TAMED BY THE TWINS

Alina

The rain felt like needles against my skin as I stumbled through the empty street. Each step sent sharp pain through my bare feet, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. Not when Mrs. Henderson's voice still echoed in my head, a worthless, ungrateful little bitch and the sting of her boyfriend's hand still burned on my cheek.

Lightning split the sky, and for a moment, everything went white. That's when I saw the headlights.

"Shit.."

I threw myself sideways, hitting the pavement hard as the black car's tires screamed against wet asphalt. My palms scraped against concrete, blood mixing with rainwater.

"What the hell?" A car door slammed. "There's someone out here!"

Heavy footsteps splashed toward me. I tried to scramble away, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. Too cold. Too tired. Too broken.

"Get up." Rough hands grabbed my arms, hauling me to my feet. "What are you doing on Sterling property?"

Sterling? I blinked water from my eyes, finally seeing the massive iron gates behind me. The estate loomed like something out of a nightmare, all dark stone and sharp angles cutting through the storm.

"I wasn't, I didn't know.."

"Save it." The guard's grip tightened. "Probably casing the place. Boss is gonna want to see this one."

They dragged me through the gates, past manicured gardens that looked like graveyards in the lightning flashes. The mansion's front doors were solid oak, the kind that probably cost more than most people's cars.

Inside, everything screamed money. Crystal chandelier, marble floors, paintings that looked old enough to be in museums. I dripped all over their perfect white marble, leaving muddy footprints like accusations.

"Found her lurking by the gates," the guard announced to someone I couldn't see. "Little thief, probably."

"I'm not.."

The slap came out of nowhere, snapping my head to the side. Stars exploded behind my eyes.

"Speak when spoken to," a woman's voice hissed. "What's your name?"

"Alina," I whispered, tasting blood.

Another slap. Harder this time.

"Alina what? Don't tell me some street rat only has one name."

"Just... just Alina."

The woman, blonde, sharp-featured, wearing more jewelry than I'd ever seen looked me up and down like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe.

"Disgusting. Look at the mess she's making." She gestured to my muddy trail. "Strip her down and hose her off. Then we'll decide what to do with.."

"That won't be necessary."

The voice cut through the room like a blade. Cold. Controlled. Dangerous. Everyone went still. Even the rain outside seemed to be quiet.

I turned toward the staircase and felt my breath catch. He stood there like he owned the world which, judging by this place, he probably did.

Tall, dark-haired, wearing a black suit that probably cost more than Mrs. Henderson's monthly welfare check. But it was his eyes that made my stomach drop. Gray as storm clouds and just as merciless.

"Mr. Sterling," the woman stammered. "We found this... person... on the grounds. We were just.."

"I can see what you were doing, Patricia." His voice never changed tone, but everyone in the room seemed to shrink. "Leave us."

"But sir, she could be dangerous.."

"Leave. Us."

The guards and Patricia filed out like scolded children. I was alone with him now, water still dripping from my hair, shivering in my torn clothes.

He descended the stairs slowly, each step deliberate. When he reached me, he circled like a predator studying prey. I kept my eyes down, but I could feel his gaze cataloging every bruise, every cut, every sign of the hell I'd escaped.

"Look at me."

I raised my head, meeting those gray eyes. He was younger than I'd expected, maybe mid-twenties but there was something ancient in his stare. Something that had seen too much darkness.

"What's your name?"

"Alina."

"Alina what?"

"Just Alina." I lifted my chin slightly. "I don't have anything else."

Something flickered in his expression. Not quite amusement, but close.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Where did you come from?"

The honest answer would be the foster home three blocks away, where my "guardian" let her boyfriend use me as a punching bag. Where meals were conditional and sleep was a luxury. Where I was nothing but a monthly check and a warm body to abuse.

"Nowhere that matters."

He studied me for a long moment. I watched his eyes take in the bruises on my throat, the split lip, the way I favored my left side where Mrs. Henderson's boyfriend had kicked me.

"You're hurt."

It wasn't a question.

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"I'm alive. That's what matters."

Another flicker in those gray eyes. He reached out slowly, fingers almost touching the bruise on my cheek before I flinched away.

"Who did this to you?"

"No one."

"Another lie."

I said nothing. What was the point? Nobody ever cared before. Nobody ever would. He stepped back, hands clasped behind him like he was considering a business proposal.

"I need a new maid," he said finally. "You just volunteered."

"What?" The word came out as a whisper.

"You heard me."

"I never, I don't want.."

"What you want is irrelevant. You're trespassing on my property. I could call the police, have you arrested. How do you think that would go for someone like you?"

Someone like me. Street trash. Foster kid. Nobody.

"But I'm offering you an alternative. Work for me, and you'll have food, shelter, safety. Refuse..." He shrugged. "Well, I'm sure the streets will take you back."

"I don't understand. Why would you.."

"Because I can." His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "Because you have nothing, are nothing, and owe everything to my mercy. Because when I say jump, you'll ask how high. Do we understand each other?"

I stared at him, this beautiful, terrifying man who'd just bought me like a piece of property. The smart thing would be to run. To take my chances with the storm and the streets and whatever fresh hell waited out there.

But I was so tired of running. So tired of being hungry and cold and afraid.

"I understand," I whispered.

"Good." He turned toward the stairs. "Patricia will show you to the servants' quarters. You start tomorrow."

He was halfway up before I found my voice again.

"What's your name?"

He paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"Ares Sterling. Your new master."

++++++++

The servant's wing was a world away from the mansion's grandeur. Narrow hallways, simple furniture, everything functional but comfortable. Patricia who turned out to be the head housekeeper gave me a room barely bigger than a closet, but it had a bed and a window and a lock on the door.

A lock I could control. For the first time in months, I felt something like safety.

Three days later, I tried to escape.

I should have known better. Should have realized that men like Ares Sterling didn't just let their property walk away.

I made it as far as the servants' entrance before crashing into what felt like a brick wall. Strong arms caught me before I could fall, and I looked up into a face that made my heart stop.

He looked exactly like Ares. Same dark hair, same sharp features, same imposing height. But where Ares was ice, this man was fire. Where Ares was control, this was chaos barely leashed.

And he was grinning at me like he'd just won the lottery.

"Well, well," he said, his voice a perfect match for his brother's but warmer, more amused. "You must be the pretty stray my brother picked up."

I tried to step back, but his grip tightened.

"Tell me, little dove," he whispered, leaning close enough that I could feel his breath against my ear. "Has he touched you yet?”