Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Koen
The sight of her stops me dead in my tracks.
My little thief stands there, partly blocked from view by Sylus’s back. He’s positioned in front of her, but the little I can see is enough to make my stomach drop. She’s wearing a Harrington Heights uniform that’s way too big for her, and her hair is a mess, strands sticking out every which way. She’s utterly disheveled, worn out.
But God, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Every ounce of caution I’ve held onto shatters in an instant. She ran headfirst into danger to bring my brother to me. No questions asked, no hesitation. And if she’s willing to risk everything for me, then what the hell am I waiting for? I’m done being careful. I’m done holding back.
I need her.
Sylus turns, catching sight of me, and there’s a smirk on his face as he steps aside, but I barely register it. All I see is her. A tired smile tugs at her lips as she lifts her gaze to meet mine when I come to stand in front of her.
“Levi?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
“Still unconscious but safe, thanks to you.”
“Good.” A long breath leaves her, her shoulders dropping. “That’s good.” Her eyes flick around the room, then back to me. “So… where’s the bathroom in this big-ass mansion?” she teases, a hint of humor trying to break through the exhaustion. “I don’t want to bleed all over your marble flo—”
“Forget being careful,” I cut her off and step in front of her. My fingers brush her hair back over her shoulder before my palm cups the side of her neck, my thumb resting against her cheek. Her eyes widen, her breath catching as she looks up at me.
She’s here. Bruised, battered, but unbroken. Still standing. Still fighting. And all I can think is how much I want to be the one she leans on, the one she trusts enough to fall into. “I’d rather crash and burn than never try.”
My other hand moves, brushing her hair back from the opposite side, and I let my fingers slide down to her throat as my thumb tilts her chin up. I don’t give her a chance to reply. I close the distance between us, my mouth crashing against hers. She lets out a soft gasp, her hands gripping my shirt, fingers curling into the fabric, pulling me closer. I deepen the kiss, my thumb brushing along her jaw, my other hand cradling the back of her neck, keeping her close, anchoring her to me.
I want her to feel everything I’ve kept hidden—every ounce of fear, hope, and longing that’s been clawing at me. I pour it all into the kiss, every raw, desperate emotion, and when she clings to me just as fiercely, I know she feels it too. She makes me want to tear down every barrier, to let her see all the messy, broken parts of me because somehow, I know she won’t run.
When we finally pull apart, her eyes are still closed, her lips parted slightly, while her breath mingles with mine.
“Well…” her eyelashes flutter open, and she looks up at me, a small, dazed smile tugging at her lips, “… that’s one way to make a point.”
Resting my forehead against hers, I let out a breathless chuckle, my thumb still brushing her jaw. “Sorry it took so long.”
Sylus steps in behind her, his hands sliding around her waist in a possessive hold, pulling her against his chest so she’s sandwiched between us.
I lift my gaze, locking eyes with him over her head. “You planning to fight me for her?”
I don’t want to fight him, not really, not after she said she wouldn’t want us to anyway. But if it meant keeping her—I’d fight.
“Can you share?” Sylus arches a brow.
I let out a dry laugh. “I’m a fucking twin , Sy.”
“Right.” He pulls her even closer to him. “But can you share with me ?”
I glance down at Glitter, her eyes filled with curiosity as if she’s waiting for my answer just as much as Sylus is. She fits so perfectly between us, and something inside me eases, some last remnant of hesitation or fear melting away.
My gaze shifts back to Sylus. “Yeah.” I nod. “I guess I can.”
“Then I’m not gonna fight you.” Sylus’s answering grin spans from ear to ear. “You’d lose anyway. I’d be more worried if she wanted to fight me on it.”
“Can you stop that shit already?” I chuckle, my thumb still stroking her jaw. “But yeah, I bet she’d kick your ass.”
“Guys, I’m still bleeding.” Glitter lets out an exasperated sigh, her eyes flicking between us. “Can we do something about that, please? My head is all woozy already.”
What the fuck?
“You’re bleeding?” My heart drops into my stomach, and I immediately take a step back, my eyes scanning her for any sign of injury.
“Yep.” She glances down at her upper arm, where there’s what looks like a bullet graze. The wound itself seems as if it’s stopped actively bleeding, though it must’ve bled a lot earlier, judging by her uniform. It’s stained with blood, the discoloration is only hard to notice thanks to the deep red fabric.
How could I have missed that?
“Why didn’t you say something?”
She gives me a look. “You have to listen when I speak, Koen.”
“All of me listens when you speak,” I murmur and take her hand, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Go sit down, and I’ll get Alaric to look at you.”
“Alaric can do that?” she asks, a small furrow forming between her brows.
Sylus grins. “He’s our own little nurse.”
“He’s not…” I glare at him, “… but he can clean and stitch that wound. Trust me, he knows what he’s doing.”
Glitter’s expression flickers with uncertainty, her lips pressing together for a moment. “Okay…”
“We could take you to a hospital if you want.” I offer her the option. She’s been through enough, and if she doesn’t want some half-assed patch job, I get it. “It’s your call.”
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Sylus interrupts, his tone laced with amusement. “Considering Sparkle here is kind of on the run from the police.”
I freeze, my eyes snapping to hers. “What?”
“Well…” Glitter starts, glancing between us, her smile awkward as she lifts her shoulders in a small shrug—only for her face to twist in pain from the movement. She winces, then presses out, “More like on the run from Ezra… after I punched him in the face.”
Both Sylus and I gape at her, stunned.
“ What ?” Her eyes gleam with that spark of mischief I adore. “He said he still owed me one.”
Sylus lets out a bark of laughter. “God, I love you.” He nudges her forward, guiding her toward the living room.
To my unconscious twin—the one she saved.
And to my former best friend. The one I’ve both missed and hated in equal measure for the last thirteen years. Yet here he is, back in this house, also because of her.
Sylus and her walk out of sight, and reality sharply pulls me back.
She’s hurt and needs Alaric.
I take the stairs two at a time to get upstairs to his room. When I reach his door, I knock. Once. Twice.
No answer.
“Ric, we need you.” I knock again, louder. “Glitter’s hurt. She got shot in the arm, and she’s bleeding. I need you to get your set and stitch her up.”
Still nothing. The silence that greets me is tense, heavy.
Dammit, Ric.
I twist the knob and push his door open, stepping inside. The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn tightly against the outside world. Alaric sits on the bed, his fists balled, his jaw clenched so tightly I can see the muscles twitch beneath his skin. His eyes are pressed closed, and he’s breathing heavily.
Did Nicholas being here trigger him that badly?
I thought he was fine when they first met.
I step closer, watching him. His posture is rigid, his shoulders hunched forward. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at me. He’s locked in whatever battle is raging in his head, and it’s as if I’m not even here.
I cross the room, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. The reaction is instant. He jerks back, his eyes snapping open, filled with something raw—fear, pain, and anger all swirl together in a chaotic storm. He looks at me, and it’s obvious he’s teetering on the edge, barely keeping it together.
“Ric. Glitter is hurt. She got shot …” I pause, letting the words sink in before I repeat, “I need you to clean the wound, stop the bleeding, and stitch her up.”
“I can’t,” he whispers, his voice so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the sound of his uneven breathing.
“Ric,” I try again, leaning down so I’m at eye level with him. “You know I love you like a brother, and I never push you. But right now, I need you to get over your shit.” I keep my tone calm, though the words themselves are anything but. “She saved Levi. Your brother . And she’s hurt. We can’t take her to a hospital. We need you.”
I don’t want to coerce him with hypnosis, but dammit, I will if I have to.
He looks at me, his expression twisted in agony. His eyes are pleading, his jaw working as he tries to find the words. “Koen, I—”
“ I need you ,” I repeat. “This family needs you. Can you do this for us? For her?”
He bites his cheek, his eyes closing for a moment as he takes a shaky breath. I can see it, the battle inside him, the struggle.
But then, resolve straightens his posture, and slowly, he nods. His eyes open, and he pushes himself stiffly up from the bed before he walks to the other side of the room and crouches down to pull something from beneath his drawer—a black medical kit.
Alaric straightens and turns to face me. When his eyes lock onto mine, there’s an unmistakable flash of reproach. It feels like he’s about to say something, but then his jaw clenches, and without a word, he steps past me, brushing by as he leaves the room.
I know I’m acting like an asshole. I know what this is costing him.
But he’s doing it anyway.
And right now, that’s all I need.
Novalee
The sight of Levi lying unconscious on the couch hits me hard. My heart sinks seeing him so still, his face bruised, but at the same time, it swells with relief. He’s here, and he’s safe.
All that shit was worth it.
My gaze shifts, finding Nicholas sitting in an armchair beside Levi, his forest green eyes already fixed on me. A sob escapes me before I even realize it. He really did it. Despite everything, he kept his word and got Levi out—for me.
All the exhaustion, the fear, the anxiety, everything crashes over me at once. My legs move, and I find myself rushing toward Nicholas before I almost collapse into his lap, throwing my arms around his neck in a fierce hug.
He tenses at first, his arms hovering uncertainly, but when I murmur, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he slowly wraps them around me, hugging me back. I wince as his arm brushes my injured one, and he immediately pulls back.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he leans back, searching my eyes.
“I will be,” I manage, but fuck it hurts.
Let’s hope Alaric is able to fix me up.
With lots of painkillers.
But damn, it will be awkward seeing him for the first time after we spilled our guts over text.
Before I have a chance to settle, Sylus is there, lifting me off Nicholas’s lap with his hands under my armpits.
Sylus sits down in the armchair opposite Nicholas, positioning me on his lap instead, his arms winding protectively around me.
Right. He doesn’t like Nicholas.
He presses a kiss to the side of my throat, then rests his chin on my uninjured shoulder. I lean back into him, letting his warmth calm the tremors running through my body.
Nicholas’s gaze moves between us, and I see the flicker of hurt that crosses his eyes. “So, you two are… together?”
Sylus doesn’t hesitate. “Yep,” he says, popping the p before leaning in to kiss my temple, daring Nicholas to react.
I give Nicholas a small nod, watching as his face hardens, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“I’m with Koen too,” I add, ensuring everything is out in the open, and I don’t have to hurt him with that knowledge anew later.
Koen…
It’s new, raw, something I’m not entirely sure about yet, but it feels right.
I could have died today. But I didn’t.
I still could sometime soon while maneuvering through this mess, so why hold back any longer? Being theirs feels surprisingly right, and they don’t make me choose. Not between them, not between anything. They want me, and I let myself want this now.
Nicholas’s eyes widen. “Your cousin ?”
“Shit, Harrington .” Sylus bursts into laughter, shaking his head. “She’s not Koen’s cousin.”
“Of course not.” Nicholas huffs bitterly while his ears turn adorably red. His gaze drops to his hands. “Why would anything you said be true?”
“It wasn’t all a lie.” The words feel hollow, but I mean them. Not everything I told him was deceitful. Most parts were real, painfully real. I understand why he doesn’t believe me, why he can’t see that messy truth. But it doesn’t make it any less true or hurtful, knowing I’m the one who did this to him.
I’m the one who lied.
“Yeah, sure.” He pushes himself up to stand and probably leave. “Fuck all of this.”
I try to stand, too, to keep him from leaving, but putting weight on my arm to push off of Sylus’s lap sends a sharp, searing pain through me. A hiss slips out as I fall back against Sylus.
God, it hurts, and I’m feeling so damn woozy.
“You okay, Sparkle?” Sylus murmurs. He lifts his hand to my cheek, stroking it softly with the knuckle of his forefinger.
“He calls you Sparkle , Koen calls you Glitter …” Nicholas’s gaze snaps back to us. “You told me your name was Rosie, but Alaric didn’t know it at all. What is it now? Does anyone even know your real name?”
The question cuts deep.
No one knows all of me.
And that’s on me. Maybe I’ve kept those pieces buried so long that I’ve even forgotten how to share them. It’s easier to hide, to keep the world at arm’s length. To lie, even when I wish I could tell the truth.
But before I can answer Nicholas, a voice cuts through the tension. A voice so clear, so achingly familiar, that it freezes me in place. It’s as if a ghost has come to life, resurrected from the depths of my nightmares and dreams, the ones I carry around with my scars.
“ I know her name.”
My heart stops, time itself seeming to still.
That voice.
I’ve heard it in my head a thousand times, whispered in my sleep, echoing in moments I could barely stand to remember. And now, it sends a cold, electric shock through my veins. I turn, my breath catching somewhere in my throat, my body numb.
No. It can’t be.
And yet, there he is.
Standing in the doorway next to Koen, holding a black suitcase. He looks different— older, worn, but still like home. Like the boy I loved, like every whispered promise of a future that never came.
Because I know him in a way that defies reason or explanation. I know every line, every dip, every dimple. I know what his smile used to look like when it was for me, what his laughter felt like on my skin.
His ice-blue eyes pierce into mine, the same eyes that have haunted me for eight long years. Eyes I thought I’d never see again. My whole body trembles, and I see that he’s trembling, too, as if neither of us can believe this is real.
Oh my God.
My world shatters, and the pieces fall in slow motion. Everything I thought I knew, the years of grief, the endless cycles of guilt, it all comes crashing down, scattering around me like glitter.
How?
I feel weak, but I can’t look away from him.
This can’t be real. It can’t be…
“Ace?” I don’t even know if I said it out loud or if it’s simply the echo of my heart screaming for him.
Everything seems to slow down. The rush of voices, the sounds around me, even the beating of my heart.
He looks at me, eyes filled with something I can’t place.
But it’s not love, and it’s certainly not joy.
It’s an emotion I haven’t seen on his face before.
And then he says it.
A single word that leaves my breath caught in my chest.
One name.
“Rosalee.”
My stomach plummets. What?