“It’s almost time for another bracelet, sunshine,” he told me, ignoring my sister. He pocketed the teeth, watching me with an impenetrable mask.
Kingston—my protector—had been our bodyguard, keeping our virtues intact and protected, only for the highest bidder to buy it like we were a pair of prized horses. Except he was so much more than that.
He was everything to me.
My eyes fell to bruises on his neck and his busted knuckles, and I couldn’t help but wonder—how much did our virtue cost him?
My heart pounded in my chest. My ears rang. My vision dimmed.
I was too late to save her. I was too late to save him. A scream tore through the air. The world went pitch-black.
“KINGSTON!” I bellowed, my eyes snapping open. My damp hair plastered against my forehead, my chest tightening and making it hard to breathe.
Next to me, Kingston startled awake. “What’s the matter, sunshine?”
His fingers brushed my damp hair while I squeezed my eyes shut, the distorted and confusing memories about my twin and me flashing behind my closed lids. My temples pulsed, a throbbing ache piercing my skull.
I wrapped my arms around my stomach, rocking back and forth. Shivers racked through me, nightmares that I didn’t understand plaguing me.
Turning on my side, I rocked back and forth, soothing myself the only way I had for the past eight years. Kingston’s fingers traced my nape, circling around gently as if following invisible lines.
“W-what… are you… doing?” My teeth chattered, making it hard to speak.
“Tracing your tattoo.”
My eyes found his over my shoulder with knitted brows. “I… d-don’t have… a tattoo.”
“You do,” he assured me, his voice warm and soothing. “I’m touching it right now.”
Gasping for air and overcome with emotions, sobs took over. My gaps in memory alarmed me with each passing day. I should remember getting a tattoo. I should remember Kingston.
“What’s happening to me?” I croaked through sobs, images that made no sense flashing through my mind.
My stomach churned with nausea. I brought my fingers to my temples, pressing them while shivers racked through me. I wheezed, trying to ground myself. I struggled to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. In and out.
“Louisa, look at me.” Kingston’s arms wrapped around me.
“It’s… It’s Liana,” I stuttered, unable to control my tremors. “I’m… Liana,” I wheezed. It all became too much. Or maybe I was losing my mind. Blood pounded between my ears, a shrill ringing sound growing with each heartbeat, making it impossible to grasp my thoughts. My eyes found his and I cried, “C-can’t you see it, Kingston? I’m Liana, not Louisa.”
His lips brushed against my temple, whispering words I couldn’t understand through my panic attack.
“Just breathe, sunshine.”
He pulled me into his lap, rocking me back and forth, and I buried my face in his neck, crying until sleep pulled me under.
Nothing made sense anymore. Or maybe it was that everything finally did.
Chapter 51Kingston
Louisa fell back asleep in my arms, her mouth tight and her breathing shallow. I smoothed a hand over her brow, still not believing she was Lou.
My Lou.
All this time, she was alive and breathing. So she didn’t remember me or our shared past, fine. I’d help her remember—someway, somehow. The main thing was that she was here. With me. In my bed.
Her sick mother must have put her through some extensive torture for her mind to be so damaged. Her trauma, combined with Sofia’s brainwashing, had convinced Louisa she was her twin. Did that mean Liana was dead?
There was no telling what torture Sofia put Lou through. She might have injected Lou with so much guilt that her mind snapped, and the only way Lou could cope was by convincing herself she was Liana.
My jaw clenched.
Guilt gnawed at me at the realization that I’d failed her, not once but twice. I couldn’t protect her in the dungeon, and then I left her at her mother’s mercy. It didn’t matter that I thought she died in front of me, witnessing her brutal torture at the hands of Sofia and her men.
I ran a hand through my hair and pulled on the ends. What the hell should I do? I could tell her she wasn’t Liana, that she was my Lou, but I didn’t think she was in any state to hear it.
Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I quickly typed a message to Dante Leone, a member of the Thorns of Omertà, the organization I usually did bidding for.
Me: I need the name and number of your therapist.
His reply was instant despite the time of night.
Dante: I don’t have a therapist.
I rolled my eyes.
Me: Just send me the name and number.
Dante: Are you finally dealing with your shit? I’m proud of you.
Dante Leone could be such a prick. Fun to hunt and kill pricks with, but thoroughly annoying.
Me: Stop wasting my time.
Dante: Why did you ghost us?
Me: Are you sending me the fucking name and number or not?
Dante: Don’t get your panties in a twist. Coming right up.
The next message was a shared contact. Dr. Violet Freud, PhD from Harvard. I didn’t waste any time booking Lou for an immediate session.
By morning, I’d talked the shrink into flying out here—well, I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse that involved many zeros, but that was neither here nor there.
Careful not to wake Louisa up, I slid out of bed, showered, then got dressed and made my way to the helicopter pad. The sun was just rising over the horizon, and no matter how many times I came to my property in the Mediterranean, the sight never failed to impress me.
Today, it meant more than ever. This was what the two of us dreamt about. Living on the beach where the cold would never find us. Away from the world. Safe from the world.
The rich tang of the slightly salty air swirled around me. I loved this island. It had become the only place I considered home, now more than ever.
I heard the helicopter before I saw it. I watched Alexei, the only man I trusted with the coordinates, land the bird on the helipad. The moment it touched down, Dr. Violet Freud emerged.
“Mr. Ashford,” she greeted me. “Next time you pull this shit, don’t expect me to come running. I don’t care how much you offer me, I don’t appreciate being strong-armed.” Alexei came up behind her, and she shot him a glare. “And don’t send scary people like him to pick me up.”
Putting my hands behind my back, I dipped my chin. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“You do that,” she snapped, pushing her gold-rimmed glasses up her nose and meeting my gaze. “Now tell me more about the patient.”
“Louisa seems to be struggling with some sort of deep memory loss.” From my periphery, I saw Alexei’s body lean forward, his expression curious. I gestured for the doctor to walk ahead, then steered us in the direction of the house. “She has.” I cleared my throat before continuing. “Had a twin. She seems to think she’s her.”
“Identical twins?”
“Yes.”
“How long has she thought this?”
I pushed my hand through my hair, forcing my feet to keep moving. “I don’t know.” I pretended all this wasn’t cutting through me. “Until last night, I thought Louisa was dead.”
Dr. Freud reached for her glasses, her hand shaking. She must feel out of her element, but to her credit, she hid it well.
“Are you certain she’s the twin you believe her to be?”
“Yes, damn it.”
“How can you be so sure?” My jaw clenched and it took everything in me not to snap. “After all, you believed her to be the other twin until yesterday. It’s easy to confuse identical twins.”