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1.The Commander
Skylenna
“Cat got your tongue, brother?”
Collectively, we all look to Dessin with our jaws dragging across the brimstone floor. They look alike; that much is obvious. But it’s so clear that their surroundings were different. Their upbringings turned them into separate creatures.
Kaspias Valdawell doesn’t have that warmth in his dark brown eyes. There isn’t that beating heart buried within his cold gaze. He’s almost…hard to look at. In the dim light of the yellow and red bulbs, I make out the uneven layer of skin on his face and neck. Scars that cover more scars. A beard and black ink lining under his eyes. He’s big, strong, rigid with bulging muscles like Dessin, but there’s something sick about how he looks at his twin brother.
A twisted eagerness to cause him pain.
“We were told you were stillborn.” Dessin doesn’t blink.
Kaspias smiles for several creepy seconds. “So, I’ve heard. It’s a little sad how easy it is for Vexamen spies to invade your delicate city, isn’t it? I was taken the moment I was pulled from our mother and brought to my new home.”
“Did they—experiment on you?” Dessin asks.
“I am not like you and your”—he taps two fingers to his temple—“horde of personalities. If they raise you without compassion, it makes the subject harder to break.”
“There are two of you?!” Niles blurts out in disgust, eyes darting back and forth between each twin.
“Niles,” Ruth warns under her breath.
I can’t even look away to shoot Niles a scolding glare. Kaspias was taken as a baby. A baby. An infant directly from birth. Sophia didn’t even have a chance to hold him for the first time.
Dessin releases a quick breath. “You’re one of them. A soldier in the Vexamen Breed.”
I want to reach my hand between the bars and touch him. Let him know I’m here for him. He doesn’t have to process this news alone.
“I am a commander in the Vexamen Breed.” Kaspias runs a curious hand through his short beard. “And you’re an experiment that went wrong. A product of insanity. A test subject that was released into the public.”
Has he kept an eye on Dessin all these years? The thought triggers a tickle of a memory beneath the surface. I try not to get lost in it as I let it suck me in. Darkness swallows me quicker than expected, and I’m tossed into the forest. The scent of rain sinking into the dirt and pine trees swirling around me. Dessin is on the motorcycle, and Past Skylenna clutches his waist. We’re outrunning—someone. Another motorcycle. A figure that wouldn’t show their face.
Dessin fishtails the bike and throws his legs out to kick the stalker off their seat. They flee the scene before the person chasing them removes their helmet.
I see the beard first, and dread sinks into my gut. Kaspias has been following us. Watching us.
I’m back in my cage, knees painfully pressed against the jagged brimstone, blinking away the memory that threw off my equilibrium. How long has this been going on? Did Dessin really not have any idea that this was a possibility?
“You were the one that set the hunter’s trap I fell into with the nadaskar. And the person on the motorcycle who chased us after we left the asylum to go find Ruth.” A painful chill runs down my back as Kaspias blinks. And the moment he opens his eyes again, they’re on me. Dark and hollow.
“Skylenna,” he says as if testing the feel of my name on his tongue. “The other lab rat. How could you possibly know I was behind the hunter’s trap?”
I stare at him. Too proud to break the long moment of eye contact even though I’m severely uncomfortable.
“You saw it in your head, didn’t you?” he pushes.
I look back at Dessin, whose jaw is so tightly clenched; I wouldn’t be surprised if he breaks a tooth.
“Has he not given his little pet permission to speak? Is that why you’re looking to him? For approval?” His words scrape against my skin like sandpaper.
Dessin is on his feet, quick and dangerous, like a heart attack. “You may be my blood, but make no mistake. I’ll rip out your tongue if you speak to her that way again.”
I stand slowly, noting how little clothing I have on. A red one-piece…brassiere and panties. They’re connected with a metal shackle around my throat. The neckline is deep and plunging, the sides are hanging loose in shreds along my hips, and the back is entirely open with a halter around my neck. I peek over at Ruth and Marilynn. We’re all dressed this way. What a strange contrast from the white patient gowns in the asylum.
“She’s your lover.” Kaspias raises an eyebrow. “I couldn’t tell. You were close but never…touched. Must be exhausting, threatening every man that looks at her with hunger in his eyes. She is enticing, isn’t she?”
“I am not his pet, and he does not speak for me. I’ll gladly cut that tongue out myself,” I say with a level of calm that is both disturbing and confident.
