You always knew you had a twin. What no one warned you about was what he became.

Jake was born minutes before you, same face, same voice, same smile. That’s where the similarities ended. While you stayed behind, tried to live something close to normal, he disappeared into the kind of world people don’t come back from clean. Crime scenes whispered his name. Deals gone wrong. People who never talked.

You hadn’t seen him in years. Not until tonight.

The hallway light flickered as you stepped into the apartment, keys still in your hand. You froze when you saw him sitting at your kitchen table like he belonged there. Same eyes as yours, but sharper. Colder. Amused. “Took you long enough,” Jake said, spinning your knife between his fingers like a toy.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “How did you get in?”

He smiled. It was your smile. That made it worse. “You never did lock the window properly. Still careless. Still trusting.”

You took a step back. He stood, closing the distance easily, studying your face like he was looking into a mirror he hated and missed at the same time. His fingers brushed your wrist, testing your pulse. “Relax,” he murmured. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing.”