EIGHT

DANTE

The bag took another hit. Then another. My knuckles were already bleeding through the tape but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop. If I stopped I'd have to think and thinking was worse than the pain radiating up my arms.

Five in the morning and I'd been down here for two hours already. Sleep was a joke. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Rafael's face. Heard his voice from when we were kids, when things were simple and we knew each other so well we didn't need words.

The twin bond was supposed to be unbreakable. Some mystical bullshit people talked about, how twins could sense each other across distances, know when the other was in pain. I'd always thought it was exaggerated until Rafael died and suddenly there was this absence inside me that nothing could fill. Like someone had cut off a limb I didn't know I needed until it was gone.

I hit the bag harder. The chain rattled. Sweat ran down my back.

Rafael should be here. Should be the one getting married, playing house with the Corsini girl, building whatever future he'd been so desperate for. Instead he was in the ground and I was stuck with his widow sleeping down the hall in a room I'd deliberately put as far from mine as possible.

Thalia.

I didn't want to think about her but my brain went there anyway. She'd been in the security office yesterday, asking questions she had no business asking. The guards reported it to me immediately. Said she'd wanted to see the footage, wanted to know what they'd found.

She was going to get herself killed poking around like that.

Part of me thought good, let her. Let whoever wanted her dead finish the job. Then this whole nightmare would be over and I could stop pretending to be married to the woman my brother died protecting.

But another part of me, a part I refused to examine too closely, had immediately checked the security detail around her room. Had made sure someone was watching the hallways. Had done everything I could to keep her safe without actually having to interact with her.

I hated that part of myself.

The bag swung back and I caught it, held it still. My reflection in the mirrored wall showed someone I barely recognized. Face harder than it used to be. Eyes that looked dead even to me. This was what grief did. Carved you out from the inside until there was nothing soft left.

I thought about Thalia again even though I didn't want to. The worst part was she was beautiful. I'd noticed it during the wedding ceremony even though I'd tried not to. The way her hair caught the light. The curve of her neck. How small she looked standing next to me, like I could break her without trying.

And knowing she'd been in the hallway last night, probably in those pajamas I'd seen her wear, hair down, close enough to touch if I'd opened the door. My brain had gone somewhere it had no business going. Imagining what she'd look like if I did open that door. If I pulled her inside instead of sending her away. What sounds she'd make if I pushed her against the wall and showed her exactly what being my wife could mean. How her skin would feel under my hands, how she'd taste, how tight she'd be if I...

I punched the bag hard enough that the chain groaned. What the hell was wrong with me? She was Rafael's. Would always be Rafael's even if he was dead. And I hated everything she represented. Hated that my brother had died for her. Hated that I was stuck with her now. Hated that some traitorous part of my body didn't care about any of that and just noticed how good she looked and how she smelled like jasmine and something clean.

I hit the bag again. And again. Trying to beat the thoughts out of my head.

"You're going to break your hands if you keep that up."

I turned. Marco stood in the doorway, already dressed for the day even though the sun wasn't fully up yet. He looked tired. Everyone in this house looked tired lately.

"Then I'll break them," I said.

Marco came into the gym, closed the door behind him. "We need to talk."

"So talk."

He watched me for a minute, probably trying to figure out how to say whatever he needed to say without setting me off. Good luck with that. Everything set me off these days.

"Your wife was in the security office yesterday," he finally said.

"I know. The guards told me."

"She's asking questions about the investigation. About the footage."

"I know that too." I grabbed a towel, wiped sweat off my face. "You tell her anything?"

"Just that we're handling it. That she needs to stay out of it." Marco leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "She didn't take it well."

"She doesn't get a choice."

"She thinks we're not really investigating. That we're just managing the political situation."

I looked at him. "Is she wrong?"

Marco's jaw tightened. "We're doing what we can. You know how complicated this is. Every move we make affects the alliance. We can't just interrogate people without considering the consequences."

"So we're prioritizing politics over finding Rafael's killer."

"We're prioritizing keeping both families from going to war. That's what Rafael died for. Or have you forgotten?"

The anger that lived in my chest all the time flared hot. "I haven't forgotten a single goddamn thing. But my brother is dead and someone in this house helped make it happen. Someone with access codes. Someone who knew exactly how to disable our security. And instead of tearing this place apart until we find them, we're tiptoeing around and managing information."

"Because tearing the place apart would make us vulnerable and even probably start a war. Is that what you want?" Marco pushed off the wall, came closer. "I know you're angry. You have every right to be. But you need to think clearly here. We're investigating. Quietly. Carefully. We'll find who did this."

"When? After they succeed in killing Thalia? After someone else dies?"

"We have security on her. She's protected."

"Like Rafael was protected?" The words came out harsh. "Like our supposedly impenetrable compound kept my brother safe?"

Marco flinched. Good. He should flinch. He'd been head of security that night. Those were his men who took eleven minutes to respond. His system that got disabled.

"I failed Rafael," Marco said quietly. "I know that. I live with it every day. But I'm trying to make it right."

"You can't make it right. He's dead."

We stood there in silence. The gym felt too small suddenly, like the walls were closing in. I wanted to hit something again but Marco was right, my hands were destroyed. Any more and I'd actually break bones.

"There's something else," Marco said after a minute. "The security footage from that night. We reviewed it frame by frame."

I went very still. "And?"

"There's a three second gap. Someone walks past a camera near the bedroom wing when they were supposed to be somewhere else."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you that because for some godforsaken reason its not in the footage." Marco's expression was grim. "But we're getting closer. I promise you that."

"Your promises don't mean shit to me right now."

He took that hit without reacting. Probably because he knew it was true. "Fair enough. But I need you to keep Thalia away from the investigation. She's going to get herself hurt if she keeps digging."

"She's not my responsibility."

"She's your wife."

"On paper. That's it." I grabbed my water bottle, drank half of it. "You want her controlled, you do it. I'm done playing babysitter."

"Dante."

"I mean it. I didn't want this marriage. I don't want her living down the hall. I don't want any of this. So don't ask me to suddenly start caring about what she does or doesn't do."

Marco studied me with an expression I couldn't read. "You're lying."

"Excuse me?"

"You do care. Or you wouldn't have increased security around her room. Wouldn't have made sure the guards know to watch her movements. Wouldn't have checked in three times yesterday to confirm her location." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't bullshit me. I've known you since you were born."

I wanted to deny it but the words stuck in my throat. Because he was right. I had done all those things. Had made sure Thalia was protected even though I claimed not to care.

It was instinct. Had to be. The same instinct that made Rafael throw himself in front of bullets. Some stupid protective drive that came with marriage, even fake marriages built on politics and death.

"It doesn't mean anything," I said finally.

"Keep telling yourself that."

"It doesn't. She's a responsibility. That's it. I make sure she doesn't die because her death would destroy the alliance. It's strategic, not personal."

"Right. Strategic." Marco headed for the door, then paused. "For what it's worth, I think Rafael would be glad you're protecting her. Even if you're too stubborn to admit you're doing it."

He left before I could respond.

I stood alone in the gym, breathing hard, hands throbbing. The sun was starting to come up outside the windows, weak light filtering through.

Rafael would be glad.

The thought made something twist in my chest that felt dangerously close to grief. Real grief, not the anger I'd been using to cover it up.

My brother died thinking he was saving his wife. Died believing the marriage he'd agreed to would lead somewhere better. And now I was stuck living the life he should have had, protecting the woman he'd died for, pretending any of this made sense.

I grabbed my phone and pulled up the security app. Found the camera feed for the hallway outside Thalia's room. She was still asleep. I could see the crack of light under her door, the empty corridor outside.

Safe. She was safe.

I closed the app and hated myself for checking.

This was going to drive me insane. Having her here, so close, and being constantly aware of her. Where she was. What she was doing. If she was safe.

I needed to stay away from her. Needed to maintain distance and remember that she was Rafael's, would always be Rafael's, and any thoughts I had about her were a betrayal of everything my brother died for.

The phantom limb feeling in my chest ached. Like Rafael was still here, still connected to me somehow, still able to feel my thoughts.

I wondered if he could. If some part of him was watching and judging and disgusted that his twin was protecting his widow while simultaneously having thoughts about her that had nothing to do with duty.

I grabbed my stuff and headed for the showers. Cold water. That would help. Clear my head. Wash away the sweat and the anger and whatever else was brewing that I refused to name.

When I got in, I turned the water colder until it almost hurt.

This was Rafael's fault somehow. If he hadn't died, if he'd just stayed out of the way, none of this would be happening. I wouldn't be stuck with these contradictions, protecting someone I claimed to hate, checking security feeds at three in the morning to make sure she was still breathing.

Except I couldn't blame him. He was my twin. My other half. The better version of me who'd been good and kind and everything I wasn't.

So I'd keep blaming her instead. Thalia. The reason all of this happened.

That was easier than admitting I was terrified she'd end up like Rafael. Dead because of this alliance. Dead because I failed to protect her the way I'd failed to protect him.