Page 200 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

For hours, we’d bombarded him with questions, which turned out to be a pointless and infuriating exercise because unlike his twin brother, Luka wasn’t a big talker.

He was more of a glowerer.

Sun god, he was even quieter than Orion, who at least mouthed responses most of the time.

Luka didn’t pretend to care that someone was talking to him. He was perfectly content ignoring everyone.

Even as he jogged beside me, his lips were pulled tight in a scowl, dark eyes stormy.

How had I ever thought he was John? They looked bizarrely identical, but their personalities were like night and day.

John shone with brightness.

Luka was shades of black.

A wave of melancholy hit me, and I staggered from the force of missing John. No wonder Mr. Hyde had always put me on edge.

He wasn’t my friend.

I rubbed at the bruises under my eyes as my legs pumped faster.

My skin pinched as my stitches pulled.

I wished Luka would open up so I could at least figure out if John was okay. Where did he go? How did they travel? Why did they conceal their identities? Why all the secrecy?

So many questions.

No answers.

I stretched my head to the side as we rounded the bend and tried to ignore the tightness in my neck muscles.

I’d slept on the floor in an awkward ball.

At least it hadn’t been cold.

I’d woken up with a pillow under my head and a cozy blanket tucked around me. I’d gone to bed with nothing but a sweatshirt under my head, so I assumed a servant had seen me on the floor and brought me stuff in the middle of the night.

I didn’t know how much I depended on John until he was gone.

Everything that had happened between us still couldn’t detract from what he was to me.

My rock.

I spent my days sleeping beside John and sitting next to him at every meal. He was my running partner and confidant and the person I turned to for a laugh or a hug.

John was everything that made the academy bearable.

Now I was painfully alone.

I glanced up at Luka under my lashes, and it hurt how much he looked like John. He was a sad substitute.

Luka hadn’t said a single word all run. Meanwhile I’d spent the first ten miles explaining in excruciating detail every second of the punishment. I’d told him everything that had gone down between John and me. I’d left nothing out.

I owed him that much.

I’d finished the story miles ago, and Luka still hadn’t responded.

Was he waiting for an apology?

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