan! Ethan, stop!”
Everyone freezes again. My brother—Ethan—stares at me with wide eyes.
“How do you know that name?” he demands. “I haven’t used that name since?—”
“Since you were three,” Mads says through my mouth. “Since the night Mama wrapped you in the blue blanket with the stars on it and carried you out of that house. You were crying. You didn’t want to leave your ‘Mati.’ You didn’t understand why I couldn’t come too.”
The gun wavers in his hand. “You remember?”
“I remember everything,” Mads says through me, and I can feel her grief, rage, and desperate love for the little brother she thought was lost forever. “I remember singing you to sleep. I remember teaching you your first words. I remember begging Mama to take me too. But she wouldn’t. Our awful father made her choose. She chose you.”
“She said you were daddy’s favorite,” Ethan says, his voice small and broken. “Said he’d never let you go. Said she’d come back for you.”
“She lied.” The words are bitter on my tongue. “But maybe that lie saved your life.”
The gun drops an inch. Another. Behind me, I can feelDomhnall vibrating with tension, ready to move the second he gets an opening.
“I left him when I turned eighteen,” Ethan says suddenly. “Kozlov. I couldn’t stomach what he did. The trafficking. The women. But I owed him for saving me, for raising me when no one else would. It was the one thing he made me vow to him. To bring honor to his name if he were ever murdered. So when he died, when I found out who killed him, I had to?—”
“You infiltrated Isaak’s security company,” Domhnall says, speaking for the first time since this confrontation began. “You’ve been planning this for months.”
Ethan nods, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “I’m very good at what I do. Kozlov made sure of that.”
“So what now?” I ask, gently pushing past Domhnall’s protective stance. “You kill me? Kill your own sister? Would that make you feel better?”
“I don’t know!” The words explode from him, young and lost and achingly familiar. “I don’t know anything anymore. You’re supposed to be dead. My whole family is supposed to be dead. But you’re here, and you remember my name, and you—” His voice breaks completely. “You look just like her. Like Mom.”
The gun falls to his side, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
“I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking tired of being angry.”
