*Isabella's POV*
"It's Jacob," he said, his voice a raw, strained whisper. His face was still a mask of agony, his eyes squeezed shut.
"What? Jacob?" I exclaimed, my mind a complete fucking mess. The poison from earlier, the doubt about a fiancée, was still swirling in my head, and now this? Was he hurt? Was he in trouble?
Just then, my phone buzzed in my handbag, the sound cutting through the tense silence. I fumbled for it, my hands shaking, and saw Elly's name on the screen. A fresh wave of irritation, hot and sharp, washed over me. Not now. For fuck's sake, not now.
"What do you want, Elly?" I snapped into the phone, my voice a mix of fear and frustration. "Now is not the fucking time."
"It is, bitch, so stop talking and listen," she shot back, her voice frantic, stripped of all its usual sarcasm. "Turn on the TV."
"The TV?" I asked, completely bewildered. What the hell did the TV have to do with any of this?
"Yes, just do it. Jacob..." she was saying, her voice urgent, but I didn't let her finish. I hung up on her, shoving the phone back into my bag.
My hands were trembling so badly I could barely grip the remote control for the massive television across the room. I pointed it at the screen and mashed the power button, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The screen flickered to life, the bright, sterile light of a local news channel flooding the dark room.
"Breaking news," the reporter said, her voice crisp and professional. "Eccentric young businessman Jacob Lancaster was shot near his club earlier tonight."
"He is currently..." the reporter continued, but I could barely hear anything more. The words replaying in my head, drowning out everything else. Shot? Jacob... Jacob was shot.
The room started to tilt, the blood draining from my face so fast I felt dizzy. I gripped the back of the armchair to steady myself, my knuckles white. This couldn't be happening. It was a mistake. A fucking sick joke.
"Damien, did you hear that..." I started, turning to him, my voice trembling, needing him to tell me it wasn't true, that it was some other Jacob Lancaster.
But when I looked at him, my own horror was mirrored back at me. He was still lying there, weak and in agony, his hand pressed against his heart as if he were trying to physically hold it together.
"Give me your phone," I said, my voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. I didn't wait for him to respond. I reached into the pocket of his trousers, my fingers closing around the cool, smooth metal of his phone.
"We're going to New York," I said, my mind already racing, my thumb scrolling through his contacts until I found Matthew's name. I hit dial, the phone pressed to my ear, my eyes locked on Damien's, a silent promise passing between us. We were going to him.
The engines of the plane roared like they were trying to tear the night apart, and the force of the takeoff slammed me back into the leather seat. The lights of Raleigh blurred, then disappeared completely as the plane cut into the darkness. Up here, it felt like the whole world had been muted—just the steady hum of the turbines and the heaviness pressing on my chest.
I turned my attention to Damien. He was slumped in the seat opposite me, his face pale and drawn, his gaze fixed on something outside the window that wasn't there anymore. He looked... hollowed out.
"Are you better now?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
That's when it hit me. Like a fucking bolt of lightning, straight through the chest.
They can feel each other.
Jacob had told me that. So many fucking times. He'd tried to explain it, this weird, unexplainable connection he had with his brother. A surge, a pull, a shared pain and pleasure.
And every single time, I'd treated it like some supernatural nonsense, a quirky bit of trivia I could smile and nod at without really believing. I'd humoured him.
Oh, God. I feel so fucking horrible. All those times I dismissed him, rolled my eyes at the fucking idea. How could I have been so fucking arrogant? So blind? So stupid?
A new, even more terrifying thought slithered into my brain, a cold snake of guilt that coiled around my heart and squeezed.
If they can feel each other's pain... if one can be left numb by what's happening to the other...
How do they feel when I sleep with one of them?
The hum of the plane's engines was a tiresome drone, a sound that should have been calming but instead felt like a fucking countdown. My eyes were fixed the out the window but I saw none of the scenery.
I kept seeing Jacob's face, laughing on the beach, seeing Damien's face, contorted in pain. The two images were blurring together, a painful, confusing assortment in my mind. Seeing Damien in excruciating pain i couldn't imagine what his twin was going through.
Tonight, I realised two things. Two earth-shattering things that were probably going to be the fucking death of me.
One, they were never bullshitting me. This whole time, I thought it was some dramatic, supernatural nonsense they used to explain their weird, intense bond. A twin thing. But seeing Damien, feeling his brother's pain as if it were his own... it was real. They were really, truly connected in a way I couldn't even begin to understand. And I felt like a total shit for ever dismissing it.
And two... I had fallen hard for both of them.
I had fallen for the Lancaster twins. Both of them. Hard. So fucking hard it felt like my ribs had cracked open to let them both into my heart, a space I never thought I'd give to any man, ever. I loved the way Damien challenged me, the way he saw the fighter in me, the way understood me. I loved the way Jacob cherished me, the way he saw the person I hid deep inside, the one who doesn't believe she deserves to be loved. I was falling for them hard and that's why I have to let them go