Page 217 of Overcast

“Emric.” My other name is softly spoken, and I’d know the difference between the two females even if I was deaf. Stormi’s voice is a damn melody that I’d listen to every day on repeat.

It’d be the only thing to drag me out of my current state of panic and right to her.

She gapes at me with unshed tears in her eyes. The message they’re sending—not going to happen.

She wants me to choose her.

She is asking me to kill her over my sister.

“Not going to happen, sweetheart,” I ground out, my tongue dry from just—no. There would be no fucking way I’d pick my sister over Stormi, my own flesh and blood...how fucked up is that?

In a life or death situation—like right now—it’s something that my body wouldn’t do.

Shit, I’d go put a hole in my head afterward. Like some real Romeo and Juliet shit but bloody and way more fucked up. We didn’t come from opposite families but mistaken identity and two different worlds.

Our story sucks worse.

“You might want to do what she says,” Eli proposes, not missing what short conversation Stormi and I just had. “Did you ever give her a choice?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “And stay out of it.”

“So, be it.” Eli steps backward, ripping the gun out of my hand and placing a good amount of space between us. I’m immediately hauled back by Beavis and Butthead as I watch him march behind Stormi’s chair.

Positioned on either side of my frame, they point their assault rifles at me.

“I told you...if you fucking touch her, Montgomery, I’ll rip your small ass dick off if I can find it.”

Stormi’s hands appear in front of her, and she immediately starts rubbing her red-rimmed wrists. She tips her chin and meets my stare, accepting, scared, and I swear to God if something happens to her...I just can’t.

“Go ahead and stand up,” Eli tells her, offering a hand to help her. She doesn’t accept it, rising on her own and keeping those beautiful irises still on me.

Eli extends his palm, the gun in the same exact spot he offered to me. “Now, you get to choose.”

“What the fuck is this?” I storm. “Fucking tag?”

“Take it,” Eli clips. “Your boyfriend has two assault rifles pointed at—” He doesn’t even finish his bullshit response before she snatches the Smith and Wesson out of his hand.

It’s warming that she’d attempt to save me from having a full clip put into my flesh, but I don’t want her holding it. I also don’t need her to listen to all the dumb ass shit he’s going to say.

Her body begins to tremble, staring down at the deadly object, and I’m losing her.

She’s traveling right back to the place that she was in when I first snatched her up and tortured answers that she never had out of her.

“Stormi,” I assert sternly, gaining her concentration. “Remember who you are now. You’re not weak anymore, you’re strong and gorgeous. You’re fearless as fuck.”

She gives me a half-ass nod, but I’ll accept it as long as she hears me.

“He’s right,” Eli agrees, stepping next to her. “You got two minutes to choose. Pick one of them or none. If you go with the latter, they’ll both die. And you and I–” He flicks his shitty gaze at me. “—I’ll take you with me and show you how amazing I can treat you. With my small dick and everything.”

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