Page 68 of Blood and Lies (A Twisted Duet 1)

“For what?”

“For my reward.”

“There should be enough paper to keep you busy for a while.”

She smiled. “Actually, I used it all.”

“You did?” I lifted a brow.

“Yup. The chalk, too.” She shrugged. “Drawing soothes me, and God knows I needed a lot of soothing. It also helps me sort through my thoughts whenever I feel confused.”

“What are you confused about?”

This time she lifted her eyebrow, and it almost reached her hairline. “Are you seriously asking me that question? What I’m confused about?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question.”

Pushing myself off the wall, I walked over to the sheet of paper and noticed all the others pushed halfway under the bed.

“What did you draw?”

“Yeah, that’s another good question.”

I glanced at her as I picked up the first sheet. “You don’t know what you drew?”

“I kind of space out when I draw.”

I snickered. “Space out?”

A faint blush spread across her cheeks. “It’s an artist thing.”

“I’m sure it is.” I looked at the piece of paper I picked up and swallowed hard when I stared at the image.

Lines and circles, light and dark shadows, it all came together in a portrait of…me. My heart stammered, my chest suddenly feeling too small for the way my heart swelled. Except…it wasn’t me. There was no scar. The portrait she drew was of my brother.

“It’s Carlo.”

I dropped the sheet and picked up the others. Sheet after sheet was the same damn image.

Carlo. Carlo. Carlo. Every damn picture was of him.

Fire. Red. Everything inside me blazed, my vision nothing but red. I was right. She didn’t see me. She saw my fucking brother every time she looked at me.

There were so many sheets of paper, and after what felt like the fiftieth one, I tossed the rest on the ground and stood.

“It’s my brother. Of course it’s my brother.”

“Maybe it’s you.”

I glared at her and laughed maniacally. “Nice try. But for those images to be me, your drawings lack one specific thing.” I pointed at my scar, and her eyes grew wide. “None of your drawings has this on it.”

She stepped forward. “Castello—”

I grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back before shoving her face against the wall. “When will you goddamn learn? It’s ‘sir.’”

She struggled against me. “I told you, only when we play.”

“Yeah?” I leaned down toward her ear. “Who says I haven’t been playing this entire time?”

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