CHAPTER 15
MIA
Zane’s puking his guts out.
I blink, confused, standing in the bathroom doorway as Zane grips the sink like the floor is about to cave in.
The sound is horrible, but what really worries me is the way he takes a deep breath afterward, as if trying to compose himself.
“What happened to you?” I ask, tilting my head.
He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he runs a hand over his face, like he wants to erase the feeling of whatever just happened.
My eyes wander to his shirt, and then I see it. A bloodstain. Small, but definitely there.
I step closer. “There’s blood on your shirt.”
Zane finally looks down, but he doesn’t seem impressed. “It’s not mine.”
Oh, great. That answers absolutely nothing.
I cross my arms, thinking about asking more, but I know he won’t tell me. It could be from training, a fight, anything. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s shown up with random marks. I’ve contributed to a few of them myself. So, I let it slide.
We head to the kitchen, and while he makes coffee, I look around and notice something strange.
“Where’s Olga?”
He pauses for a second in the middle of taking a bite of bread and stares at me like I just spoke a language he doesn’t understand.
“Who?”
I almost choke. “Olga. You never pay attention to people, do you?”
He just shrugs and continues chewing, completely unconcerned. “If it was important, I would remember.”
I roll my eyes. I should be used to his lack of interest in the world around him, but it still amazes me.
Zane watches me for a moment before asking, “Do you want to train today?”
I shake my head immediately. “I’m feeling unwell.”
I lie. I have plans for later. I just need to figure out how I’m going to get rid of him to execute them.
Besides, I’m not in the mood for sweat and struggle and all that stuff about being someone’s teacher. Today, I want something different. I'd rather have coffee and maybe a little gratuitous drama. Or blood. I’ll be spilling blood, but not Zane’s.
I wait for the voices, but they surprisingly abandoned me today. The world feels bright and sunny.
Before the conversation can go anywhere, Zane’s phone vibrates on the table. Charlie. He answers with a tired sigh.
“What now?”
I watch as he listens in silence, the muscles in his jaw twitching. When he finally hangs up, he huffs and runs a hand through his hair.
“I need to go out.”
I smile. Yay! Getting rid of him was quicker than I thought.
But before he leaves, he turns to me, a little red.
“Are we good? About yesterday?”
Does he mean when we had intense sex and I basically passed out in bed next to him, only waking up to the sound of him vomiting the next day?
Well, for my part, I am fine. I know that doesn’t mean we’re going to walk off into the sunset together. There’s still a lot going on.
But we did what we wanted because we needed each other. I understand that.
“Are you better?”
“Yes. Thank you for being there.”
“Wherever you go, I go, I guess,” I say with a smile, throwing his sentence back at him, and he smiles before turning and leaving.
I walk upstairs without rushing, already thinking about what to wear. Something practical, yet pretty. There's nothing like a good dress to add a little color to your day—and maybe test reactions.
I start getting ready, putting on makeup. And finally, I’m ready.
I twirl in front of the mirror, letting the skirt of my yellow dress swirl around me. It’s light, breezy—perfect for a sunny day, like it was made to make me feel like a walking ray of sunshine. The straps are comfortable, and the scoop neckline gives me room to breathe. But the best part? The ruffle at the hem. It sways when I walk, like it’s dancing with me. I slip on a pair of white sneakers, throw a cap on my head, and smile. There you have it. I’ve realized that my tastes veer between Zane’s clothes and dresses. It really depends on my mood. Or the weather, but I like dresses, mostly because they make me feel good.
Anyway.
I look at myself in the mirror once more, then pick up the white bag. Beautiful. This look is perfect for killing that bitch who’s been keeping Zane up at night.
I head toward the car, then pick up my phone and dial the number of someone I know will help me without question.
“Mia? What a surprise,” Abigail says in a sweet tone. I used to resent Abigail until I met her, and now I’m grateful that Zane at least had someone like her in his life.
“I missed you! How’s little Liam?” I ask, and she laughs.
"A big poopy bomb," she replies, giggling.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Don’t even tell me about it.”
“Is Zane with you? Kyle tried to text.”
“He’s busy,” I say, and it’s not a lie.
“Oh, I understand. He’ll call when he’s ready,” she says quietly, but her voice breaks my heart a little. I don’t tell Zane that I’ve been keeping in touch with the people of Evermore in secret. Firstly, because they’d get suspicious if I just disappeared, and secondly, because they’re genuinely nice. I like them all.
“I called to ask a favor, but you’re going to have to trust me and not tell anyone I asked.”
“Okay,” she says in a low voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Everything will be fine once you track down Doctor Rachel Wayne, or better yet, have your husband track her down.”
“Rachel Wayne?” Abby says, confused. “Well, I know her. I don’t think there’s any need to track her down. She works at Goodwin U in the health department. She used to be the nurse at my school.”
Shit, I could’ve googled her name if I knew this information earlier. I do it on instinct, putting Abby on speakerphone, and all the information pops up, including her class schedule. I got you, bitch.
“Thanks, Abby. Give Liam a kiss for me.”
“Sure. Any time... hmm… if you needed help, you would say so, right? You can count on us, Mia, no matter where you came from.”
When the words leave her mouth, I freeze. Something tells me Abby knows I’m Nico’s daughter—or that Seth is Nico’s son—but she doesn’t elaborate.
I shake my mind, because I have more important things to do.
I hang up the phone and take an Uber to the Goodwin U Health building. If I'm not mistaken, Laura also works around here, which means I need to be extra careful not to be seen.
Rachel worked for my father for years, so it's not that strange that she frequents these places. Maybe he sends her to spy, maybe it's just habit.
Rachel Wayne. Doctor Wayne. Whatever. She's already dead; she just doesn't know it yet.
The night wears on slowly, but I’m patient. Outside the school, the parking lot is nearly empty. Cold lights illuminate the cracked asphalt, and Rachel emerges from the side door, clutching her bag, looking exhausted after a long shift. She doesn’t notice me. Why would she? I’m just another shadow among many.
She walks to her car, fumbling for her keys in her purse. Perfect timing. I approach from behind, silent, my footsteps in sync with the sound of a distant car. Before she can react, I slide the soaked cloth against her face.
She struggles, her fingers clawing at my wrist, a muffled sound escaping her throat. I take a deep breath, keeping calm as her body loses its strength, until it finally gives in.
With a little effort, I push her into the passenger seat, adjusting her belt so that she looks like an exhausted woman dozing off after a hard day. I smile to myself as I walk around the car and take the wheel.
The city falls away, the streetlights replaced by the pitch-black road. The forest stretches out around me, silent and patient. When I reach the lake, I stop the car and get out, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the night's humidity on my skin.
Now I just need to decide how I want to end this.
I crouch down and then pull Rachel to look at me, her eyes a mix of fury and fear. “When did you switch from nursing to medicine?”
"What?"
“You were a school nurse, then you became a doctor.”
“I… I went back to college and did a supplement.”
“Interesting, and don’t they teach things like, is it wrong to give in and abuse patients, especially if they’re children?” My voice comes out genuinely curious, and Rachel’s eyes widen.
“Mia…”
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” I say, pulling her hair toward me. “What I’m going to do to you… You’ll be well aware of it.”
The blade glides against Rachel Wayne's skin as if I’m drawing on a delicate canvas, and in a sense, I am. Every cut, every trickle of blood that snakes across her skin is part of the art.
She shivers, her entire body stiff. Her eyes flash with panic, her breath coming in erratic gasps.
"You know, Rachel, I studied a lot to get here," I say as I trace the knife along her arm, very slowly, just enough to open the skin without tearing muscle. "Do you think only people who spend years in college understand how the human body works? I had to teach myself. A self-taught effort, so to speak."
Rachel lets out a choked cry as I press the blade against her collarbone and drag it downward, tearing the skin all the way to the base of her chest.
"For example, did you know that if I cut right here—" I tilt my face and make a precise cut down the side of her abdomen, exposing the bright red flesh, "—you don’t die immediately? In fact, it takes a long time. But it hurts. A lot."
She writhes, her body arching against the restraints, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Her eyes are full of pleading. I roll mine impatiently.
"Oh, don’t make that face! You work in medicine, you know that pain is nothing more than electrical impulses sent to the brain. I mean, it’s kind of tragic that your own field of study is betraying you now, but hey, irony is fun."
She tries to speak, but all she can do is choke out a sob. Her hands tremble, her fingers contracting in involuntary spasms.
"Shhh…" I slide my bloody finger down her face, brushing away a strand of hair stuck to her face with sweat and tears. "I know. I know. But let’s finish this right, okay? I’m going to fix you."
I cup her jaw, tilting her head to the side, exposing the vulnerable curve of her throat. Her pulse leaps beneath her skin, frantic.
"Now, if I cut too deep, you’ll pass out almost instantly. If I miss an angle, you might survive long enough to make more trouble. But…" I bring the blade closer to her skin. "If I’m careful…"
And so, I am.
The knife slides back and forth with surgical precision, not enough to kill her outright, but enough for her blood to start spurting out in hot, scarlet waves.
Rachel gasps, her eyes wide, her hands tugging uselessly against the ropes as a gurgling sound escapes her mouth.
I step back a little, crossing my arms, watching as her life slowly fades away.
"Look, it’s working!" I say excitedly, tilting my head. "They always told me that practice makes perfect."
She tries to breathe, but all that comes out is a wet wheeze. Her body shudders, then begins to sag, growing limper and limper.
And then, finally, she stops.
I sigh, disappointed.
"Wow, Rachel. I was starting to enjoy our talk."
I step back, admiring my handiwork. The blood glistens in the dim moonlight, soaking into the earth around it. It looks almost beautiful.
I smile.
"Now, how about a dip?"
“Not a very smart way to dispose of a body, sis.” The voice behind me sneers, and I turn to find Seth with a sadistic smile, leaning against one of the trees as if he’s been there the whole time.
Damn, I shouldn’t have trusted Abby.
I wash my hands in the river if I'm going to have a boring conversation without coming across as clingy.
"Seriously, Seth? Following me? Next time you're going to pee on me to track me faster?" I glare at him, trying to hide my anger, but it spills over somehow.
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea, but unfortunately, my nose isn’t that great.” He lets out a short laugh, but it’s not an amused one.
He watches my every move with a critical eye, his arms crossed.
“You’ve grown up to be a bore,” I say, trying to ease the tension building between us.
Seth frowns. "And you're hiding something."
I take a deep breath, trying to keep control, but the anger still burns inside. “Maybe the fact that I don’t want you in my life. Too much time has passed. You should move on.” My words come out sharp, almost like a defense.
He doesn't move, just stares at me with an intensity that makes me want to look away. But I won't. "Wrong answer. Try again."
I huff, the weight of the conversation becoming harder by the second.
The sound of the river seems louder now, more irritating, as if it's pressing the words out of me.
“Okay, I had to do this, okay?” I mix truth and lie, trying to make sense of the confusion that’s consuming me. “She hurt Zane, and no one hurts someone I love.” The sentence slips out with cold anger, but the explanation behind it is darker. “I’ve been back for a few days, but I wasn’t really into social interactions. It’s hard to adjust to this new world,” I say, my voice wavering a little at the end, like I’m trying to convince myself, not just him.
Seth watches me with hard eyes, trying to detect the lie between the words.
He takes a step toward me, unhurriedly, but with an uncomfortable certainty in his gaze. “Don’t do that again, Mia.” His voice is grave, a warning.
I laugh humorlessly, forcing a smile. “I know Abby was the one who turned me in.”
Seth doesn't bother to deny it. "She didn't mean any harm," he says, the coldness that always lingers in his voice. "She's not like that. Abigail is extremely sweet, annoyingly nice."
“Well, she sent you to me because she doesn’t trust me. Even the nice ones can backstab you.” Venom escapes my lips, and my voice cracks for a second, but I force my calm back.
“She sent me here because she’s worried about you,” he says, the change in his tone making my stomach turn. “Sis, you’re smarter than this.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “She said, and I quote, ‘Could you check with the health department today? Maybe Mia’s in trouble, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing she’s okay.’”
I'm silent for a moment, the weight of the words hitting me.
I can't be ironic about it. I can't hide from the truth anymore.
Shit, I can't stay mad about this. Not when they actually care.
Seth watches, not pressing me, but I know he's waiting for something. I take a deep breath, trying to push away the anger, but the emptiness inside me doesn't go away.
He still sees me as the Mia he knows, but the Mia I am now, after everything that happened... she doesn't exist anymore.
Seth watches me, his gaze sharp, as if he's waiting for me to slip up.
The river continues to flow in the background, as if mocking the situation. It doesn't move, just stares at me, and the tension between us grows. The smell of blood mixed with earth doesn't help.
“People in Evermore have a tendency to butt into each other’s business. They do it because they care. You learn to get used to it.”
"Who said I want to be part of Evermore? Did you already forget where I come from?"
“You’re not him, Mia. You did what you had to do to survive. That doesn’t make you bad.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“So explain it to me,” he begins, his tone a little more biting now. “ You went on a killing spree and didn’t even invite me? Damn, sis—what a waste of quality bonding time. If you’d stop pushing me away for five seconds, we might’ve actually had some fun. And now I’m supposed to believe you don’t need backup? Seriously?”
I stop for a second, hesitate, but soon the anger comes back with force. “That’s the only thing you know how to do, isn’t it? Thinking you have control over everything. That I need help, that I’m broken. Well, guess what? I don’t need anyone to solve my problems. I never did!”
Seth steps forward, his gaze still defiant. "Sure, you're Superwoman, right? But here, Mia, you're covered in blood, alone in the middle of the woods, and you think everything's fine? You can't just keep pretending everything's fine."
I lift my head, anger mixing with pain. “It’s not about pretending, Seth. I’m really good at dealing with shit, you know that. But that’s not what you want to hear, is it? You want to see me fall, you want to see me fail. Because I’m a stranger to you. And you don’t trust me.”
Seth lets out a low, almost sarcastic laugh. "Is that what you think I want? Geez, Mia. I'm trying to give you a hand here, but you always seem to be running away."
The distance between us seems to grow with every word.
But deep down, I know he's right. He does care, even if he has the most annoying way of showing it.
I look at him, trying not to give in, but frustration swallows me up.
“You don’t understand,” my voice is weaker now, but still filled with pain. “You got your life, okay, you got everything. I got the… darkness, I got the desire to kill, I got the broken brain. I don’t know you, what do you expect me to do? Go back to the way we were when we were ten years old and we were both trying to survive an absurd level of abuse? You got out… I didn’t. We have nothing in common.”
I don't really believe what I'm saying. I just need him to leave. But he won't.
Seth takes a step closer, finally dropping his tough-brother facade.
He places his hand on my shoulder more gently than I expected. “You think I don’t get it, Mia? You think I don’t smell blood like fuel in my veins? Like it’s something that reminds me that I’m alive? You think my head isn’t a dark place? Fuck yeah, it’s so fucked up that I almost broke the thing that mattered most in the world to me in the process. I’m not asking you to be the little girl in the basement who kissed my scars and held me while I cried myself to sleep.” My eyes widen at the mention of our troubled childhood. He remembers. “I’m asking you to be you. But for real. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face.
Seth comes over and wipes them away and then he pulls me into a hug, and I realize how scary it is to see the person who has lived for years in my head is real. It's tangible.
And when I don't want to lose it. I can't lose it.
All those years I thought he was dead, part of me died with him.
“I love you, One,” I whisper. “Even if you don’t trust me.”
I don't wait for him to say it back. Because I'm starting to understand that One isn't programmed for that. And then he looks at me.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe,” he whispers, holding me tight against him, and I know those words aren’t I love you, but they make me feel like they are.
I feel a lump in my throat, the anger transformed into something more broken. I feel like I've been swallowed by reality, and now I'm not as strong anymore.
I give a dry laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Do you really think I’m capable of asking for help?”
Seth smiles, that smile that’s so characteristic of him—teasing, but genuine. “You know, Mia, I think so. I think you just need a little push. And, look, you could use some tips on knife precision and how you could have done a better job.”
I look at him and then snort. “My accuracy was perfect. I'm way better than you, who was always messy with the prey.”
“Organization isn’t really my strong point. We have Harvin for that.”
“Taylor’s husband,” I comment without thinking, and Seth looks at me confused.
“Yeah, kind of. Do you know him?”
“No, but I feel like I do,” I say without elaborating, and he shrugs.
"Come on, let's get this body sorted out. I'm staying here, even if you hate me for it."
I laugh weakly, a sound that escapes unintentionally, because in the end, it doesn't matter how much we try to fight.
Deep down, he's still my twin. And somehow, even through everything, that still means something.
“Seth…”
“Huh?”
“Next time, try not to find me covered in blood, okay?”
He smirks, his eyes twinkling with silent amusement. “I’ll try. Just don’t start hiding again, okay?”
I sigh.
Evading my brother is going to be harder than I thought.