All Chapters of Twice You: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

I wake as if emerging from deep water, layers of sleep dissolving one by one. The first sensation is touch — long, patient fingers sliding through my hair with that hypnotic cadence only Harvey possesses, as if I were something precious and he had all the time in the world to contemplate me. The warmth of his chest against my back is a familiar anchor, and the unmistakable scent — honeysuckle, expensive tobacco, and something purely masculine — fills my lungs.For a few blessed seconds, I float in this bubble of false security. I don’t think about anything beyond the crooked peace I find in his arms, the way my body fits perfectly against his, the quiet that only exists when I’m exactly where I shouldn’t be.Then I feel it.It isn’t a sound. It isn’t a movement. It’s that primitive awareness of being watched, a subtle shift in the pressure of the air

The kitchen still smells of burnt coffee when Zion takes Claire to school. I stand at the window, watching the car disappear around the curve in the road, my heart tight in a way I can’t quite name. When I turn around, Declan is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, jaw locked the way it always is when he’s holding a war inside himself. Harvey sits at the table, far too calm, as if the world hadn’t been turned upside down in the last few hours.“She’s gone,” I say, my voice low. “Now we need to talk for real.”Declan lets out a short, tired breath through his nose.“Let’s do it. Before I change my mind.”I sit between the two of them, feeling the weight of every glance. Harvey doesn’t try to touch me. Declan doesn’t either. The space between the three of us is something alive, dangerous, full of things none of us yet know how to name.“If we’re going to do this,” Declan begins, his voice rough from a night spent swallowing pride, “we’re going to do it right. For her. Clai

Declan CallahanI’ve been awake for almost an hour when she starts moaning.Evie sleeps on her side, face buried in the pillow, her body already sweating despite the cold air in the room. At first it’s just uneven breathing. Then comes the low, almost inaudible moan. I freeze.“Declan…”My name comes out hoarse, full of arousal. My cock hardens instantly beneath the sheets.But she doesn’t stop there.“Harvey… fuck… Declan… Harvey…”Both names spill out intertwined, desperate, while her body shifts slightly against the mattress. She’s dreaming. Dreaming about the two of us. And coming in the dream.I lie there watching her, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. Her hand grips the sheet tightly, her hips give a small thrust against nothing, and she moans louder, almost a sob of pleasure.“Declan… Harvey…”Fuck.I run a hand over my face, trying to control the anger rising hot in my chest. It isn’t pure jealousy. It’s something deeper. More dangerous. After we accepted that she belongs to bot

The trip to Boston is made under strict discretion. We leave Dublin shortly after midnight on a private jet registered under a shell company. I wear a short brown wig, non-prescription glasses, and a loose coat that helps disguise any recognizable features. Declan travels as a European executive — clean-shaven and dressed in a dark suit that makes him almost unrecognizable. Harvey opts for a more subdued look: hair slicked back, long overcoat, and dark sunglasses even at night. None of us speak much during takeoff.The air inside the cabin still carries the weight of what we did hours earlier on the same jet. It isn’t abstinence anymore. It’s something denser — a mixture of sated desire and the awareness that we’re heading straight into the eye of the storm. After what happened on the flight, something between the three of us has changed irreversibly. It’s no longer just sex. It’s a fragile but real truce.I sit by the window seat, wrapped in a thin blanket. The sky is clear enough fo

The private jet cuts through the night sky toward Dublin. We are still dirty from the blood that has dried on our clothes and skin. The metallic smell is too strong to ignore, mixed with the scent of gunpowder and sweat. Declan sits across from me, elbows on his knees, flipping through the documents we took from Lang’s mansion in Beacon Hill. Harvey sits beside me, laptop open on the small table, eyes scanning the screens with that cold, surgical concentration he never loses.None of us are sleeping. None of us can.The silence inside the cabin is dense, almost suffocating. I feel the weight of what we did still clinging to me — the face of the guard I recognized, the recoil of the Glock in my hand, the sound of the two shots echoing in my head. It’s the first time in six years that I’ve pulled the trigger. And my body remembers everything with terrifying clarity.Declan lets out a low curse and throws a paper onto the table between us.“This doesn’t make sense,” he mutters, voice rou