32. Brylee
32
brYLEE
“Are you sure it’s okay I’m here with you?” Harper asks for the one millionth time as she smooths her hands down the sides of her skirt.
I snort as I shift the bag of groceries underneath my right arm so I can dig the key to Teddie’s apartment out of my back pocket.
“Trust me. It’s fine.”
“But are you sure?” One million and one times.
Now that Harper knows the truth about my double life, she’s been helping me brainstorm. Last night, we spent hours chatting in my room about ways Brylee and Teddie can both be at the upcoming ball simultaneously. Of course, the conversation dissolved into an interrogation about what I plan to wear on my upcoming date with Luka—which, according to Harper, is immensely more important. Stupid omega priorities.
“Can you hold this for a second?” I pass the bag to Harper and finally dig out my keys with a triumphant grin.
“He’s your twin, right?” Harper asks as I place the key in the lock. “And he’s been on some secret mission or something?”
“Or something.” I haven’t told Harper the explicit details of why I need to pretend to be Teddie. That’s not my secret to share.
Fortunately, Harper doesn’t press as I push open the door, grab the key out of the lock, and skip inside.
“Caran! Teddie! Your favorite omega has arrived,” I call, kicking off my shoes. Harper is much more hesitant as she bends to unstrap her Mary Janes and sets them beside mine on the front mat.
All of the lights are off, which is strange.
Are they not home? We meet every Friday in the afternoon to have dinner and debrief. Maybe they had to stop at the store or something.
I direct Harper to the kitchen, where she immediately begins unloading the grocery bag, ever the docile, sweet omega. She grabs the taco shells out first, then the ground beef, then the seasoning. Tacos are Ted’s favorite, even though Caran grumbles every time I make it, claiming it gives him gas.
Harper and I work in silence, and I continually flick my gaze to the front door, waiting for my brother or his mate to step through.
They don’t.
I bite down on my lower lip as an uneasy feeling arrows through me.
Where are they?
A half hour later, the table has been set, and Harper is wringing the hem of her blouse.
“Maybe they got held up somewhere?” She offers me a reassuring smile, but the ice in my veins refuses to thaw.
“I’m going to check out the rest of the apartment. You stay here,” I instruct, every alarm in my head blaring. Wrong, wrong, wrong, they all seem to scream simultaneously.
Harper gapes at me, her eyes comically wide, and whispers, “What if there’s someone in the apartment with us?”
“Then they would’ve probably murdered us a while ago, when we first started cooking dinner,” I deadpan.
My omega friend narrows her eyes. “Sometimes I hate your twisted sense of humor.”
I snort. “You love it. Just stay here. I’ll be right back. Maybe they left a note for me or something.”
Harper makes a strangled nose. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just stay here…by myself…in an apartment that may or may not have a murderer inside of it. Right.”
“You either watch too many horror movies or don’t watch enough,” I retort as I step into the hallway.
Harper flips me off but doesn’t verbally respond as she begins to clean off the counters, muttering under her breath about “annoying princesses.”
Caran and Teddie’s room is at the end of the hall, and the door is shut.
I hesitantly rap my knuckles against the wood.
“Car? Ted?” My heart pounds in my chest. For the longest moment, there’s no answer, but then I hear a wet, ragged cough from the other side of the door.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I push it open and stumble inside, practically tripping over my own two feet in my haste.
My heart sinks the moment I see him lying there, motionless. The usual playfulness in his features is gone, replaced by a pale, sickly sheen that makes my stomach churn. He’s always been the strong one, the loud one, the one who never let anything slow him down. But now, he’s just…still.
“Teddie?” I whisper, my voice cracking as I walk closer, reaching out to brush the sweaty hair from his forehead. He doesn’t stir, though a tiny bit of blood drips down his chin. Without thinking, I wipe it away with my sleeve.
The silence between us is suffocating, and I can’t help but wonder how long I’ve been ignoring the signs. Why didn’t I notice he’s been getting worse? How long has this been going on?
I think of all the messages I’ve sent him that he hasn’t replied to. While I’ve been bitching about sexy alphas and class work, he’s been fighting for his life. What kind of sister am I that I haven’t noticed? Selfish, selfish, selfish.
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not now. Not while he’s still hanging on by some thread I can barely see. Normally, he’s the strong one, the alpha, but today, that duty falls on me.
I press my fingers to his wrist, praying for a pulse, but all I feel is the faintest thrum, like a whisper of life that can slip away at any moment. His breathing is shallow, uneven. I don’t know what to do. I never thought I’d be in this position, not with him. Not now. He’s been doing so much better the last few months, color reappearing in his cheeks and his smile brighter than ever.
And where the fuck is Caran? Why isn’t he here?
A startled screech reaches my ears.
Harper.
Instantly, I’m on alert, whirling around, my hands raised, ready to defend my twin?—
Caran stands in the bedroom doorway, his face drawn and haggard, dark shadows underscoring his eyes. Behind him is Harper, carrying a…frying pan? She holds it above her head, like she’s preparing to whack Caran with it.
She’s clearly over-caffeinated and taking our earlier conversation about murderers far too seriously.
I subtly shake my head at her, and she drops it immediately with a sheepish smile. That smile fades when she catches sight of Ted, and her face pales. She quietly backs away with a finger pointing toward the kitchen to indicate that she’ll wait for me there.
Caran doesn’t even seem to have noticed Harper—or me, for that matter—as he stalks forward, his features set in grave determination. I’ve seen that expression on his face once before, but the situations were vastly different.
Years ago, before Teddie got sick, I came to visit the two of them, and we decided to play a video game. I don’t remember the name, but I do remember that we had to shoot people. I, of course, sucked, so Teddie and Caran decided unanimously to take me out for the sake of the rest of the team.
“Sorry, little sister,” Ted taunted as his avatar cornered me in an abandoned building. He grinned at me, his eyes alight with mischief. “Any last words?”
“We’re a team!” I protested. “You can’t shoot your teammate.” Of course, I still hadn’t figured out how to do anything but run around in a circle, so my plea was only met with laughter.
And then Caran turned on the couch to face me, his features uncharacteristically solemn. “I’m sorry.”
The bastards shot me, and my character fell in a tangle of limbs.
That expression is on Caran’s face now—the grim, determined set of his lips when he’s wrestling with his guilt.
He doesn’t speak at first, just takes in the scene before him—the pale, sickly image of Teddie, the alpha he loves more than life itself. Without a word, Caran moves to the bedside and pulls a small vial from his pocket. The liquid inside shimmers, and my breath hitches.
“You were able to get more medicine?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. Since Noths are the only ones capable of producing it, it’s nearly impossible to get here, even for the crown prince. Caran must’ve spent a fortune. Or…
I take in his disheveled appearance and the guilt radiating from him in almost tangible waves.
I’ve heard rumors of traders accepting… other things in exchange for the elusive medicine. Organs. Secrets.
Sex.
I swallow around the razor blade that has lodged in my throat.
Caran isn’t…selling himself, is he?
I watch as he brings the vial to Teddie’s lips and helps him drink it, his hands steady despite the chaos in his eyes. The air feels thick, like we’re all holding our breath, waiting for some miracle that may or may not come.
The omega doesn’t look at me, his focus entirely on Teddie. “I have enough medicine to last for a bit, but it’s not enough, Bry.” His voice cracks. “I don’t think it’ll be enough. He’s getting worse.”
“We need to tell my parents. We need?—”
Caran cuts me off, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You don’t think we tried that? When Teddie first got sick, he asked them for help. Begged them. And you want to know what your mother did? She scoffed . She fucking scoffed and told him that they’ll never make a deal with the Noths…not even to save her own son’s life.” His wild, frantic eyes flick around the room, never settling on anything for longer than a second. “So Teddie lied and told them the virus healed all on its own. That he no longer needed their help.”
My lungs… They’re burning. Everything is burning.
No. No. No. My parents are a lot of things, but they would never allow their son to die, not if there’s something they can do to stop it. But this isn’t something Caran would lie about.
“He never told me that,” I whisper, trying to breathe around the noose circling my neck.
“He didn’t want you to know.” Caran laughs humorlessly and forks his fingers through his hair. “He wanted you to have hope.” Another laugh. “But there’s no more hope. Not anymore. Teddie is getting worse and worse, and I’m…” He presses his knuckles to his mouth and bites down.
“Caran…” I reach for him, and he collapses against me instantly, all of that rigid tension from only seconds ago seeping from his body. He sobs against me, and it isn’t long until my tears join his.
My brother, my twin, my other half…is dying.
And I’m beginning to believe there’s nothing we can do to save him.