Page 118 of Dual

“Yes. That’s why I’m here.” She shoves against my arm, pushing her way past me.

I barely move, sighing in relief at the press of her body against my arm. I’ve spent my whole life protecting my little sister, apart from the last year. I’ve been cold and cruel to her. I cut her off, telling myself it was for her own good. I don’t know if that’s true, or if I was just being a selfish prick. But fuck if I don’t love the little hooligan, and there’s a weight that lifts off my chest at having her here, safe. “Jesus, Moira.”

I watch as she flops onto my couch, stretching out in that deliberately provocative way of hers—always taking up space and demanding attention. The way that used to drive me mad but now just reminds me of how young she still is. How much she’s been through.

“Nice to see you too, big brother,” she quips. “Got anything to eat? Because I’m starving. And also, maybe, just maybe, you could show a little concern for your only sister who just escaped a goddamn hostage situation?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut.Hostage?Oh fuck. It was everything out of the worst-case scenarios my head has been playing out over the last few days.

“Start talking,” I demand as I head for the kitchen. I should be checking if Moira’s okay, not interrogating her. But fear for Mads chokes out everything else. Why the fuck isn’t she here if Moira is? “And don’t leave anything out.”

I grab leftover lasagna from the fridge, my hands shaking slightly as I put it on a plate. I know I should apologize. I do want to tell Moira I’m sorry for how I’ve treated her and that I’m sorry for blaming her for what happened with Anna’s father. Sorry for not being the brother she deserves.

But the words stay locked in my throat.

First, Mads.

“Napkins, too!” she calls, and I grab some paper towels.

I drop the plate in front of her with none of the care I should show. I’m too fucking impatient. “Talk.”

She takes a big, dramatic bite, and I know she’s doing it to wind me up. Even in crisis, she has to push back, has to test the boundaries. “You sure you don’t want to ask me how I am first? Maybe offer me a hug, a ‘glad you’re alive, sis?’ No? Cool, cool.”

Shame burns in my stomach. But I can’t care about being a fucking failure of a brother right now.

“Moira,” I manage, my voice strained.

She sighs, dragging her fork through the sauce. “Fine. Short version? Mads and I got snatched off the sidewalk, stashed in some abandoned warehouse by the river, and left to marinate in our own panic.”

Her words hit me like a freight train. The fear I’ve been battling erupts, white-hot and all-consuming. Mads—myMads—kidnapped and held in some warehouse. Every protective instinct in my body roars to life, drowning out reason.

I shoot up from my chair, fists slamming on the table.

“WHERE IS SHE?”

Moira sighs again, looking exhausted. “Someone with serious connections is pulling strings, and Mads thinks it’s too big for you to take on. That it’s someone with more money and power than you.”

Anger and helplessness wage war inside me. My throat tightens around the question I have to ask. “You got out. Why the fuck didn’t you get Mads out with you?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. The accusation in them. The implication. But I can’t take them back, or stop the fear from making me cruel.

Moira grips her fork tighter. “Because she wouldn’t let me, Domhnall. It wasn’t an option. If I’d tried, neither of us would’ve made it.”

Her eyes flash up at me, defiant but also wounded. “And she thought they’d come and kill you. She wasn’t willing to risk it. The guys who had us were people she said she knew from—” She gestures with her fork. “Before.”

Before. The word sends ice through my veins.The Librarian. The organization. The dark world Mads was part of that I’ve been willfully ignoring because it’s easier to pretend we’d left it all behind for good.

Even thinking of it all makes his face flash in my head, and with it, memories of him shoving me down to the floor?—

Myhands ball into fists, rage and terror and shame twisting together in my gut. “That’s even more reason to get her the hell out of there! You should’ve?—”

“What? Magically turned into a Navy SEAL and busted her out between kidnappers with guns?” she snaps. “I did what I had to do. The only way to fix this is by playing their game.”

I want to scream. And break something. And give myself fifty lashes.

I want to hunt down every single person who dared touch what’s mine. But beneath the fury is another emotion—deeper, harder to face.

Guilt.