a fracture in their bond.
Mostly, I’m afraid they’ll fight and that fight will lead to more bruises, more cuts, and more scars.
It would kill me to be the reason for another mark on either of their bodies.
Although, after what Ezra said to me tonight, I’m not sure he’s completely oblivious to how Damon feels. And the fact he was willing to hurt his brother because of me only shows me I was right to walk away from both of them.
Still, that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Especially when you’re so pretty when you cry...”
The fucking bastard.
I know what you’re thinking, only because I’ve thought it myself. Tell the evil twin to fuck right off and stay with the loving one. It would be so easy, right?
Sure. Just be sure to let my heart know that, or convince my soul to let go. Because only one of them brings me to life.
Maybe I just have a thing for toxic men.
Or maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment.
Either way, the anger I feel for what he said to me helps dry my tears, and I drive the rest of the way home on autopilot.
Dylan’s car is parked crooked when I pull up, but I don’t care or pay much attention when I park beside him.
I’m too busy being upset about the twins to watch where I’m going, my thoughts still back at their house when my leg catches something sharp, my skin burning from the deep scratch.
Hissing at the pain, I stop in place to examine the damage to my leg, and that’s when I notice the damage to Dylan’s car.
My eyes round to see the entire front end crushed in, the metal shredded and the headlight hanging out.
On one hand, I want to laugh because I know he’ll get his ass handed to him for this, but on the other, I realize this will set him off worse, and he’ll be even more of a dick to me.
Then again, he’s the baby of the family, the spoiled son who gets whatever he wants and never gets in trouble. Which is why I’m surprised to hear my dad’s voice when I walk into the house, his tone sharp and cutting as he scolds Dylan.
Closing the door as quietly as possible, I don’t move or make a sound.
I’m half expecting to hear him being grounded, and a little excited that my parents might cut off his constant partying as punishment for wrecking the car.
Instead, I hear something that makes no sense, a threat buried in my father’s words that confuses the hell out of me while causing my skin to crawl.
“You couldn’t even do that right, could you? What the fuck is wrong with you? I said I want her dead. Not injured. Not scared. Dead. And now it looks like I’ll have to handle it because you’re a fucking disappointment who can’t follow through with the simplest task.”
My brows tug together at that.
“She needs to be taken out. And all you managed to do was fuck this up.”
“Dad-“
“No! Don’t give me your fucking excuses, Dylan. You know how important this is. Pay to repair your own fucking car. I’m not coming out of pocket for this.”
“But you said-“
“I know what I said. I also know you’re a fuck up who parties too much to do anything right.”
Their voices die off as footsteps approach the foyer. I duck right into a small sitting room, staying completely still and hidden in shadow until my father walks through the wing and slams a door in the distance.
Thoroughly confused about their conversation, I make my way out of the sitting room and down the hall, pausing when I reach the open door to Dylan’s bedroom.
I know better than to bother him, but I love my little brother despite how badly he treats me. And seeing him sitting on the side of the bed with his head so heavy in his hands, I can’t help but reach out.
“Is everything okay?”
His head snaps up and his eyes narrow on me, so much rage in his expression that I flinch in response to it.
“Get the fuck out of here, whore!”
Snatching an empty glass from his bedside table, he launches it at me, the glass shattering into a hundred shards when it hits the wall.
Thankfully, I dodge fast enough to keep from being hit, confusion and fear for Dylan flooding me as I stare at him for a few silent seconds.
He’s so angry all the time.
Mostly at me.
And I have