Tyrant Twins: A Dark Twin Romance

by Isabella Starling

  Parker is insane; I've come to realize this once and for all. The slightest thing throws him off guard. I'm getting sick in the damp and cold basement. I sneezed while he was painting me once, and it sent him into an insane rage. He tore the canvas he was working on before coming toward me with his fists ready to strike. He seemed to calm down some when I raised my hands in front of my face to protect myself.

  "I won't hurt you, little sis," he said, his voice painfully raspy. I think it was the first thing he said that day, being too caught up in his art and his mad mind. "I can't hurt you. I need to keep you like this. So very perfect for me."

  He still punished me, though. Because I sneezed and interrupted his creative process, I was left without food for an entire day. All I got was water. The food I get is sparse anyway, and I ended up passing out with the pains of my rumbling stomach more than once. I woke up hours later, or at least what felt like that. There's no telling what time it is in this dungeon I'm kept in. I try hard to connect with Marissa, but she always refuses to meet my eye. I finally see my chance when she comes in with some food, and Parker is out somewhere, so it's just the two of us. My voice is raspy when I call out to her.

  "Marissa," I say pleadingly. "Please, you have to help me. I'm going to die here if you don't."

  She ignores me, and I reach for her hand, my fingers trembling as I grasp her wrist. It's one of the few days when I'm not gagged and bound, and I know this might be my only chance.

  "Marissa, we need to get out of here," I say finally, hot tears already streaming down my cheeks. "We can get help... You and me, we'll do it together. We don't have to suffer like this."

  She ponders my words for a moment, and for a second, I think I've gotten through to her and she might consider helping me. But then, she rips her hand away from mine and slaps me so hard I fall back on the stained mattress.

  "Don't touch me," she hisses at me, but her bottom lip is trembling, and I think she's on the verge of crying, too. "Don't ever touch me. Parker is right... He's always right."

  I don't have a chance to say anything else after that, and when Parker returns, I know she told him what I said. He storms down the stairs, and as soon as he reaches me, he slaps me, too. My cheek is still burning from the impact of Marissa's hand, and now it stings even more. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. I've never felt more hopeless in my entire life.

  Parker is strange today. He doesn't paint, just pulls up a chair next to me and stares me down. Every so often, he runs a finger down my skin, taunting me. It scares me more than when he's painting because then he's taking it out on the canvas, at least, and not me. And as the day goes on, I feel the tension building in the room. I know he's going to explode, and I'm dreading the consequences of one of us setting him off.

  Finally, after what seems like hours of being watched, Marissa comes downstairs with a tray of food. When she's coming down the stairs, though, she trips on the last one and goes down, the tray of food flying in the air. It's like time has frozen. Marissa is tumbling down the stairs, and at one point, her horrified eyes meet mine as she falls. We connect at that moment, and as she lands on the floor, her eyes still on mine, I see her mouth a sentence to me.

  It seems like she is saying help me. And that breaks my heart into even more shattered pieces. But it's nothing compared to what happens next, what I know will haunt me for the rest of my life. The tray rattles to the floor, the sound echoing in the room. But the food that was on it splatters everywhere. It stains Marissa's clothes, and some of it lands on the canvas, which is positioned in front of the stairs. What is more, when Marissa lands on the floor, she ends up taking the easel down with her, ripping the canvas as she grips on for something to hold.

  What follows is a tension-filled few seconds. Parker is still facing me, and I'm there to see the expression change on his face. One moment, he's focused and deep in thought. Then it's as if his eyes turn black. He turns around slowly, taking in the sight in front of him.

  Another painting, ruined. Food everywhere. Marissa on the floor.

  All of it combined sets him off, and my heart stops in my chest when he advances toward Marissa, reaching her in a few long steps.

  His hands wrap around her throat, and he raises her in the air, his hands choking her. Her eyes connect with mine, the horror the only emotion left in them. I gasp lightly, scrambling to get off the mattress and come help her, but I'm tied up again now, and I can't do anything to stop my crazed stepbrother.

  Still clutching her throat, Parker comes for me and kicks me back on the mattress. I take a sharp intake of breath as the force sends me plummeting, the sharp kick to my ribs knocking out all of my fear. Marissa uses the distraction to her benefit and fights out of Parker's arms, running for the stairs. But he's too quick for her, catching her on the second stair and grabbing her like she weighs nothing.

  "Parker, please!" she yells out, tears streaming down her face as he drags her downward. "Parker, I love you. Don't hurt me... You know I'd do anything for you! Anything! I'm so sorry!" He positions her in front of the easel and makes her look at the mess in front of her.

  "Look at what you did," he says softly, too calm for my liking. "Look at this mess."

  "I'm so sorry," she whimpers, stopping the struggle between them. She's compliant, soft, just like he wants her to be. "I'll clean everything up. I'll make it up to you. I love you so much, Parker..."

  He looks at her face long and hard. And it makes what happens next that much worse, because I know he took the time to think about what he is going to do. With full force, he smashes Marissa's head against the concrete floor. I hear her scream, and I know I'm screaming, too.

  So much noise. So much. It hurts my head. But I still watch. I can't fucking help it. I watch until she goes limp in his arms, her head a gaping hole of blood. He drags her body toward me, dropping her in front of me so her empty eyes stare straight into mine. It's like I'm hypnotized—I can't look away. I look into the gaze of the woman whom he killed, the woman who was a person just a few seconds ago but is now a dead body.

  "Look what you made me do," Parker mutters. "You can blame yourself for this, little sis. She came here because of you. And now, she's gone... because of you."

  He storms out of the basement, and I'm left stunned and horrified with a corpse staring me accusingly in the eyes. I did this. It's all my fault. At that point, the darkness envelops me, and I welcome it with open arms. I let my eyes close; let the darkness take all the pain away. I don't cry. I just lie back and pretend I'm somewhere far away... I block it all out.

  I'm not June anymore.

  I'm nothing. No one.

  I'm just... gone.

  Hours later, Parker drags Marissa's unmoving body up the stairs. But the image of her still open eyes staring at me will stay ingrained in my mind forever. I don't see him for an entire day after, but it doesn't matter to me. Time has stopped because I'm not even in my body anymore. I float in and out of consciousness, thankful every time my eyes close and the darkness mercifully takes over. It's so much easier to block it all out; I'm starting to lose myself. And what scares me more is that it's so fucking easy.

  I like being nobody, being a blank canvas. There's not much of June left, and I know in a short while, she will be gone. Finally, I hear Parker coming down the stairs. Half-starved, I crawl toward the staircase. I stop in front of a pair of dark boots and look up pleadingly.

  "Water," I beg in a raspy voice. A cool waterfall hits my face with full force, and I lap it all up as Parker empties a jug of water over my head. He chuckles low in his throat at my misfortune, and for the first time in days, I feel a strong surge of emotions. It's hate—pure, unadulterated hatred. The need for revenge makes me feel alive for the first time since I've been abducted. He leans down next to me, tipping my chin back with his fingers. I fight hard to conceal my feelings, knowing they might set him off and make him go on another killing spree. I'm surprised by the need to protect myself when I had all but g
iven up not that long ago.

  "Tonight," he growls in my face. A sick smile splits his face, which is so much like Kade’s. But not now. Now it's only a twisted grimace, the expression that of a sick, disturbed person. They're nothing alike when Parker is like this... thank God. "Tonight, you're mine," he snarls next. "Tonight, I'll ruin you for him, little sis."

  With that, he lets my face drop, and I feel the rage boiling in my belly. He kicks me aside. An evil laugh emanates from his mouth. "I'll bring down a mirror later, so you can take a long look at your face while it's still perfect. It won't be for long." I shiver as his words resonate in my mind.

  "That's right," he says in a low growl. "You'll have a pretty scar to match Dove's. Isn't that what you've always wanted? To be special?" His laughter echoes in the room. He shuts the door on his way out, and I crawl to my mattress, curling up in a ball as I imagine the worst things he could do to me.

  I feel sick for hours after that, and I retch several times, but nothing comes out of me since my body is so empty. Lying on the mattress, I feel sorry for myself, and I dip so low that I finally let myself think about Kade and Theo. I've stopped myself every time my mind drifted to my loves. I told myself I mustn't think of them, knowing just how much it would hurt.

  But now, my mind is filled with images of my husband. Sweet, loving. Rough, dark. The father of my child. He's the light at the end of the tunnel. But I can barely make it out anymore.

  Tears fill my eyes as I think of his resolve to have more children. He's always been the strong one; the first one up after life dealt another blow. I was the one who languished under pressure, suffered from panic attacks, and sobbed at any given opportunity. And Kade was the one who held me, consoled me, and always made me feel like it was worth going on.

  Just then, I hear noises upstairs and someone coming down the stairs. I turn toward the wall, too terrified to look. I'm bound, and I know I can't make a run for it in my current state. As the steps come closer and closer, I curl myself in a ball and prepare myself for the worst, which is yet to come.

  37

  Kade

  Since June disappeared without a trace, I've been desperate. I've looked everywhere. I searched the house and the surrounding area. On the beach, I found the pendant I'd given her, and for a moment, the thought that she'd gone into the sea enveloped me in a thick fog of panic. She wouldn't have done that. Not with our son back at home. She'd never hurt herself.

  Then I started thinking something bad happened, and my suspicion only grew stronger when I realized the electricity in the house had been tampered with. Someone had jammed the generator, so I couldn't turn it back on, either. There was no way of contacting the mainland now. As far as they were concerned, June and I were perfectly fine, enjoying our time cut off from real life. And the boat wouldn't arrive for another few days, which meant I was on my own.

  I remembered the second property on the island and made the trek there. The moment that dark-haired woman opened the door, I knew something was up. She was nervous, twitchy. I could see the lies in her eyes, and my suspicion deepened when I realized she looked familiar. I left her there, not wanting her to know I suspected something was off. As I made another trek back to my house, I wondered where I'd seen her before.

  It hits me hours later. She is the woman I saw at the gallery with my brother. His lover, assistant, or whatever the fuck she is. A growl escapes my lips, and my hands form fists at my sides. Parker's here—he has to be. And he has June. Who else would take her?

  I spend the rest of the evening preparing for the attack. I equip myself with a knife from the kitchen and a mallet for meat. I bide my time in the shadows of the shrubbery next to the other house, waiting for my moment to strike. My suspicions are confirmed an hour later. Through the tall windows illuminated from the inside—the bastard still has electricity—I see my brother working on something. Rage flows through me. I'm going to fucking kill him for this. I found it in my heart to be merciful the last time, but now, it's fucking different.

  My twin tricked me. He forced his way back into our lives so he could steal June from me. He thought he finally had her, but he thought fucking wrong. This time, the only person who will suffer the consequences is him.

  I wait until nightfall before sneaking around the corner of the house. There are still lights on inside, and I wait for the perfect moment to strike. I'm hoping the dark-haired girl will appear again, but she doesn't. Instead, my brother comes out of the house, dragging a body with him.

  I watch in horror as he begins digging what can only be a grave. The unmoving body is the dark-haired girl I saw at the house before, and my blood runs cold as I realize he's killed her.

  Parker's overstepped many lines, but I never thought he'd kill an innocent woman. My hand grips the knife tightly as I watch him dig. He's going to be busy for a while longer. I can use this time to my advantage. Peeling myself from the shadows, I head for the house. When Parker isn't looking, I slip inside the building.

  Inside, my heart beats frantically as I try to figure out where he's keeping June. I search the downstairs and am about to head to the upper floor when I see the stairs leading into the basement. My heart pounds as I undo the locks and flip the light switch on. And there she is—my beautiful wife, bound and gagged on the floor, unmoving.

  I rush toward June, cradling her broken body in my hands. She doesn't have any marks on her apart from some light bruising, so it seems like he hasn't hurt her apart from some slaps. My blood fucking boils, and I swear to myself Parker will pay for each one of the bruises he put on June's pale skin.

  "June," I whisper, but she doesn't reply. I can see the faint rise and fall of her chest. Either she's deeply asleep, or her body has given up already, trying to save her the pain of being awake.

  "Don't bother."

  My eyes snap up. Parker stands at the top of the stairs, carelessly watching us on the floor. "She's been like that for a while now. Hours, at least."

  Carefully, I slip the knife in my pocket. It cuts me going in, but I don't give a shit. This is the moment of truth.

  "You sick fuck," I hiss. "You killed that girl, didn't you?"

  "Of course I did." He smirks at me. He advances on me, stopping on the stairs and watching me with a snarl on his face that mirrors my own. "You left me to rot on the streets, Kade. It’s all your fucking fault."

  My heart pounds as we stare at one another. There's something inside me, a desperation, that makes me blurt out, "It's not too late, Parker. I can get you out of this mess. I can get you a lawyer. You'll be out on bail in no time. And I'll—"

  He interrupts me by laughing out loud and shaking his head in disbelief. "You haven't changed one bit, have you, Kade? I don't want a lawyer. I'm not going back to New York."

  "Then what?" I hiss. "What was your fucking masterplan here, brother? You can't keep June here. She needs help, right now."

  "She'll be fine." He waves his hand dismissively. So fucking careless. He always claimed he loved June, but his actions don't show it at all. "But you won't."

  "You'd kill me too? Your own brother?"

  "You're not my brother," he spits out. "My brother would never do what you did to me."

  "I tried to help you," I remind him, feeling the knife press against my skin. "I wanted you to get better."

  "I don't want to get better," Parker snarls at me. "I'm fine with how I am, Kade, as opposed to you. One of these days, you'll stop fighting your demons, too. One day, you'll be just like Dad and me."

  The memories of what June told me about our father haunt me, and I shake my head. "I could never hurt someone I love."

  "News fucking flash, idiot," he hisses. "You already did."

  He approaches me then, and I notice the glint of a knife in his hand. We really are brothers—even picking the same weapon of choice. I realize I still don't want to hurt him. I don't trust myself enough to end his life. My best bet now is staying down here and making sure June's okay before I decide to strike.<
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  "Will you be happy then?" I ask Parker. "If you get to keep June here... and kill me. Will you finally be happy?"

  "Happiness is for the weak." Parker smirks at me. "Haven't you learned that by now?"

  I shake my head in disbelief. I never did realize just how far gone he is already. "Aren't you going to kill me already?"

  "Not yet," he replies lazily. "I want June to see."

  "You're sick," I spit out. "You just want to hurt her. Punish her for not giving you what you want. You don't love her."

  "Of course I do," he snaps. “Now get on the fucking ground before I change my goddamn mind."

  I kneel. He approaches me, and I pray he won't notice the weapon I have concealed in my pocket. Luckily, he doesn't. He brings out some zip ties and binds my hands behind my back. I glare at him as he does so, knowing I'm merely biding my time. He steps back to admire his handiwork.

  "June will never love you." I can't fucking help myself—I want to hurt him. But Parker doesn't even flinch at the words. "She never will. If you hurt me, you lose her forever."

  "She has your kid." He shrugs. "That'll have to be enough because I'm not letting her have anything else from you."

  How I ever could have trusted this monster is beyond me. And the fact that he's brought my son into this makes me fucking sick. I'll be damned if I let him lay a single finger on my kid.

  Then Parker does something that makes me think I really could kill him right here and right now if I wasn't tied the fuck up. He walks up to June's barely moving body, kneels next to her, and envelops her parted lips in a twisted kiss. I grunt when I see what he's doing. I fucking hate the bastard. He's just lost all mercy I ever had for him. Our bond as brothers—as twins—is instantly broken as he gropes my wife through the flimsy dress she's got on. I'm going to fucking kill him for this myself if I have to.