Page 69 of Split

This is how our story ends.

Death parts us.

My ears ring, my heart thumps. My limp body bounces against his shoulder as he carries me up a set of stairs. A key scrapes in a lock.

He pushes through a door, and suddenly we’re outside, somewhere on the manor grounds. The leaves of the trees rustle in the breeze. The hinges on the old garden gate creak. I lift my head, blinking in confusion at the shadows cast upon the ground by the crumbling gravestones as he steps out of the mausoleum.

We’re in the cemetery.

He’s taking me back to my grave.

I’ve cheated death at his hand many times, so it’s no wonder my luck has finally run out. This life was miserable and far too short, but maybe there’s something better for me waiting on the other side.

The brittle dirt crunches beneath the soles of his shoes as he carries me past a row of headstones. I wonder if I’ll even get one, or if the next Mrs. Volkov will speculate in horror when she sees the fresh grave where he laid me to rest. If I come back as a ghost, perhaps I can warn her somehow. Maybeshecan save herself.

I let my eyes slip closed as I give into the inevitability of my fate.That’s life, he once said.It always ends in death, the only question is when.

A second set of footsteps starts echoing those of the man carrying me, the other twin joining in the march to my demise. We’ve been walking for too long, though, and it suddenly dawns on me that we’re no longer in the cemetery, but treading acrossthe lawn. A spark of hope bursts forth that perhaps this isn’t the end; I’ve been given one more chance.

The shadow of the manor falls over us as he slows to a stop and bends forward to set me back on my feet, my nipples scraping painfully against his thick shoulder as I slide down his body. My toes sink into the frosty grass, his hands gripping my waist to spin me around.

“Look,” he growls into the shell of my ear, then the heat of his body leaves my back as he retreats a step.

I blink chaotically, drawing a sharp gasp when the bloodied corpse on the ground at my feet comes into focus. Jumping backwards in fright, I slap my hands over my face to shield my eyes, my palms muffling my strangled whimper.

“Look at him, Eliza,” the second brother commands as he approaches, his footsteps coming to a stop somewhere just beyond my left shoulder.

“No!” I choke through a sob, pressing my hands tighter to my face. “Youkilledhim!”

“Actually, Knox killed him, but that’s not the point,” he grumbles in response. “Look. His right hand.”

If curiosity killed the cat, nine lives wouldn’t be near enough for me. I’ve expended far more in my quest to unravel the mysteries of the manor, and since I’m still breathing, Ineedto look.

Slowly, I lower my hands from my face, squinting my eyes open to see the soles of Wesley’s shoes. My gaze travels up the dark denim covering his legs, then slides over to focus on his right hand, the shiny black handle of a gun resting in his palm.

My breath hitches, heart thundering in my chest.

Maybe I still have a chance to change this ending.

Lunging forward, I dive for the gun, ripping it away from Wesley’s lifeless hand and whipping around to turn it on the twins. Neither even so much as flinches. One stares back at mecoldly.Roman. The corner of the other’s mouth twitches up in the faintest smirk.Knox.

I put together which was which on the car ride back from their father’s house, matching each persona to their respective demeanors as I observed them. Jekyll likes me in black and refers to me aswife. Jekyll is Roman. Hyde likes when I wear red and calls mepet. Hyde is Knox.

Keeping the barrel of the gun trained in their direction, moving from one to the other, I slowly push up to my feet. “I need answers,” I tell them, much braver now that I’ve realized my life isn’t in danger. If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve done it back in the cemetery.There’s more to this that I’m missing.

“And we’re prepared to give them to you,” Roman answers flatly. “Let’s go inside and we’ll talk.”

“No,right now,” I bite out, narrowing my eyes on him. “Tell me what’s going on or I swear I’ll pull the trigger.”

He frowns, the muscle in his jaw feathering with irritation. “Eliza. It’s freezing out here.”

I glare back at him unblinkingly, refusing to relent. For the first time,Ihold the power.

Itisfreezing, though, and as we continue staring one another down, an icy shiver tracks up my spine, making my hands tremble. My adrenaline is ebbing, my body starting to go into shock.

“You can keep the gun,” Knox offers, evidently growing impatient with me and his brother’s staring contest.

“Fine,” I huff, my breath fogging in front of my face as I wave the tip of the handgun toward the manor. “You first. And only because it’s cold.”

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