Page 101 of Two Chambered Heart

The passiveness from the cab ride seeped out of her at the condescension in Kayden’s request. “I’m not a fucking child! Don’t tell me to go away when you got me into this mess!” She kicked her boots off and tossed her jacket on the bench, striding into the kitchen and sitting on the bar stool with her arms crossed. They both followed her in.

She scrambled from the stool again and paced, her fists clenching at her sides, the last light of day shining through the windows. She felt unsteady, jarred from the bubble of safety she’d felt with them.

“I have a right to know.” Corey wanted to kick herself for the pleading in her voice. She shouldn’t have to beg for this.

“She’s kind of right,” the voice—Archie, she guessed—said through the speakerphone.

“Arch, we’ll call you back. We need to manage this.” Kayden clicked the phone off and pocketed it.

Taking a breath, Corey finally asked the question that had been burning a hole through her for the last few months, the question she had previouslydecided she didn’t want the answer to. But now, with a price on her head? She needed to know. “What is it exactly that you two do?”

“No.” Jason turned on her with wickedness in his eyes. “Ask what you really want to know.” She watched him furiously rebuild all the walls she’d successfully destroyed over the last few weeks, could see him retreating back into himself, a mask of cruelty and disdain that she felt bone deep.

“Fine. What’s your involvement in the pharmaceutical industry?”

“We import raw opium and sell to legitimate manufacturers for pharmaceuticals,” Kayden responded, his own face a mask of stone that she’d never seen before.

“And illegitimate black market manufacturers who distribute to the streets.” Jason’s mouth curved in a harsh half-smile. “We’re actually their only source. All the opium in this city, it’s ours. We’re glorified drug dealers, sweetheart. For ten years, we have built an opium empire, secured ourselves as lynchpins in this system. Every opioid overdose in this city is from our opium. And you’ve certainly been enjoying the proceeds of it.”

She could see he was just trying to spit his vitriol at her, ready to hurt her first. But she was good at blowing things up, too.

“Drugs tookeverythingfrom me!” she screamed at him. “You sit up here in your gleaming tower, insulated from the chaos you’ve created. Entire communities are crumbling beneath the weight of addiction! You’re exploiting the weakest, most vulnerable of us for your own gain! And for what? More money? Like you don’t have enough. Is suffering that much of a commodity for you?” It was a rhetorical question, and they seemed to understand that, because they let her continue.

“You’re not out there in the streets where families are breaking down, where lives are being destroyed. Wheremyfamily was destroyed! While futures are stolen by addiction, you’re tucked away in this high-rise fortress, unaffected by the wreckage. I’m sorry you went through hell, but it doesn’t justify this. This city is burning under the opioid epidemic. And you think you can offset it by donating to woman’s health initiatives and organizations?The hypocrisy is truly staggering.” She was running out of air in her lungs. “I can’t get behind this.”

“We don’t need you to. We’ve promised you nothing.” Jason’s voice was granite, unyielding. “I won’t deny myself the sins that keep me feeling alive.”

The rational part of her brain was yelling at her to calm down. The other part of her brain, the part with just as much penchant for self-sabotage as Jason, was mad with malice, a devil on her shoulder urging her on to destruction. She pulled her eyes from Jason. Kayden was standing stock-still, like a predator waiting for his prey to run, for the chase to begin.

“You’re monsters,” she said breathlessly.

Kayden’s lip twitched. It was all that changed in his calm expression, but it was a crack in the marble, a flicker of doubt. It was enough to bring her back from the edge.

She took a long breath and let it out slowly, shaking her head, trying to stop this from escalating more.

“I need space.” She took a step back, trying to maintain control of her breathing and her still-trembling hands.

Kayden was vibrating with the need to go to her, to follow her. She shook her head at him again, more forcefully this time, and he fractured. His face fell, devastation in his eyes, and it was a fissure in her own life force.

Before she could say anything else, hurt him further, she turned on her heels and sprinted to her room. She locked the door from the inside for the first time in a long time, and she slid to the floor, leaning against the door, squeezing her eyes closed as the tears came.

Every thought of running, of escaping the twins, all those thoughts that she’d had when she’d first ended up here, flashed through her mind. But an escape plan wasn’t what she ended up fixating on.

My fault, my fault, my fault.It flashed in her mind like a neon sign.This situation is entirely my fault.

Jason had been right; she had undoubtedly been enjoying the fruits of the drug industry in the last few months. She had become so completely content to let the twins take care of her in a way no one ever had, that she had asked no questions, didn’t think too hard about where their money came from. Even after Kayden had told her it was pharmaceuticals, and even though they’d been at a pharmaceutical gala. She’d known from the first day that the twins’ money was dirty. They’d blown up a fucking house and no one had come knocking on their door. They’d set up a literal torture chamber in a warehouse, for fuck's sake.

She’d ignored those facts,chosento ignore those facts, not looking too closely in case the pieces came together. Hadn’t wanted to see the big picture because for the first time in her life, she’d felt safe.

Drugs may have been the reason her parents burnt their house down and the reason this city was a cesspool of disparity among the classes, but it wasn’t the reason the rest of her life had spiralled out of control. Drugs hadn’t ruined her life. Asshole men had. It wasn’t drugs that had turned Brandon into an abusive fucking prick, it had been money and control. It wasn’t drugs that had led her foster father to abuse children, it had been power and control. When society had failed her so completely, why did she care so much about its ruin?

She knew she had overreacted, a fighting dog lashing out at anyone who opened its cage, even when she’d put herself in the cage and the ones opening the door were her own saviours. This wasn’t all on them.

She needed to talk to the twins. She would, when her brain had calmed down and she could be less confrontational, more convincing in her arguments.

Corey huffed out a tired breath and buried her wet face in her hands, letting her conviction wash through her. She didn’t want to lose this, losethem. It was why she’d refused to take off her rose-coloured glasses.

But now that she’d all but thrown them off, she couldn’t very well put them back on.

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