52. Mila
MILA
T he first of my senses to return is, unfortunately, smell.
The air smells like death. Bleeding, pungent death. Like a body burnt to a crisp.
I groan as pain blooms behind my eyes, my skull throbbing and my head groggy. I try to sit up, tugging on my hands that are bound to a metal chair.
Fuck! Bella!
My eyes snap open, peering around the space.
I’m no longer at the cottage. I’m in a house. Or what’s left of it. The walls are burnt to a crisp, the old wallpaper peeling and stained with years of rain leaking through the hole in the roof.
Tears fall from my eyes as the panic takes over. Am I in the cabin where Christian’s mother died?
This is not happening.
“CHRISTIAN!”
“Screaming won’t help.”
I freeze, my blood running cold at the voice behind me.
“Sebastian . . .”
His lips tip up in a smirk.
“Hello, Mila.”
He steps forward into the light, his gaze unfeeling as he watches me struggle against the chains that bind me. It’s like looking at a replica of my husband, only with the knowledge that something isn’t right.
“What do you want, dickhead?”
“So feisty. I can see why my brother was so obsessed with you. He always did think with his cock.” His gaze roams over my body in a sick, sadistic way.
I stare at him in confusion, tears welling in my eyes.
“Was?”
He chuckles under his breath, grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, you didn’t know? Shame.”
Please . . . anything but that.
“It seems he couldn’t survive two more gunshot wounds to the chest.” He shakes his head. “If only I knew that the first time.”
“He’s . . . dead?”
I refuse to believe it. Not my Christian.
“You should really be so proud of him. The idiot thought he could save you.” My heart feels like it’s being ripped in two. This can’t be real.
Sebastian steps around the circle of light, his hands in his pockets as he examines me like an experiment. His cold gaze is demeaning as it rakes over me, from my sneakers up to the mats in my hair.
“So young to be a widow,” he asks, shaking his head. “It really is unfortunate that I had to be the one to do that to you.”
“What did you do ?” I lunge for him, a growl ripping from my throat, only to fall to the floor when the chains rip me back. “What did you do to him?”
Sebastian’s gaze is unfeeling as a sob wracks through me. He kneels in front of me, his face so much like that of the man I love that it’s haunting.
It’s not the same, though. They may be twins, but Sebastian doesn’t have the scar down his cheek like Christian. He doesn’t have the fire in his eyes or the rough growl of his voice. He doesn’t smell the same, and his eyes aren’t the right shade of blue, like the ocean glistening off the rocks of Shipwreck Island. He’ll never be half the man Christian is.
“You’re pathetic,” I grind. “You are nothing compared to him.”
“You sound so much like my dear, sweet mother,” he sneers. “She used to hate me. Compare me to Christian at every chance she got. I was the smaller twin. The twin who preferred books over sports. Do you think she loved me?”
“I think it would be hard to love a sadistic psychopath.”
He smiles.
“Tell me,” he stops, kneeling in front of me. “Do you know where we are?”
My stomach turns at the deeply disturbed look in his eyes.
“No? Well, look around you. My mother took her last breaths in this house.” His gaze flicks down at the damaged floor. “Right where you’re sitting. You should feel honored I’m letting you go out the poetic way.” He brushes his fingers along my face, and I bend away from his touch. “Sadly, you won’t be the first, and you definitely won’t be the last.”
My mouth runs dry as everything falls into place.
I blink through the tears clinging to my lashes, a year’s worth of questions finally getting answers.
“You did this because you hate him . . . didn’t you?”
He stares at me for a long moment.
Then, a broad, shark-toothed grin spreads across his face, sending my heart plummeting.
“Very, very good, Mila.” He claps his hands, the sound echoing in the container. “Now, ask me the plan so I can tell you. It’s a good one.”
I look up at him through watery lashes, wishing that I could wrap the ropes binding my hands around his neck. I’ve never wanted to kill another human being until this very moment. “Fuck you.”
“Oh, we’ll get to that. I always did love the sound of your agony.” He shrugs. “Maybe you’ll find a purpose in life after all.”
He shakes his head, continuing his earlier pacing.
“It’s really quite simple; I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet.”
“What’s it matter?” I shrug. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”
He rolls his eyes, his shoulder slumping.
“Oh, come on,” he growls. “Where’s that fight? You wouldn’t want Christian to think you’ve given up, have you?”
If he’s safe, I don’t care what he thinks of me.
Ironic, huh?
“You made him think you were dead. For years, he’s thought it was his fault, but no, it was you, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, semantics.” He waves a hand. “My dear big brother. The golden child. You know, everyone thought he would do big things.”
He comes to a stop in front of me, crouching down.
“Sadly, this time, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep you alive.” His eyes roam over my body, disgust entering his gaze. “You smell like him.”
“He’s going to kill you,” I breathe. “You won’t live long enough to revel in your revenge.”
He smiles, a big toothy grin.
“You’re assuming he survived.”
My chest aches, but I refuse to believe that Christian is dead.
“You’re assuming he didn’t.”
A silence falls over the air between us, and his eye twitches. I can see I’ve gotten under his skin, so I push a little further.
“Christian is stronger, isn’t he? He’s survived your bullet before. He’ll do it again. That’s why he’s the golden child.” I scoff. “You could never live up to him. That’s why your mother didn’t love you as much as she loved him. And Sebastian . . . well, you know what they say about twins? One’s always a dud.”
His dark, evil laugh sends chills down my spine when his phone vibrates in his pocket.
“Seems your time’s run out, dear Mila.” Stalking away from me, he grabs a fiery red gas can from somewhere behind me. With a maniacal grin, he holds it up for me to see.
Oh, this is bad.
“You know, I’ve got to say, I’m glad he chose you. You’re turning out to be a great sister-in-law.”
“Can’t say the same,” I grit through my teeth when he rips the top off the jug.
Oh, this is really bad.
“Shame. I’ve always preferred blondes.”
The smell of gas burns the inside of my nose.
Sebastian splashes it around the room and the old, broken structure seems to sway around me.
“Christian . . .” I cough from the smell of the fumes when he raises a lit match into the air with a feral smile.
“Bye bye, Mila. Give my mother my blessing.”