It’s been him.
Koa.
I’m the wrong twin.
A flicker of something ugly twists low in my chest. Guilt, probably. Or something close enough that I don’t want to examine it too closely.
I’ve been playing a part this whole time. Letting her look at me and see someone else. Letting her trust something that isn’t real.
And now?—
Now this is turning into something that might actually matter.
“Okay,” Koa says from the doorway. “That’s not normal.”
I look up, irritation snapping back into place like armour. “What isn’t?”
“The house.”
I snort. “Bro, it creaks.”
He shoots me a look. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
I do. And I hate that I do.
I set my phone down and rub a hand over my face. “You’re picking up on it too, then.”
I knot we touched on this briefly before but there’s somethingheavierbeing unsaid right now.
“Yes,” he says flatly.
We sit with that for a moment.
I try to make a joke. It dies halfway out of my mouth.
“She’s asleep,” I say instead. “Sol said.”
“For now,” Koa replies.
That phrase again.
I shift in my chair, suddenly restless. “You reckon he’s overreacting?”
“No.” Koa’s gaze flicks toward the stairs. Toward Sol’s room.
I frown. “That was quick.”
“She’s not right,” he says. “You smelled it.”
I did. I just don’t want to think about what that means.
“She’s sick,” I say, stubbornly. “People get sick.”
She may be an omega. She may even be our brother’s scent match. But she isn’t?—
“Yes,” Koa agrees. “They do. But they don’t change a whole house like this.”
That lands uncomfortably close to the truth.