Page 87 of Dual

So I sprang this “early honeymoon” on Domhn to try to have it both ways for just a little longer. Keep himandtry to get Mads back. We should be safe here. I did all the research and found that celebrities and wealthy clients from all around the world come here for a reason. Not only is it remote, but they have top-notch security.

But it’s been so long since I last heard her voice in my head. So many days of silence where there should be chaos. So many days of just... me.

I slip out of bed, my bare feet meeting cool stone as I pad to the bathroom. The face in the mirror is unmistakably mine—eyes clear, expression open. No hint of her sharpness in the curl of my lips, no dangerous glint in my gaze.

Just me. Just Anna.

And it terrifies me. Have I lost her completely?

It’s not that I miss her, exactly. Mads is cruel, reckless, and dangerous. She’s the part of me that survived when I couldn’t, the shield I built to protect myself from the horror ofour childhood. But she’s also a part of me—a fundamental piece of who I am. Without her, I feel... incomplete. Unbalanced.

Vulnerable.

The shower helps a little, hot water sluicing over my skin, steam fogging the glass walls. I close my eyes, trying to feel for her presence somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Nothing. Just my own thoughts, circling like restless birds.

By the time I’ve dressed in light cotton pants and a loose top—practical desert wear—Domhnall has returned with coffee and a tray of fresh fruit. The suite opens onto a private terrace, and he’s set up breakfast out there, the morning cool enough to warrant dragging out a throw to wrap around my shoulders.

“Morning, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple. His eyes are warm, crinkled at the corners with a smile that still makes my heart flutter. “Sleep well?”

“Like a dream,” I lie, accepting the coffee he offers. The ceramic mug is warm against my palms, grounding me in the physicality of the moment.

Domhnall studies me over the rim of his own cup, his gaze too perceptive. He’s learned to read the subtle shifts in my demeanor, the small tells that used to signal which version of me he was with. But lately, there’s been confusion in his eyes—as if he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing.

“You’ve got your call with Dr. Ezra today, yeah?” he asks, reaching for a slice of melon from the fruit platter.

I nod, grateful that he remembers without me reminding him. “At eleven. It’ll be good to check in.”

“Perfect timing,” he says. “I’ve got a conference call then too. Quinn’s having some trouble with the Singapore office.”

A comfortable silence settles between us as we eat breakfast, watching the play of morning light across the desert landscape. It’s beautiful here—stark and honest in a way that speaks to something deep inside me. No pretense, no hiding. Just what is in front of you.

“I thought we might try that hiking trail today,” Domhnall says after a while, breaking into my thoughts. “The one that goes up to the lookout point. The concierge mentioned the spectacular views.”

I swallow down a spike of anxiety and nod. “Sounds perfect.”

The morning stretches ahead of us, simple and uncluttered. Breakfast on the terrace, a few hours of work and therapy, then an afternoon of exploration. It should be idyllic. It would be, if not for the constant, gnawing awareness of something missing inside me.

Our suiteat Amangiri comes with a small study—a concrete cube softened by natural textiles and a desk positioned to capture the view. I’ve set up my laptop there for the video call with Dr. Ezra, and the door closed to give me privacy while Domhnall handles his own business out on theterrace. Through the window, I can see him, shoulders set in a tense line as he navigates whatever crisis has arisen at his company in his absence.

The familiar chime of my video call pulls my attention back to the screen. Dr. Ezra’s face appears, slightly pixelated but clear enough. He’s in his office in Dallas, the familiar bookshelf visible behind him.

“Anna,” he greets me, his voice warm despite the digital distance between us. “How are you settling in at Amangiri?”

“It’s beautiful.” I angle the laptop so he can see a bit of the view beyond the window. “Peaceful. Exactly what we needed.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “And how are you feeling? Any changes since we last spoke?”

I hesitate, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the desk. “Nothing’s changed. It’s still just... me. No sign of Mads.”

“And Red?” he asks quietly.

The name sends a chill through me, despite the warmth of the day.

“Nothing,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just silence. But it feels... I don’t know. Like something’s lurking. Waiting.”

Dr. Ezra leans forward slightly, his expression serious. “Anna, we’ve talked about how integration works. It’s not about one alter disappearing or being ‘gone.’ It’s about the walls between parts of yourself becoming more permeable and fluid. Mads isn’t gone. She’s a part of you that you’re starting to accept and incorporate into your whole self.”

“But I can’t feel her,” I protest, frustration creeping into my voice. “I can’t hear her. And if she’s integrated, what about Red? Shouldn’t she be integrated too?”