Page 42 of The Reckoning
“You’re not seriously considering letting her go?” Arson demands, leaning forward across the table.
“I’m considering all options,” Aries responds, surprisingly calm in the face of his twin’s intensity. “Including using this as an opportunity to gather information. To find out what they know and what they’re planning.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Arson insists, looking at me now, genuine concern replacing his usual calculated assessment. “You’ve seen what these people are capable of. What they’ve done to both of us.”
The fear rises in my chest, sudden and overwhelming, not just for myself, but for what might happen if I’m forced back into the Hayes fold. If they decide I know too much, have seen too much. If they decide to “treat” my condition more aggressively.
“I’m scared,” I admit, the words barely audible even to my own ears.
It’s a confession I rarely make, having been trained to hide vulnerability and project the strength expected of a Hayes woman. But here, with these two men who’ve seen me at my most raw, my most exposed, there seems little point in pretense.
To my surprise, it’s Arson who moves first, kneeling beside my chair so his eyes are level with mine. “They won’t touch you,” he says, voice soft but vibrating with conviction. “I won’t let them.”
“Neither will I,” Aries adds, his hand still on my shoulder, grip tightening slightly. “Whatever happens, whatever they’re planning—you won’t face it alone.”
It’s a moment of perfect accord between them, the first I’ve witnessed that isn’t built on mutual hatred or reluctant necessity. For this brief instant, they are united in purpose, in protection.
In caring for me.
The realization brings unexpected tears to my eyes, which I blink back hurriedly. “Thank you,” I whisper, looking between them. “Both of you.”
Arson reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face with uncharacteristic gentleness. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
Aries nods, the movement barely perceptible. “A united front,” he agrees, though the words seem to cost him something to say.
The moment stretches, fragile and precious in its unlikelihood. Three broken people, bound by secrets and desires and dangers, finding common ground in the face of a shared enemy.
It won’t last—can’t last, given the history between them, the betrayals are both fresh and ancient. But for now, in this warehouse kitchen, it feels like enough.
Like hope.
“Okay,” I say, straightening in my chair, drawing strength from their twin gazes. “Let’s make a plan.”
I reach for a napkin and a pen left on the table, sketching out a rough layout of the Hayes mansion from memory. “The house will be the easiest part—I know every inch of it, including all the secret passages Richard had built in during the renovation.”
“Secret passages?” Aries looks surprised. “I didn’t know about those.”
“That was the point,” I explain, marking several spots on my crude map. “Richard keeps a lot of secrets, even from family. Especially from the family.”
“Access points?” Arson asks, slipping effortlessly into strategic mode. “Security measures?”
“Three main entrances, all with biometric locks keyed to family members,” I say, indicating them on the drawing. “But there’s a service entrance at the back of the property that only uses a keypad. Code changes weekly.”
“Cameras changed or still the same?” Aries prompts.
“The same, but on a closed system now. If we could get to the control room in the basement, we could loop the feed.” I tap my pen against the table, thinking. “The real problem won’t be getting in—it’s getting out if things go south.”
“You won’t be going in alone,” Arson states, not a suggestion but a fact. “I’ll be with you.”
“As who?” I ask, frowning slightly. “You can’t exactly walk in as yourself.”
“As Aries,” he says simply. “I’ve been playing the role for months. I know all the right notes to hit.”
The real Aries stiffens beside me, his jaw clenching visibly. “You want to keep pretending to be me? In front of her mother?”
“Do you have a better idea?” Arson counters. “You can’t go in looking like you do now. They’d immediately know something was wrong.”
“He’s right,” I say gently, placing a hand on Aries’s arm. “She would take one look at you and know something was wrong. You’ve lost weight, you’re pale, you’re?—”
