Liam drags me off the bed toward the windows and yanks me behind him. It happens so fast, I only get a glimpse of the woman in the doorway and the two, unfamiliar men with her.

“Tsk, tsk, Liam,” she says chidingly. “Did you really think we’d wait for you like sitting ducks?” As she speaks, her voice moves closer to the bed. She sounds different—so different than I remember. Empty. Cold. Psychotic.

My thoughts scatter on the winds of fear. I swallow hard against the urge to vomit. Blocked by Liam’s broad back, I glance at the nightstand. There’s a gun in the top drawer. Close. Not close enough. As if sensing my thought, Liam’s hands tighten on my hips.

Fabric hisses as nails drag over the sheets, likely still warm from our bodies.

“You know, I’m honestly surprised you were this stupid. Did you really think you were the only one capable of gaining contacts on the island? It was a simple matter, really, finding and paying your snitch to report exactly what we wanted him to. Oh, and finding someone willing to tell us where you were staying.”

Liam growls low in his throat. “What do you want, Alexis? The money? Fine. Give us Elizabeth and it’s all yours.”

She laughs. Light and airy, and utterly void of actual feeling.

“I think we’re past that point, don’t you? My sister and I have some unfinished business. Ohhh, Eden,” she sings loudly, “where oh where is my Eeeden?”

Chills run down my arms and back. Deep in my belly, a ball of something white and hot forms. It fills me like a tonic, sizzling down my limbs and washing away my fear.

Jerking out of Liam’s hands, I move to his side. And there she is, flanked by two hard-faced men. My sister. A woman who played me, betrayed me, tried to have me killed, then changed her mind and opted for torture.

I see nothing of the woman she pretended to be in Los Angeles. That person never existed, a mere figment of my mind and heart.

My hatred of Chris pales in comparison to what I feel now, looking at her.

“Alexis,” I snarl in greeting. “I’d say you’re looking well, but you actually look like you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet. Didn’t anyone tell you drugs are bad for the complexion?”

Liam whispers, “Shit.”

Alexis flushes in fury, lifting the gun at her side. My heart trips in its rhythm as the silencer’s little hole comes in line with my chest. Liam throws an arm before me, but I shove it down, stepping forward until my knees hit the bed. Across from me is a warped mirror—I only spoke the truth. For all that we remain identical twins, we look nothing alike.

Her face is puffy from long-term drug use, her skin sallow and dry on a skeletal frame. Despite it all, she’s still attractive. Dark hair, nearly black, frames her face in silky strands. Her lips are cherry red and full, currently twisted in a sneer.

“Bold words for a dead woman,” she seethes.

“I think if I were a dead woman, there’d already be a bullet in me. Right, sis? But there isn’t, because you’re not in charge, are you?”

Her face turns an alarming shade of purple; the hand with the gun trembles. “You fucking bitch. I’m going to rip out your heart.”

My bravado falters. Then Liam’s fingers squeeze hard, reminding me who I am. And who I’m not.

“Daddy wants to meet me, doesn’t he?” I ask sweetly.

It was the wrong thing to say—Alexis relaxes and smiles. “He does, but he doesn’t give a shit about a Rourke.” The gun in her hand swings to Liam.

I jump in front of him, hands up. “No!”

Still smiling, Alexis clicks her tongue. “Interesting.”

Her hand twitches. There’s a muffled pop. Then Liam jerks behind me, his fingers spasming as the window behind us shatters.

I wasn’t tall enough to block all of him.

With a strangled cry, I turn, grabbing for him. Shoulder. Only the shoulder. But too close to a lung. I staunch the blood with my hand, reaching over his shoulder with my other to find the exit. Small caliber, thank God.

Alexis titters. “Ah, love. I can’t wait to take it away from you, just like you took everything from me.” Then, to the soldiers, “Bring them both.”

I meet Liam’s steady gaze. There’s no pain in them. Only quiet, contained calm.

The calm before the storm.

Cruel hands grab my arms, yanking me up. A zip tie wraps around my wrists, locking them before me. The other man drags Liam to his feet and likewise binds his hands. He winces but doesn’t fight.

His eyes stay trained on my face as his lips shape one word. A word that makes no sense.

Clover.

As punishing hands pull me across the bedroom, my mind spins in confusion. What the hell does my safe word have to do with anything? No word is going to get us out of this.

It isn’t until my gaze lands on Alexis’s smug smile that I remember the conversation we had six years ago. She told me she didn’t understand submission because she lived without freedom to choose her own path. She wanted control because she lacked control.

Clover.

Alexis has no power.

But I do.