Page 15 of The Reckoning (Oakmount Elite #7)

I’m reminded all over again how easily Arson swooped in and laid claim to her.

“I left her for five fucking minutes,” I say, redirecting the conversation.

“Five minutes while the doctor worked, and she was fucking him. Like I never existed. Like what we had meant nothing.” A tiny voice in the back of my mind says what we had did mean nothing because I kept it that way.

For fear of her being hurt, and used against me, but I thought I meant more to her than just some afterthought.

“Stop it. You don’t know that,” Drew counters, some of his usual demeanor returning. “You don’t know what happened between them.”

“She was naked and on top of him. He had just fucked her, so I do know what happened.”

“What you saw was two people who’ve been through trauma finding comfort in each other. It doesn’t have to mean?—”

“It does.” I’m not interested in his rationalizations. “It means something, and it matters to me.”

Drew sighs, suddenly backing off. “Okay, then what do you want to do?”

That’s a good question.

What do I want to do?

Continue this pointless rivalry with my twin, and risk losing Lilian forever?

Or maybe go back to being Richard Hayes’s puppet, the son groomed to take over.

My old life is gone, the man I was before is dead.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is what Lilian means to me, but that’s complicated, so fucking complicated.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But we can’t keep doing this.”

I reflect on Lilian’s words and the anguish in her eyes. I know seeing Arson and me fight kills her and cuts her deep, but letting go of that pain feels like succumbing to him, and I don’t know if I can do that.

Drew nods, respect in his expression. “The bad will end, it always does, and then things will get better. It won’t ever be perfect, but it’ll be better.”

I can only hope he’s right because if it doesn’t get better, I don’t know if there will be a future for Lilian and me.

That’s if Arson doesn’t kill me before it can happen.

The idea of sharing her with him kills me, but the prospect of never having her, never getting the chance to touch her or kiss her, eats away at my insides.

Drew steps back, and I head to the door. “I need to take a walk and clean myself up. Clear my head. Hell, I haven’t been out of a building and in the open air outside of helping to get Lilian back in months. Maybe a walk and some fresh air will help.”

“Maybe.” Drew claps me on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself. Since everything seems a little calmer, I think I’ll go check in on Bel. You guys have my number. Call when you’re ready for next steps.”

The fluorescent light buzzes overhead, throwing sharp shadows across my face as I study the reflection staring back at me.

I don’t recognize the man looking back at me.

A smattering of small nicks along my jaw is bleeding, but I’m satisfied with the shave.

At least the overgrowth of stubble is gone now.

I look sharper now, harder. Less like the ghost Arson left in his place and more like myself—or maybe someone I don’t quite recognize.

My hair’s still longer than I like, shaggy at the edges, and for a moment I toy with the idea of shaving it all off, stripping away every piece of me that even remotely resembles him.

It’s a tempting idea, and one that dies as soon as it forms. I love my hair, and I refuse to let him take another thing from me. Instead, I trim it back as clean as I can manage.

When I step back, the man in the mirror looks leaner and more hollowed out. Hazel eyes ringed with shadows, jaw cut sharper than I remember, a rawness lingering that no amount of soap or water can wash away.

I’m me, but I’m different, and there’s no way to explain that physical feeling. Of seeing yourself but knowing you aren’t really the same person who’s looking back at you. Sliding into clean jeans and a plain T-shirt steadies me.

The fabric feels foreign against skin that’s known nothing but grit and concrete for weeks, but it’s a nice change. The boots ground me, their weight familiar, their solidity welcome. For the first time in too long, I almost feel like myself again—lighter, though not unscarred.

I head out into the morning light. The door to the warehouse slams behind me, and the air outside hits like a fist—cold, sharp, too big after weeks of being trapped in walls and shadows.

Every breath that fills my lungs helps to clear away some of the hazy rage lingering in my mind, but it doesn’t clear the storm in my chest. My boots grind against gravel as I walk aimlessly through the industrial sprawl, hands jammed into my pockets, knuckles throbbing with every pulse.

The city hums with life off in the distance, but here it’s all half-abandoned buildings and silence.

Each step is heavy with everything I left in that room—Lilian’s eyes begging us to stop, Arson’s smug possession, the truth I finally spit out before I lost control.

I should feel free, but every breath just tastes bitter. The new cell phone Drew brought me vibrates in my pocket more than once, but I ignore it. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want reason or logic. I want answers. I want her.

The longer I walk, the more the question gnaws at me. If Lilian asks me to let her go—if she chooses him—could I do it? The thought rips through me like shrapnel.

Fuck, no. I’ll die first.

But that only leaves us with limited options. By the time I circle back to the warehouse, I’m calmer on the outside, though inside I feel raw and ripped open, my rage stripped down to bone. With a harsh breath, I straighten my spine and walk back into the warehouse.

There are so many things to worry about, enemies on all sides, but the most important thing to me at the moment is making sure Lilian and I are okay.

I can’t lose her. Not after everything we’ve endured together.

I know what needs to be done, that we need to talk and choices need to be made, but I don’t know if I’m ready.

Part of me wants to tear my brother apart for touching her. Part of me wants to beg Lilian to remember what we could be. I know I’m also at fault in all of this.

There’s just the fantasy of what we had...then reality, which was me pushing her away time and time again. Then the final blow of her giving up and letting me go.

It hurts to think about.

And part of me—the part forever changed by my captivity—needs answers, needs to know if there is a future for Lilian and me at all, and if so, what that might look like.

As I walk down the hall and back toward the bedroom, my blood pressure spikes as the reminder of how I found them a short while ago springs into my mind.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the visual.

Calm down. I whisper to myself while dragging in a calming breath, then grab the doorknob, turning it slowly before shoving the door all the way open.

On the other side of the door, I find Lilian in Arson’s button-down, the hem skimming her thighs like a possession, her hair mussed from his hands.

It’s hard to admit, but the sight fucking rattles me to my core.

My chest aches from looking at her. Arson sits shirtless beside her, scars etched across his torso like a roadmap of violence, along with nail indentation and scratches from Lilian’s nails.

Two lives carved from the same DNA, yet we’ve become something unrecognizable to one another. Both of them turn their attention to me as soon as I walk in. There’s a flash of guilt in Lilian’s eyes that she doesn’t even try to hide.

Arson’s eyes narrow to slits, like a man daring me to test him.

Lilian gives me the briefest smile. “You look different, but in a good way.”

Her touch, her scent, it’s my undoing, even if it’s mixed with his scent.

I can’t help but smile back at her. “Thanks, I tried my best. I cut myself a few times, but it was worth it. I already feel like I can breathe a little easier.”

“That’s good. I went to find you to try to talk about what happened earlier, but you must’ve left.”

“Yeah, sorry.” I apologize even though I have no reason to. “I needed a little air, so I went for a walk. It helped to sort my thoughts a little bit. It’s important we talk about what happened and try to figure out what the plan is for the future.”

“What happened is done. Lilian is safe,” Arson chimes in.

I drag a chair closer, scraping it deliberately across the floor before sitting. “For now, but who knows about the future. The guys who took her, they weren’t just your backers, that much is obvious. They expected me to be there. In fact, something tells me they needed it to be me.”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face before he can mask it. “Why would they want you?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” I lean forward in the chair—the walk, the fresh air, none of it seems to have helped, as I notice the marks on Lilian’s neck again.

It should be my lips on her neck and my cock inside her.

Deep down, I know I have no right to claim her, but my brain doesn’t give a shit about rational thoughts.

Lilian is mine. Always has been, even if I hadn’t been ready to admit it.

As if Arson can sense the change in my demeanor, his posture stiffens.

I drag in a breath, slow and steady, forcing the storm back down.

Calm. Controlled. I’ve lived my whole life wearing the mask of restraint, pretending I could master what I feel.

Still every time I look at her, I see him, my brother claiming her, and it kills me. It eats me alive from the inside out.

“Aries.” Lilian’s voice is soft, careful. She sees it—the way my fists tighten, the tremor I can’t quite hide. “Relax. Let’s talk about this, okay.”

I try again—inhale, exhale, calm—but the words claw their way out anyway.

“Tell me, Brother…” My tone is almost even, but it cuts like glass. “Did you fuck her just to spite me? Or because you can’t stand the thought of me having something you don’t?”