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Chapter 124-THE UNQUIET MIDDLE.
Last Updated:
2025-08-06 20:06:16
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Twice His Wife Chapter 132- THE CANYON.
The canyon walls kept the night close, the shadows pressed in like heavy cloth. Anaïs couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t even tried. She sat with her back against the buggy’s fender, knees up, rifle across her lap, and listened to the soft hiss of wind through the rock.Julien had taken first watch, pacing a slow perimeter with his head tilted, always listening for the sounds that didn’t belong. Maris had crawled into the back of the second vehicle, the glow of her wristpad faint under the tarp. Cassian sat on the opposite side of the camp, a silhouette against the starlight.For a long time, neither of them moved.Finally, he spoke without turning his head.“You should get at least an hour.”“I’m fine.”“You’re not fine. You’re wired so tight you’ll snap the second the sun comes up.”She glanced at him, but his eyes were still on the canyon mouth. “If I sleep, I’ll see her,” Anaïs said.That earned the faintest shift in his expression. “And if you don’t, you’ll still see her. Just with your
Twice His Wife Chapter 131- LINES IN THE DIRT.
Aster’s movement was a blur — not the kind that came from speed alone, but the kind that came from knowing exactly where the other person would be before they got there. Anaïs shifted her weight to counter, firing as she stepped sideways, but the shot went wide. Aster was already inside her range.The rifle became dead weight. Anaïs let it fall, her hand closing around the sidearm at her thigh. Aster’s arm shot out, fingers snapping around her wrist before she could draw. The two of them locked, muscles taut, boots grinding against rusted rails.“Still hesitating,” Aster murmured, low enough to make it sound like an observation, not an insult.Anaïs twisted hard, breaking the grip, and drove her elbow toward Aster’s ribs. The other woman caught it on her forearm, turning the impact into a pivot that brought them chest to chest. Anaïs smelled dust, sweat, and the faint chemical tang of Aster’s coat. Close enough to feel the slow, steady beat of her breathing. Unshaken. Always unshaken.
Twice His Wife Chapter 130-WHERE THE SIGNAL BREAKS.
The moment Anaïs saw the shift in Aster’s gaze, she knew the plan had a leak. Not a big one. Not enough to stop her from walking straight into the yard. But enough to make every second from here on razor-thin.Aster’s eyes flicked from the shadowed east wing to Julien, then back again, as though measuring which was the greater threat. Her mouth curved faintly. She lifted her hand, and the convoy stopped dead.Cassian’s head turned fractionally at the pause. Even bound, even bruised from the trip, he read the change in her posture. The hunt had narrowed. She wasn’t hunting Julien anymore — she was hunting Anaïs.Julien moved first.“Let him go,” his voice rang across the empty space, hard enough to slice through the thrum of engines. “This isn’t between you and him.”Aster didn’t even glance at him. “Everything is between me and him,” she said. “And between me and her.”Her gaze burned through the east wing wall. Anaïs didn’t flinch, but she eased her finger nearer to the trigger. Her
Twice His Wife Chapter 129-THE CHOICE IN THE YARD.
Chapter 121The first light of dawn barely touched the horizon when Anaïs stepped outside, boots sinking into the wet grass. The cold was sharp, the kind that slid straight into bone, but the air was clean in a way the house no longer was. Behind her, Monteluna stood with its windows dark and its walls holding the last warmth of the night. She didn’t look back for long. The decision was made.Cassian emerged next, the rifle slung across his back, his breath visible in the chill. He didn’t speak. He never did in these first moments before a move — it was as though words would fracture the concentration holding him taut. Crane came after him, carrying a pack heavier than his frame should allow, the straps cutting into his shoulders. Maris followed last, the drive tucked inside a shockproof case pressed close to her chest, as though she could will it into invincibility.The child was awake but quiet, her small hands tucked into the pockets of Anaïs’s coat. She had not cried since the exp
Twice His Wife Chapter 128- THE MESSENGER.
The man’s suit was the wrong color for the road—charcoal in the sunlight, the kind that made heat ripple off the shoulders. No dust on his shoes, no sweat on his brow. He stood like the world belonged to him and he had all the time in it.Anaïs stopped three paces away.“You took your time,” he said.She didn’t answer.His eyes moved past her, toward the house. She knew Cassian and the others were just silhouettes at that distance, but it didn’t matter—he’d already marked every one of them.“You have something that belongs to us,” he said.“No,” Anaïs said. “I have something you tried to erase.”The corner of his mouth lifted. “Is that what Julien told you?”“You sent me my father’s death certificate.”“I sent you a courtesy. Proof. An invitation.”Her pulse was steady now. Too steady. She had the sensation she sometimes got right before stepping into cold water—knowing the shock was coming, bracing for it anyway.“What does she want?” Anaïs asked.He smiled wider. “You.”For a moment
Twice His Wife Chapter 127-THE NAMES WE DO NOT SAY.
Chapter 118 — Names We Don’t SayThe farmhouse was too quiet.Crane stood near the window, his hand resting lightly on the sill, watching the distant silhouette of Monteluna’s boundary wall. Beyond it, the land stretched wide and sun-bleached under the late afternoon sky. Dust clung to the edges of the cracked glass. Inside, the others were scattered in separate rooms, each pretending to be busy, none of them actually at peace.Julien had taken the child outside earlier, saying something about helping him find a feather. Crane had wanted to stop them—he didn’t like the boy wandering too far from the house—but he hadn’t. There was something sacred about that child’s laugh when it did come, rare as it was, cutting through the weight everyone else carried like a blade through fog.Cassian hadn’t spoken since breakfast. Not really. He’d asked if there was coffee. He’d read over Julien’s notes again. He’d cleaned his gun.Anaïs was somewhere upstairs, supposedly resting. He doubted she was
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