The mask hit the scorched floor with a dull clang.
Lustrous black hair, cropped short. A strong jaw, now tight with agony. Eyes the color of a starless night, blazing with a hate that felt… familiar.
Lucian froze.
The world narrowed to the man's face. The line of his brow. The shape of his nose. The set of his mouth. It was like looking into a distorted mirror, one that showed him an older, harder version of himself. This man was in his mid-twenties, but the resemblance was uncanny. It was more than a coincidence. It was a ghost.
His mind raced, a frantic, silent scream. Impossible. His parents only had two kids. Him, and Lucy. He'd have known. There would have been pictures, a story, something. This wasn't a brother. This was a phantom.
Marc snarled through the pain, sweat beading on his forehead. "See something you like?" His voice was a raw, pained thing, but the venom was there.
