Page 1 of Dual

ONE

DOMHNALL

The club is empty,and the echo of my footsteps feels unnaturally quiet without the usual cacophony of laughter and moans. There's only the steady tick of the clock on the far wall and low, amber lighting that casts faint shadows, softening the edges of the space.

I see her before she notices me, standing on the stage with one hand resting lightly on the velvet curtain. Her head is tilted, and her profile is softened by the amber glow of the after-hours sconce lighting.

"Anna," I call, my voice breaking the silence. "What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the night at my sister's?"

She turns at the sound of my voice, her movements slow, deliberate. When she faces me, her lips curve into a small, hesitant smile. "I needed to see you," she says softly, almost shyly. "I… I wanted to talk. In the place where we first met. Well, met for real."

I pause, studying her. There's something different about her tonight, though I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Couldn't it wait 'til morning?" I keep my tone gentle. She's moved in with me and we've been happy, but life hasn't been without its bumps in the road. She still has nightmares and always wants to make love afterward. We do, but sometimes, I can't tell if it's Mads or Anna I'm with. In the morning, Anna says never to ask—that deep down, it's always her, no matter which alter I'm with.

But then last week, Anna found her dresses had been shredded with scissors, even though she doesn't remember doing it.

Her therapist thinks Mads is acting out at night. I set up cameras around the house after that to see what her alter might be getting up to while we're both asleep, but there's been nothing since, just my fiancé sleeping beside me in bed. We always knew her coming back from Chicago and living with me might stir things up.

Anna shakes her head, a small motion, almost nervous. "No," she says, stepping closer. "It couldn't wait."

I frown slightly, taking her in as she moves into the light and walks down the few stairs from the stage to the main floor. Her shoulders are rounded, as if she's carrying someinvisible weight. There's a vulnerability in the way she looks at me, her arms crossed lightly, holding herself.

"I'm here now. What is it?"

Her breath catches as if she's searching for the right words. "I just…" she begins, her voice trembling slightly. She looks away for a moment. When she looks back at me, her eyes are glistening. "I didn't think it would be like this. I don't want to share you."

The words land softly, but they're still like a knife through my chest.

I stride closer. I worried that having sex with Mads might be upsetting to her, even though she swears up and down she doesn't mind and that it's actually helping her integrate. "Share me? You know you don't have to share me. I only love you. All of you. It's only ever been you."

She takes another step closer, her movements unsteady, like she's unsure of herself. "But you spend so much time with her," she murmurs, her voice almost breaking.

Does she mean at night? Is there something she hasn't been telling me?

Her fingers twitch at her sides before she reaches out, brushing them lightly against my jaw. The touch is fleeting, tentative. "She understands you… in ways I don't. And I can't stop thinking about it."

There's a softness in her tone that makes me hesitate, but something still feels… off. Her words, her gestures—they're just a little too precise, like an actor in a well-rehearsed role. I watch her closely and stiffen as I try to read what's beneath the surface.

"Anna," I say slowly, careful not to startle her. "Please, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

She takes a shaky breath, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something darker behind her eyes. She steps closer again, her fingers trailing to cup my cheek, the touch firmer now. "You're mine," she whispers, her voice dipping, the softness replaced by something sharper, more insistent. "Aren't you, Domhnall?"

Her words hang in the air between us, thick with implications I can't ignore. Her fingers linger against my cheek, the warmth of her touch belying the sharpness in her eyes.

"You're mine, aren't you?" she repeats, her voice softer this time. Coaxing, but with an edge that cuts deeper.

I don't move. I don't even breathe for a moment, studying her as her thumb brushes against my jaw. This close, the cracks in her facade are harder to miss. The subtle lift of her chin. The challenge hidden in her eyes.

This isn't Anna. Not entirely.

"Mads," I murmur, watching for her reaction.

For an instant, her expression freezes, the smallest flicker of something caught between surprise and frustration. Then her lips curve, the smile softer now, but there's no mistaking the glint of satisfaction in her gaze.

"Mads?" she echoes, tilting her head, her thumb pausing mid-stroke. "Why would you call me that?"

I reach up, wrapping my fingers gently around her wristto stop her touch. "Because Anna doesn't look at me like that." My voice is low. "And she doesn't play games like this."