That alarms her. I see her debating whether or not she wants to believe me, but she must decide she doesn’t have any better options at the moment, because she finally breaks her silence.
Quietly, not wanting to make much noise and draw anyone to her room since I’ve threatened to kill ’em all, she says, “My older sister.” Her voice is wobbly with fear but sweet. She’s soft-spoken, just like I would’ve envisioned if she’d had a speaking part in my earlier thoughts of her.
“She went on a date tonight?” I question, given how she greeted me.
Alyssa nods her head, looking at the door again. “Sometimes when she comes home after a date, she comes in to talk to me about it.”
Without moving off her, I lean over to grab her phone off the nightstand by her bed. It means moving my gun away from her temple, but she must not have faith in her ability to wrestle it away from me, because she doesn’t try.
She keeps an eye on me as I reach for her phone, and I keep an eye on her, too. I see the flicker of hope in her eyes when she catches sight of it, but then she looks back at me and does a piss-poor job trying to hide it.
“Don’t get too excited,” I tell her. “We’re gonna text your sister and tell her you’re going to sleep and you’ll talk to her tomorrow. What’s her name?”
She hesitates, clearly not wanting to give me her sister’s name.
I’m stunned when I open her phone and I don’t have to put in a passcode or anything to gain access. I go straight to her messages and open them, figuring I might be able to tell which conversation is with her sister by what was said in the last couple of texts. She must not ever delete messages, though, because there’s a shit-ton of them in here. I scroll down and see a fuck-ton more.
“Jesus, you don’t believe in letting go, do you?”
She scowls at me. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Brant.”
Surprise flickers across her face since I actually answered her. “And what are you doing in my house, Brant?”
“Sorry, I guess I should add a little more context than that, huh?”
Confused by my congenial tone, she hesitates before nodding.
“I’ve got a twin sister named Bri,” I tell her. “I think you’re familiar with her, and especially familiar with her husband, Theo.”
Her face falls. I expect it’s because she’s swiftly realizing she’s fucked, but I’m thrown by the next words out of her mouth. “Oh no—Bri knows?”
I frown at her and tilt my head to the side, trying to figure out what to make of her. “You can’t care too awful much,” I remark. “You’ve been fucking her husband behind her back.”
“I know,” she says miserably, bringing her hands up to cover her face. “I didn’t want her to find out. I didn’t want to hurt her, I swear. It was so stupid. It’s completely over with him now, and I hoped Bri would never have to know it happened.”
As I’m scrolling through her old messages, I find a chain of messages to and from Theo. On a whim, I open it to check his story. Much to my surprise, the video she sent him is still right there in the text thread.
Before I can decide against something that will undoubtedly alarm her, my curiosity gets the better of me and I push play.
I can see her all right in this bedroom with the moonlight spilling in the windows, but as the video starts, I get a really good look at her pretty face. The flush in her cheeks, the untarnished twinkle in her eyes—they’re the hue of the ocean, and her golden hair hangs in a side ponytail over one dainty shoulder.
“I’ve never done this before,” she tells Theo with a nervous giggle.
Beneath me, the flesh-and-blood version of her gasps in horror and makes a grab for the phone. “Oh my God, don’t watch that!”
I find it a little funny that she wouldn’t grab for my gun, but the idea of me watching a video of her masturbating is too much for her to bear. I drop the phone anyway, letting her win for a minute—but only so I can turn her over onto her stomach, lock my arm around her neck, and crush her beneath me. She struggles, gasping as she flails and tries unsuccessfully to kick me.
“Knock it off,” I snap.
She keeps fighting me, but she can’t go anywhere. I tighten my arm around her throat until she gets really scared. Her hands fly to my arm and she tries to pry it off.
“You gonna settle down?” I ask her.
She doesn’t nod or even try to, just keeps fighting me.
Ignoring her, I flatten her against the bed with my weight and reach out to touch her phone. It’s lying face up on the mattress now, the screen dark. In the tussle, the program must have closed, so I have to open the message again to get back to the video. Once I push play, she lets out a low whine.