Chapter 70
SEVENTY
A rtair’s heart thundered against his ribs as he recognized the unmistakable energy pulsing from within the pouch—the Maxen Black Diamond. The family heirloom Ajax had stolen from the gala.
“May I come in?” Calan asked when Artair remained frozen in the doorway.
Artair stepped back wordlessly, every muscle tense as his brother—his dead brother, the ghost who’d haunted him for fifteen years—crossed the threshold.
Calan’s gaze swept the cabin, lingering on Thora, who’d pushed herself upright on the couch despite her weakness.
“You must be the tiger shifter who took a dart for my brother,” Calan observed, nodding toward her with grudging respect. “Guess we’re even—I almost killed you, you almost died saving him.”
“I’d do it again,” Thora replied evenly, her eyes flicking between the identical men.
Artair struggled to process the tornado of emotions whirling through him—joy that his twin lived, rage at the deception, confusion about the diamond’s return, and a soul-deep relief that threatened to buckle his knees.
“Why now?” The question escaped him, raw and unfiltered.
Calan placed the velvet pouch on the coffee table. The diamond’s energy heightened, responding to the presence of both Maxen twins after so many years apart.
“I was at the gala where the diamond was stolen. I remember who I am now,” Calan said simply.
Artair’s breath caught. “What does that mean?”
Thora shifted on the couch, creating space. “Maybe you should sit down. Both of you.”
The brothers glanced at each other, then complied, taking seats on opposite sides of the coffee table. The symmetry of their movements—the identical way they leaned forward, elbows on knees—struck Artair with painful familiarity. How many times had they sat like this as teenagers, plotting adventures or discussing school problems?
“The plane crash,” Calan began, eyes fixed on his clasped hands. “The one that killed our parents. I didn’t die in it.”
“Obviously,” Artair bit out, unable to keep the edge from his voice.
Thora shot him a warning look. Let him speak , her eyes said.
“I was thrown clear before the wreckage burned,” Calan continued. “Found half-dead by a smuggling ring operating in the mountains. I had no memory—complete amnesia. Didn’t know my name, my family, that I was even a shifter—nothing.”
Cold dread settled in Artair’s stomach. “For fifteen years?”
“They called me ‘Hunter.’ Used me as muscle, eventually as a specialist in acquiring... difficult items.” Calan’s mouth twisted. “I became what they made me.”
Artair pictured his twin—confused, identity erased—shaped into a weapon by criminals who recognized his potential. The image sent rage coursing through him. The bear within him roared, demanding retribution against those who had stolen his brother’s life. If those people stood before him now...
Thora must have sensed his anger. She stretched her hand toward him across the space, a silent anchor. He gripped it like a lifeline, her small fingers steadying him in ways she couldn’t possibly understand.
“During the escape after taking the diamond, I hit my head again—not as bad as before, but enough,” Calan continued, touching the scar on his temple. “Memories started returning in fragments. Us as cubs, running through the woods. Mom singing to us. Dad teaching us to shift.”
His voice broke. “The plane taking off that day. I remembered my name, our family... everything.”
The diamond in its pouch pulsed brighter as if responding to their reconnection. Artair stared at his brother—truly seeing him for the first time since he’d opened the door. The hardship etched into his features. The wary way he held himself like a wild animal expecting to be driven off. But beneath that, in the set of his jaw, the tilt of his head—there was the brother he’d mourned.
Fifteen years of grief began to transform inside Artair—not disappearing but changing shape into something he might someday carry with less pain.
“I don’t know how to be anything except what they made me,” Calan admitted. “But I know I can’t keep living that life now that I remember who I was meant to be.”
The response came from Artair’s heart before his head could analyze it: “Then come home. Help me run Maxen Enterprises. We were always meant to lead together—two sides of the same coin.”
He saw hesitation cross his twin’s face before Calan shook his head. “Not yet. There’s something I need to do first—Ajax needs to be stopped.”
Thora snapped her head around. “That would be great. Tell me where he is.”
Calan frowned. “I have to do this on my own,” he replied. “I can’t guarantee anyone else’s safety.”
“You can get a hefty bounty for him,” Thora told him. “It could help you get back on your feet.”