All Chapters of My husband's twin, my ruin: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Mark. I killed the throttle, relieving the helmet in fast motion. Adrenaline still vibrated deep within me. My knuckles were stiff, white against the rubber grips, still carrying the weight of our earlier run. All I kept seeing over and over was Clay’s face. The way he’d looked at me after he pulled the trigger—like I was some soft, daddy’s boy who didn’t have the stomach for real street blood.Worse, the others might percieve me as weak and start asking questions. They dare not ask those fuckin’ questions.I could use some cool off. See a beautiful face. Not my intention to bring chaos anywhere near this neighborhood, it seems to follow like a shadow. Running a hand through my hair, I cleared my throat.I sat on the saddle, the engine cooling. I didn't get off the machine. I just stared at the front porch watching the delicate nightingale bird chirp.Suddenly, the front door clicked open.There she is.MY ANGEL.Cassie stepped out, her hair still dark and wet. Probably from a fres

Mark. The cold taste of tobacco and grease stayed on my tongue as the dawn light finally broke through the heavy river mist, turning the concrete walls of the Sanctuary a dull, blood-red color.I cut the engine of my chopper inside the main courtyard, the sudden silence of the compound settling heavily over my ears. My leather cut felt heavy against my back, the Vice President patch catching the pale morning light as I stepped off the machine. The memory of Cassie's mouth against mine on that dark bridge approach was still burning behind my eyelids like a live wire, a clean, dangerous heat that didn't belong in the middle of a street war. But the moment I pushed the heavy oak doors of the compound open, the smell of burnt copper and stale sweat brought the reality of the grid rushing back.The atmosphere inside the main bay was completely frozen.Over by the pool tables, twenty patched members were sitting in absolute, heavy silence, their eyes fixed on the floorboards as I walked pa

Mark.my phone inside my leather cut cut through the cold morning air before I could even kick the engine over.I pulled the screen out, my jaw tightening as I saw the caller ID. It was my private corporate secretary from the Vanguard Tech headquarters downtown. I slid the phone against my ear, keeping my eyes fixed on the heavy iron gates of the Sanctuary."Savage," her voice came through, tight and professional, using the digital tag we kept on our secure servers. "The local audits are clear. Everything on the core ledger is fine for now, but our network flags just intercepted a data leak from the northern pass registry. David’s legal team is routing an administrative block through the city court. It’s a threat we need to abort before the board sits on Friday.""Keep the firewalls locked," I flatly said, my voice a low vibration in the quiet courtyard. "Don't let a single file clear the municipal grid until I get back downtown. Abort any signature that tries to breach the Vanguard a

Mark. Clay delivered his final warning, the smoke from his cigar swirling under the dim yellow cage lamps like a grey shroud.I didn't offer a single word of apology, and I didn't open my mouth to justify the choice I’d made down in that concrete aisle. I just sat there, my hands flat against the scarred oak slab of the Round Table, my face an immovable mask of pure unyielding focus. In our world, silence wasn't a sign of weakness; it was a wall. Clay wanted me to look regretful, to bow my head to his old-school Vandal authority and bleed for the patch, but I’d spent thirty years learning how to handle the pressure without cracking.When the old man finally finished his speech, his chest heaving under his leather vest, I slowly stood up from my chair. I didn't look down at the maps, and I didn't look back at his weathered, furious face. I walked straight past his shoulder, my heavy boots loud against the timber floorboards as I tapped him once on the arm—a flat, declaration that his

Cassie.I was still huddled by the corner of the mahogany drafting table, my knees pulled tightly against my chest as the dry, disheveled sobs shook my entire frame. The white-hot imprint of David's fingers was still burning like a brand against my left cheek, a constant, throbbing pulse of pure humiliation. The shattered pieces of my phone lay scattered across the dusty floorboards near the brick wall, a silent reminder of how easily he had cut off my air.The heavy iron door swung wide, and my mother rushed into the small office, her own floral apron crooked from where David had shoved her against the frame."Cassie! Oh, my sweet girl," she cried, dropping to her knees on the cold wood and pulling my shaking shoulders straight into her arms. She began cooing softly, her warm hands smoothing the wild strands of hair from my face, her voice a soothing, maternal rhythm that tried to push the terror out of the room. "He’s gone, sweetheart. He’s gone. You’re safe now. I’m right here."Fo