Vincent’s eyes narrow as he takes in the full meaning of my words. “Then you didn’t look close enough. He was treated with lasers after One rescued him, but they were not completely removed.” Vincent’s expression falters and he frowns for a moment. “You know, I loved him. I might’ve never known him since we were separated when we were two years old. But I knew of him and I loved him. I missed him too. I’m sorry he had that life and I had this one. I’d have given this all up to be his twin. I’d even have joined him. I would’ve been Six Point Five if we were allowed. You should understand that, Harper. How a twin feels about their sibling.”
And this I can relate to. I try and imagine my life without Nick. Nick, who protected me. Nick, who loved me unconditionally. Nick, who taught me to fight back and be strong. What kind of person would I be without Nick? “I’m sorry,” I say. “I bet that was hard.”
“It was. I don’t relish the fact that you’re mine and not his. I don’t have any jealousy of him. Why should I, Harper? Why should I be jealous of him? I look exactly like him. I have the same features. The same intelligence. The same natural abilities. But he’s so fucking damaged, you have no idea. He’s not safe to be around. He’s unstable in every sense of the word. He’s got no loyalties, Harper. Don’t mistake whatever you and he did together as meaningful. Because the Company has been watching him for more than a decade now. He takes women in every job. Befriends them. Fucks them blind. And then he kills everyone around them. And that’s exactly what he’s been doing with you.”
I can’t even breathe.
“He used you, Harper. He wanted that file you had to get even with your father for giving you to me. For making a mistake when he was sixteen that would change his life forever. He’s never forgiven them for not rescuing him quicker even though he knew, if you fuck up a job, the only answer you’ll get from the higher-ups is denial. He knew going in if he was captured he’d be left behind. And One risked his life to save him.”
“So why has he been around so long? Why not kill him off ages ago?”
“Because he’s efficient, Harper. You don’t just train up a guy like Tet. All twenty-eight years of his life made him what he is. A killing machine. The perfect fucking assassin.” Vincent leans over again, cupping my cheeks in his hands. “I need you to understand this, Harp. He’s not the person you think he is. He’s manipulative, calculating, and deadly. I can’t blame you for falling for it. World leaders have fallen for it—”
My mind stops listening as I remember back when James was tallying up his kills back in the desert. Destabilized entire governments, he’d said. Too many to count, he admitted. What he did in Mexico counts as genocide.
He said it all right there. He told me everything Vincent is telling me now, only I never saw it clearly.
“—so don’t think that you ever had a chance, Harper. Because you didn’t. He’s been planning this since that first year he went looking for you on your birthday.”
“Planning what?” I ask, desperate to know what’s really going on.
“To use you, Harper. He’s going to kill your entire family, and he’s gonna use you to do it.”
Chapter Eighteen
HarperI think about this for a second. My first instinct is to defend James. He’s not using me to get revenge. He’s not using me to kill my family. He loves me.
But I can’t bring myself to say it out loud and when I look Vincent in the eyes, he knows this. He knows I’m having doubts about James.
“Eat,” Vincent finally says. “You’re not eating.”
“How can I eat when you just told me he’s going to kill my brother and father?”
Vincent reaches over to stroke my cheek. “Harper, just let us take care of it, OK? We know Tet’s plan. We know how he works. We know what he’s after. So if you just trust us to take care of it, you will never have to think about him again.”
“But every time I see you, I think about him. How can I not think about him when you’re twins?”
“I’m sorry about that. I really am. We can talk about that later, when the timing is more appropriate. But for now, it’s time to eat. You need nourishment.”
Nourishment? Who talks like that? He sounds like my father—if my father ever cared that I wasn’t eating. James would just say, Eat your fucking dinner, and after we fuck, we can discuss.
“Eat,” Vincent repeats.
I pick at my lobster. I’m just not in the mood to put so much effort into a meal.
After watching me push my food around for a few minutes, Vincent sets down his fork. “You like lobster, Harper. I know you do. So what’s the problem?”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
“You’re going to eat. If you don’t want this, then tell me what you do want.”
I want James to be sane. I want James to love me. I want James to show up here and blow the place up and take me away. I don’t even care where. Anywhere that’s not here. Anywhere that’s not filled with all this pretentious shit.
Lobster dinners? I think back to the many times I’ve had lobster. Lots and lots of times. It was something we ate regularly. Every couple weeks at least. But in Huntington I ate crap. For a whole year I got to choose my own food and I ate crap. And I ate it waiting for my brother to show up and save me from my dull life that scared me so bad I wanted to take pills to make the stress go away.