They Called Me A Defective Copy Of My Sister Chapter 10

They Called Me A Defective Copy Of My Sister Chapter 10

His grip on my wrist was hard enough to bruise. I didn’t want him to let go.

These hands – his hands. I’d reached for them so many times in dreams, and every time, my

fingers closed around nothing.

“Silas. Or 07.” My voice came out steadier than I expected – almost steady, except for a

tremor I couldn’t quite hide.

“Did you really think a different suit and a deeper voice would fool me?”

“The storage room. Three years ago.”

“Then the underground ring in Ravenswood.”

“Your eyes. Your scars. The way your tail moves.”

“All the same. Every single one.”

His breathing went completely ragged.

–

I watched it happen in real time – shock folding into panic, panic dissolving into something

raw and aching and relieved.

“Hazel…”

My name – not a title, not his brother’s wife, just my name – scraped out of him like it cost

him something. The rigid tail around my wrist softened.

–

It unwound and drifted to my waist instead, curling there – so careful, so tentative – the fur

brushing warm against the thin cotton of my pajamas.

Like a peace offering. Like a question.

“You knew.”

He dropped his forehead against my shoulder, and when he spoke again, his voice was muffled and edged with something painfully close to hurt.

“Then why’d you let me keep pretending? Why didn’t you just… call me out?”

Why? Because Vance was in love with Ruby. Because this ridiculous charade was the only

way I’d ever get to have him near me.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I pulled his head closer, cradling the damp weight of him against me. When my

fingers found his ears, his whole body shuddered.

His tail went wild – frantic, joyful, completely out of his control. It didn’t matter that the lies

were crumbling around us.

Right here, right now – he was my 07. And I was his Hazel.

That had never changed.

–

He crushed me against him – arms locked, trembling, holding on like he was trying to pull

me into his bloodstream.

I let him. His whole body was shaking against me. When he finally spoke, the words came

out wrecked.

“Hazel, I’m a liar. I never died.”

“The ring faked my death – told everyone I was gone so they could ship me to the black

market and keep forcing me into death matches.” His jaw tightened. “I got out. Killed the man

who ran it. That’s how I got a name – a real one.”

He lifted his head. His eyes were threaded with red, and he looked – God, he looked terrified.

Like a kid bracing to be thrown away.

“I was scared you’d find out what I am. A killer. A runaway. That you’d think I was – “His

voice cracked. “That I was too dirty for you.”

–

“So when Vance came to me, begging me to fill in I said yes for the wrong reasons.”

“I thought – even if it was a lie, even if it was just for a few days – I wanted to know what it

felt like. Having a home. Having you.”

Every word hit like a fist to the chest. There was no miracle. No resurrection.

Just a boy who’d clawed his way out of hell with his bare hands because someone once looked at him like he was worth saving.

I traced the scars on his back, one after another – the ugly, raised map of everything he’d

survived.

Every scar was proof he’d lived. Every scar was proof he’d come back for me.

“Silas.” I took his face in both hands and made him look at me.

“Liars get punished.”

His lashes fluttered shut. He braced – shoulders squaring, breath held – like a man awaiting execution.

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

I rose onto my toes and kissed him.

He tasted like rain and salt.

“Your punishment,” I whispered against his mouth, “is that you don’t get to leave me. Not ever. Not for the rest of your life.”