Selfish. Fucking. Prick.
“I know that look,” Cael says, his voice dragging me back to the present. “Stop thinking about him.”
“He was my fucking twin.”
“I know.” His vibrant irises run over me. “You got all the good traits; he got all the bad. And he’s dead. Let’s focus on the one that matters—your sister.”
I hate when Cael is the voice of reason.
I hate even more that I expected him to sayAshlynat the end of that sentence.
Because my priorities are fucking confused.
I’ve spent a literal lifetime trying to find my sister. I know she’s alive. I can feel it in my soul. Just like I sensed when Spruce was killed.
All I’ve desired is to save her from whatever hell she’s currently experiencing. It’s all I’ve lived for.
Until a few weeks ago when a pair of pretty blue eyes looked up at me from a damn screen.
Fate ensnared me by the knot, and here I am, floundering like a damn pup.
I finish my water and set it on the table, then note that Ashlyn barely touched her food.Fuck. I stand without comment and head toward the bedroom, determined to call her back out here to eat. And maybe to apologize.
Because I hadn’t meant to chastise her.
However, her disappearance brought back some harmful memories.
And for a moment, I thought I’d lost her, too.
“Scared” was too polite a term for how I felt when I learned about her disappearance.
Still, I shouldn’t have commented on her choice of being a martyr.
So, I’ll apologize… then coax her to eat.
Only, as I open the door, I realize she’s already tucked herself in—robe and all—in the middle of my big bed. Her blonde hair is fanned over the pillows, her lashes resting prettily against her porcelain cheeks.
But there’s a lone tear clinging to one of those lashes, the sight of it stirring an ache in my chest.
Did I put that there? Or did something else?I wonder, suddenly wanting to slay whatever made her cry. Myself, included.
Gritting my teeth, I back out of the room and quietly shut the door again, then turn to find Cael right behind me with an intent expression on his face.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Making sure you don’t do something foolish.”
“Like what?” I ask him, suddenly enraged by his lack of trust. “I know how to respect an Omega, Cael.”
He considers me for a moment, nods, and takes two steps back. “I know you do, G. Or you usually do, anyway. But you seem… off your game.”
“Off my game,” I repeat with a snort. “You play games, Cael. Not me.” I move around him, done with this ridiculous conversation. “Don’t you have a sector to run?”
“I do,” he replies, following me back to the kitchen and watching as I start cleaning everything up. “I also came to give you a present.”
“Words of advice?” I guess. “A knife to stab you with?” I look back at him. “Maybe a gun for a new round of target practice, whereby you offer yourself up as said target?”
He huffs a laugh. “Always so creative. And you couldn’t hit me, even if you tried.”
