103

ALEXANDER

Dennis Lucas sat in my office study with his head bowed and his eyes closed as I told him the whole story.

I watched as the hanger of his shoulders shook with what I took to be subdued laughs before his fierce black eyes snapped open and I saw a hint of the rage swimming underneath before he killed it.

“What do you mean gripped her?” He whispered hauntingly, the tenor of his baritone echoing in the empty study as he straightened from the marble desktop to pace the space.

I stuttered, pressing my hands into my eyes so that all I saw was red, instead of the man’s broad back and auburn shoulder-length hair.

Dennis Lucas had been best friends with us since I could remember, but lately, I had the feeling he was more best friends with me than with my twin brother.

It was why I had called him over, the fall of my disjointed voice on the telephone had him here faster than I could pour myself the sweet poison of opium from the wine rack.

We were just too much alike, too much of the s