Chapter 24 #2
Erica starts walking toward me, slow and measured, hands raised like she’s wading into a storm she helped create.
“Noah, baby. Calm down.”
I jump off the bed before she gets too close and snatch the nearest shirt off the floor, shoving my arms through the sleeves. It’s Gabriel’s, but I’m too pissed off to care. It hangs almost to my knees.
“America!” I snap, voice catching. “Tell me. The goddamn. Truth!”
Each word bursts out of me, breath short, chest heaving like the air’s too thick to swallow. I sound like an asthmatic—which I’m not.
Gabriel, wisely, seizes the standoff as a moment to recover, scrambling into his pants. He stays shirtless, but at least now his dick is covered.
“You’ve always been too soft, Noah.” My sister chuckles, her eyes dragging down to my semi peeking out from the bottom of the shirt as I gather the material in my fist. Then she smirks. “Well, obviously not at the moment.”
And then… she laughs.
My fucking sister actually laughs. The one thing we’ve never been able to do.
This isn’t relief. Or joy. Or anything close.
This is—
And just like that, it clicks.
I recognize exactly who I’m dealing with.
Meera and Mimi.
Both of them.
At once.
Pressed into the same moment.
My fists clench. My jaw aches from grinding my teeth. My legs—those traitorous trembling legs—feel like they might collapse beneath me as I take a step back, needing space, needing air, needing… something that makes sense.
But nothing does.
My skin feels too tight. My heart’s pounding a hole in my chest. My head is spinning with names and lies and truths that came too late.
Alex.
Ana.
Emilee.
America.
Erica.
Mimi.
Meera.
Mother. Mother. Motherrr!
I rub my hands over my face, but it doesn’t help. I’m not even sure I’m breathing anymore. The edges of the room blur. My ears ring.
“I can’t,” I whisper to no one.
And then louder—
“I can’t.”
My sister’s calculating eyes slide back to Gabriel, now standing beside the bed, watching this twisted little play unfold like he’s unsure of his role.
“Why don’t you tell your boyfriend about Alex.” She directs her vitriol toward me, her voice low and poisonous. Her gaze flicks to Gabriel, then back to me. “Go ahead… tell him.”
“Don’t!” I bark, whipping my head toward her. My voice cracks under the weight of panic.
I glance at Gabriel—eyes wide, pleading—begging him not to go there. I’m not breathing right. I think I might actually pass out.
She takes a step closer to me. There’s a smile pressed across her beautiful face like a mask. One I’ve seen a thousand times before. But for him—only him—our father. I know her expressions. I’ve studied them since I was a little boy. But this one? This one feels wrong.
Without saying a word, she unlocks her phone and shoves it in my face.
A video starts playing.
She turns down the volume fast—but not before a sultry, unmistakable moan slips out.
“Ooooo…”
My stomach drops straight through the floor. My guilty eyes shoot up to Gabriel’s. I’m gonna be sick.
He can’t see the screen from where he’s standing—but I’m pretty sure he knows that moan.
Erica leans in close, her breath warm against my ear. I flinch. Tears burn behind my eyes.
“Don’t,” I whisper, voice cracking, barely recognizable. “Please don’t.”
My eyes dart between them—Gabriel frozen, America still smirking—and I swear I feel the world tilt beneath my feet.
Gabriel suddenly surges forward, fury breaking through his shock.
“Get out of here, Mimi! Leave Noah the fuck alone!”
I watch it unfold all in slow motion. He’s trying. I know he is. And I love him for it—for standing between me and my sister—me and… myself. But here’s the thing… You can’t protect someone from a person you don’t know. Or people, for that matter. Not really.
Not when you remember the girl she pretended to be.
The one who pulled you in with her charm and talent, who could turn danger into a dream.
In a twisted way, that version of my sister was my favorite.
She wore secrets like perfume, each one a layer of armor, each smile a knife.
It’s how she survived. It’s how we both survived.
Dissociative identity disorder. You don’t live through what we did without becoming a master of survival.
Trust me, Gabriel has no fucking clue who he’s dealing with.
Only I do.
And still… I love her.
Even right now, as they stand together in the same body, neither willing to step aside.
She turns toward him with that smile—that knife—and purrs. Chills crawl up my spine like fingers gripping each knob of bone.
“Mmm… I can see why he likes you, Gabriel. I mean, besides that gorgeous dick, of course.” Those brilliant-green eyes spark like fireworks, dancing with malice. Her fingertips tap, tap, tap against her phone case.
“So… twink is your jam now, huh?” she says with a light laugh. “Honestly, I’m surprised… after that hunk of a man you were married to.”
Then her eyes slide over to me, slow and cruel. Calculating.
“Although my brother is certainly pretty, isn’t he?”
And just when I think it can’t get any worse, she releases my nightmare.
“Our father definitely thought so.”
Silence. Heavy.
Gabriel shifts beside me, stiff and stunned, his mouth half open—but no sound comes out.
I can’t breathe. Not because of what she said. But because part of me still remembers the way the door clicked shut behind him. The hush. His cologne. Her eyes on mine—focused. Ready. Waiting.
My right arm twitches at my side. Fingers flex.
Contract. Spasm. Panic rockets through my system, zapping every nerve like I’ve been struck by lightning.
I shake out my arm—once, twice—but it’s no use.
It’s numb. I’m numb. My mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out but drool.
Whispers of air squeeze through my lips in a feeble attempt to say something… anything.
Nothing.
“Alex,” I manage to wheeze, the name rasping off my tongue like it weighs a thousand pounds.
I lock eyes with Gabriel—pleading, shaking, silent. I need him to understand. I’m trying to warn him. And reach him. Beg him to find Alex. To get the fuck out of here. To still look at me just the same. To not trust her. To not hurt her—my sister.
Please don’t hurt America.
I part my lips one last time, searching for breath—just one more shot at words—but it doesn’t come.
Nothing comes.
The world tilts, and I fall—
Hard.
Everything goes black before I even hit the floor.