Little Liar (The Web of Silence Duet, #2)

by Leigh Rivers

This takes the fucking cake. Dad wants me to go back to therapy and get myself medicated. Maybe I should—not for my twisted thoughts, but for the feelings I shouldn’t have for Olivia.

“I know you have a heart of stone, but you gotta admit that it’s pretty.” It is, I sign lazily, my eyes on her as she looks back at the view. My heart isn’t made of stone. It’s filled with poison.

There’s a boundary that society created, stopping me from falling in love with my sister, and I want to tear that boundary to fucking shreds and keep her. I’ll set fire to it and everyone who stands in my way. I love Olivia, but I’m not sure it’s the same way I grew up loving her anymore. It’s stronger, violent, and I have a feeling if she ordered me to get on my knees and kiss her fucking feet, I’d do it. Anything she asked, I’d do.

No. You were mine when we were kids, and you’re mine now. You’ll always be mine. Even when we’re dead, our souls will belong to one another.

Raising my hands, I contemplate apologizing for putting her in this position. Then I drop them because fuck her for making me feel this way. Fuck Olivia Vize for making me fall in love with her when she has no intention of doing the same with me.

My lungs burn from how much I need a good breath. My brain hurts—pressure all over—and my mouth is dry. As soon as I’m a few yards into the forest, I give in to the attack and drop to my knees, head still in my hands. I can’t breathe. Everything is tight as fuck, and my head is lowering, burying into the dirty forest floor.

Because I can’t talk? Because I can’t tell you how fucking breathtaking you are every second of every day? Because I can’t breathe without being near you? Someone like me… I’m different—I can’t be normal for you. I can’t defend you without using my fists or my bat, and I can’t touch you at the same time as telling you that you’re everything to me. I can’t whisper sweet nothings into your mouth, and I can’t fucking marry you because not only am I your brother, but I’m defective.

Believe me or don’t, but you’re the only person in my life, and you always have been. And when you take your last breath, or I take mine, that won’t fucking change. You. Are. Mine. My goddamn property, do you understand?