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“Why are they showing this?” I asked, and the next image I recognized. It was the picture Wells and I had talked about, Ares’s parents and the two babies. One of them was him, the other his twin. I blinked. “Why are they showing Ares’s twin? That’s disrespectful. Why are they showing that?”
The girl was… gone. He hadn’t said how, but I’d assumed, in the moment, she’d passed. He’d been talking like that was the case, so showing her now was completely disrespectful.
My brother’s throat jumped. “You know about her?”
I did, but not really. I mean, I’d just found out.
I faced the screen, and my brother squeezed my shoulder.
“They’re saying that’s you, sis,” he said, my heart pounding. “That girl in the photo? Ares’s twin? They’re saying that’s you, and that you’re a missing person.”
A missing person?
I stared in horror at the TV, that charm on the baby blanket I recognized. It wasn’t on my childhood bracelet, but I definitely recognized it.
Ares wore the same one.
He had that day in the garage, the two charms identical.
Twins.
I sat up, images of me flashing on the screen. They were pictures taken from my social media, my picture and this… missing twin’s photos put together in a side by side. They had my name, Noa Sloane, then her name next to it.
I read that name. Over and over, I read it, and I definitely noticed something.
The name started with a P.
“Pilar Mallick,” my brother said, reading it as I had. He faced me. “They’re saying that’s you, Sloane.” He leaned forward. “They’re saying that’s your name.”
