Page 1 of Zachary

CHAPTER ONE

Ronan

FEBRUARY

I standon the sidewalk and stare up at the building, ignoring the people jostling past me as they go about their lives. If I don’t go in soon, I’ll be late for my appointment with Brandt, but I can’t seem to make my feet move.

It’s not because I don’t want to see Brandt—I do. Ever since that first meeting, when I looked at him andknewthat he could make everything okay, I’ve always been eager to spend time in his company. I grew up with people doting on me, and I thought I knew what it was to belong, but I didn’t—not until Brandt walked into the room—a room in this building—and a part of me I didn’t even know was hurting cried out in relief.

Yet I still ignored it. For days, I ignored it. For days I clung to the lies I’d been raised on. To the memory of the people I thought cared about me. Until it was impossible to pretend any longer that my whole life hadn’t been one giant fabrication, a charade meant to keep me docile and feed my rage against those I thought were my enemies—my own people.

My own brother.

The very people I was trying to hurt.

That broke me.

And every time I walk into this building, I’m flooded with guilt for the pain I caused. Guilt for the things done by those who raised me. Even though I’ve tried so hard, worked so hard to atone for those things over the past five years, this building brings all my shame crashing back.

I think Brandt knows, which is why we usually meet at Here Be Dragons, the estate outside the city that’s the home base for all dragonkind, and why he apologized twice when he called to ask me to meet him here today. Which just adds to my guilt—Brandt should never have to apologize to me for anything. Not when I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the trouble I caused.

So I guess I shouldn’t keep him waiting.

Sucking in a deep breath, I force my right foot to take the first step. That’s always the hardest one.

Over these past years, anytime I’ve faced a situation I didn’t want to walk into—and there have been many—I’ve always coached myself through the first step and found that the others came easier. Just like now. Across the sidewalk. Through the main door. The huge building lobby. There’s even an elevator waiting, doors open, so I don’t need to slow my momentum. I just step right in and make myself hit the button for the right floor. This is fine. I’m doing this.

Then I make the mistake of glancing up toward the other occupants of the elevator. Two are human and stare disinterestedly at their phones. The other two are not.

The incubus stares at me with wide eyes and presses himself back into the corner. I guess he’s had a run-in with Steffen in the past and isn’t eager to repeat the experience. My identical twin can be… abrasive.

More guilt floods me as I remember why.

The elf, on the other hand, watches me with slightly narrowed eyes. I know him—well, I recognize him. He was therethat day. One of the security team that responded when Wil sent out the intruder alert. He knows Steffen personally, works with him, and can tell the difference between us, now that I wear my hair a little longer.

I nod slightly and look away but can still feel his gaze burning into me. I don’t blame him for not trusting me. Very few people know my story, and I doubt he’s one of them. Only those with the highest security clearance and need-to-know status were told. Of course, with me and Steffen being identical, it was necessary to saysomething, but the official story is that I’m Steffen’s long-lost twin brother—which is true—and that, while trying to meet him for the first time, had foolishly not announced myself. People thought I was him, and I just went with it.

Which is also true… mostly. At the time, I was going out of my way to make people think I was him. Regardless, I’m pretty sure this particular elf knows he didn’t get the full story and doesn’t trust me for a second. I don’t blame him.

The elevator stops at my floor and the doors ding as they open. I step out and walk toward the reception desk. It’s manned by a very cute elf who I know from my few previous visits is also very sassy. The elf from the elevator also gets off, but instead of swiping himself through the security gates into the main office or heading toward one of the meeting rooms, he moves into my line of vision, folds his arms across his chest, and hovers.

Message received, loud and clear.

The receptionist—Dáithí—looks up as I approach, does a double-take, then smiles. “Ronan, right? Brandt said you were coming in. Take a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you.” The words are hoarse, and I clear my throat and smile back at him. He blinks, and I know from other peopletelling me in the past that he’s surprised to see “Steffen’s” face smiling.

I turn toward the row of visitor chairs, and Dáithí snaps, “What’s your problem? Stop loitering in my space and go pretend you do some work around here.”

Sitting, I peer surreptitiously at the security elf, who raises a brow at Dáithí but doesn’t move or speak. He’s basically between me and the reception desk right now, ready to strike if I… yell at Dáithí for the wait?

I mean, I know he’s thinking along the lines of something more serious, and I really, really don’t blame him—he has cause—but he just heard Dáithí say Brandt’s expecting me.

“Ugh!” Dáithí throws up his hands in exasperation, then grabs—

I blink. Is he spraying the elf with a water bottle?

“Hey!” Yep, the security elf is stepping back, hands up in defense against the water. “Quit that!”

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