The night my brother disappeared didn't feel like a tragedy at first. It felt… slow. Subtle. Like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something I couldn't see. Even the cicadas outside our window, usually loud enough to drown out my thoughts, fell silent. The stillness pressed against my ribs like a warning I didn't yet understand.
At seventeen, I thought heartbreak came from dramatic moments—slammed doors, tearful confrontations, screaming matches. But that night, it arrived in the softest form: a shift in the air, a strange tremor in Elliot's voice, the kind of quiet that makes you afraid to inhale too deeply.
I didn't know the world as I knew it was ending.
I didn't know I would never see my twin walk through our door again.
I didn't know that this would be the last night I was simply Elleanore.
I didn't know anything—except that something in the room felt wrong.
"You're not even listening."
Elliot's voice snapped through the living room, sharper than usual. It pulled me out of the textbook I'd been staring at for the last twenty minutes. Not understanding. Not absorbing. Pretending.
He stood near the front door in his immaculate academy uniform, blazer buttoned all the way up despite the warm night, his duffel bag packed and set neatly at his feet. His hair was combed back in the way he only did when he was trying to look older than seventeen.
But his eyes—those honey-brown eyes we shared—were restless.
"I'm listening now," I said. It came out too soft. Too careful.
He sighed, the kind of sigh that sounded rehearsed, like he'd been waiting all evening for the right moment to say something impossible. "Ellie."
I hated when he used that voice. The gentle one. The soft one. The one that meant he was about to do something stupid or noble, and I wouldn't be able to stop him.
"Elliot," I murmured, closing my textbook. "What's going on? Why are you dressed like you're late for a meeting with the Crown Prince?"
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "You always go straight to royalty."
"Well, you look like you're about to apply for adoption."
His smile faded.
"I'm going back to the Academy."
My heart thudded painfully. "Tonight? At—" I glanced at the clock. "—ten thirty?"
He nodded once.
"But your semester doesn't start for another month."
"It's not for classes."
My stomach tightened. "Then for what?"
He hesitated. That alone terrified me. Elliot never hesitated. Elliot coasted through life—carefree, witty, slippery in the ways only golden boys and born Alphas could be.
Instead, he walked over and crouched in front of me, taking both my hands in his. I felt his palms shake ever so slightly. That wasn't like him either.
"Elleanore," he said quietly, "there are things happening at the Academy that I wasn't supposed to see."
I swallowed. "Like what?"
His jaw tightened. "Things you'd be safer not knowing."
"No," I said immediately. "Don't give me that. You don't get to protect me by lying to me."
His gaze softened. "I'm not lying."
"Then tell me what you saw."
He shook his head once. "If I tell you, you'll be in danger too."
I wanted to scream. To grip his uniform collar and shake the truth out of him. But the fear in his eyes—that wasn't something I could fight. I knew Elliot too well. The last time he looked like this was when our father died. When he'd tried to act strong for both of us.
But this… this was different.
This was dread.
"Are you in trouble?" I whispered.
His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Not yet. But if I don't go back now, other people might be."
"What does that even mean—"
"Elleanore."
The way he said my name made my throat burn.
He took a breath. "I need you to accept something, even if you don't like it."
"What?"
"If something happens to me—"
"No." My voice cracked. "No, Elliot, don't start with—"
"Listen."
I wanted to pull away. But I didn't. I couldn't.
"You're stronger than you think," he said, squeezing my hands harder. "You always have been. Even when you cry easily. Even when you worry too much. Even when you think you're weak."
"I'm not strong," I whispered.
"You are," he insisted. "Stronger than me."
"That's not true."
"It is," he said simply.
The quiet stretched like a thin thread between us.
"Ellie… if something happens, I need you to do something for me."
My chest tightened. "I won't. I'm not making that kind of promise."
"You have to."
"No."
"Please."
The word froze me.
Elliot never said please unless he was desperate.
His voice lowered. "If I don't come back, you have to take my place at the Academy."
My breath shattered. "What?"
His grip moved to my shoulders. "You know the penalties if a student doesn't appear. They'll charge Mom for the entire contract. She'll lose the house. She'll lose everything."
"But I can't—Elliot, I'm an—"
"Omega," he finished quietly. "I know."
"Then how—"
"We're twins," he whispered. "Our scent signatures match. It's rare, but it happens when twins spend the first few weeks in the same amniotic cradle. Doctor Alonzo explained it when we were kids, remember?"
"I thought she was talking about allergies," I whispered.
A faint smile touched his lips. "No. She wasn't."
I stared at him, trembling.
"The Academy will test your scent," I said. "They'll know."
"Not if you use this."
He reached into his blazer and pulled out a small silver vial. Frost clung to the glass. I recoiled instinctively.
"Elliot… what is that?"
"A royal-grade suppressor," he said. "It'll mask everything—your scent, your heat markers, even your pheromone traces. It'll give you a window. Not forever. But long enough."
"For what?" I asked hoarsely. "To die in your place?"
His expression crumpled for just a second. "No. To survive in mine."
A tear escaped before I could stop it.
He wiped it with his thumb. "Ellie, please. If something happens to me, I need to know you'll be okay. That you won't drown under the fallout."
"You can't ask me to replace you."
"I'm not asking you to be me," he said. "I'm asking you to protect what's left."
"How am I supposed to enter an Alpha-only academy?" I whispered.
His eyes softened. "By being brave."
"That's not bravery, that's suicide."
"Maybe," he murmured. "But it's better than letting Mom lose everything."
My vision blurred.
"Elliot…"
He pulled me against him, hugging me like he used to when storms terrified us as kids.
"I'm coming back," he whispered into my hair. "I promise I'll come back."
He didn't.
Three hours later, I woke up on the couch with my textbook still open beside me.
Elliot was gone.
His duffel bag was missing.
The silver vial was gone.
His uniform was no longer hanging on the chair.
But his phone—his lifeline, his stubborn attachment, the thing he never left behind—lay shattered on the floor of his room, the screen splintered like it had been stepped on.
Mom didn't notice. She left early for work
I noticed.
And the house felt empty in a way I couldn't explain.
I tried calling him.
Straight to voicemail.
I tried messaging him.
Unread.
By the afternoon, I knew the promise he made was already broken.
By night, I knew the world was shifting under my feet.
By week's end, the letter came.
ROYAL TRISKELION ACADEMY
ATTENDANCE CONFIRMATION NOTICE
Elliot Jan Fonze has been marked PRESENT for mandatory induction.
Marked present.
Even though his phone was still in his room.
Even though he never came home
I read the words again and again until the ink blurred.
The Academy said he was there.
But my brother was nowhere.
And something in me—something trembling and furious and afraid—knew this wasn't a mistake.
It was a message.
A warning.
A silent threat.
Or a cover-up.
Probably all three.
My brother had vanished.
And the Academy expected him at induction.
One of us had to show up.
I felt the weight of the truth as heavy as his blazer in my hands.
If he didn't come back…
I would have to take his place.
The letter weighed almost nothing, but it felt heavier than any textbook I'd ever carried. I read it until the paper softened from the heat of my fingers.
Elliot Jan Fonze has been marked PRESENT.
Failure to appear at formal induction will result in contractual penalties.
The words glared up at me like a verdict.
My brother was missing.
The Academy claimed he was there.
And I—an Omega—was being told that an Alpha must arrive at induction.
It made no sense.
Unless the Academy wanted it that way.
Unless they needed a Fonze, any Fonze, standing at their gate.
Unless Elliot had uncovered something they didn't want reaching the outside world.
I should've stayed home that day. I should've locked myself in my room and cried into my sheets until my lungs hurt. I should've tried to figure out how to tell Mom the truth.
Instead, I went to school.
Because routine felt safer than the truth.
The hallways buzzed with post-exam chatter, but it all sounded distant—like it came from behind thick glass. My hands trembled as I opened my locker, unfolding and refolding Elliot's last note in my pocket until the creases threatened to split.
If something happens, take my place.
The words pulsed like a bruise.
"Elleanore?"
I stiffened at the voice I knew too well.
Oliver De Ruiz stood a few lockers down, blond hair catching the morning sun, uniform without a wrinkle. He looked like he stepped out of a student council poster—bright, perfect, annoyingly composed.
The same boy who let the world believe I belonged to him.
The same boy who never denied the whispers.
The same boy I thought might one day say something real.
I met his eyes.
"What?"
He hesitated, something like guilt flickering in his expression. "About yesterday—"
"Don't," I said.
"El, listen—"
"I said don't."
But he didn't stop. He never did.
"I shouldn't have pushed you about the scholarship," he admitted, jaw flexing. "I just… Julieta really needs help. And I thought—"
"That my future is less important than hers?" I asked quietly.
His mouth opened, then shut. He looked torn, conflicted, confused in a way I normally found endearing. Today it just hurt.
"I didn't mean it like that," he said.
"You did."
His face tightened. "You know I care about you."
"Do you?" I asked. "Or do you just like the idea of being the guy who protects me?"
Silence.
Then his shoulders dropped a fraction. "I don't want you to be mad at me."
"I'm not mad," I said. "I'm just… done."
The words surprised even me.
Oliver's eyes widened. "Done?"
"Yes."
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "El, we can fix this."
I forced myself to look at him one last time—the boy I used to imagine as part of my future. The boy I'd quietly loved for years.
And I realized he didn't know me at all.
"No," I said softly. "We can't."
I closed my locker and walked away.
Behind me, Oliver whispered my name like a question he'd never get the answer to.
By lunch, everyone had heard.
"Elleanore and Oliver fought."
"She rejected him."
"He finally picked Julieta."
"No, she walked away from him—did you see?"
Rumors tugged at me from every direction, sticky as spiderwebs.
Julieta herself sat beside the fountain, hair tied in her usual ribbon, hands folded delicately on her lap. She glanced at me with the shy, apologetic look she'd perfected.
I saw the truth beneath it.
Her eyes lingered too long.
Measured too much.
Calculated sympathy a little too precisely.
Jealousy had its own scent—sweet and rancid all at once. I smelled it on her now.
I turned away.
I shouldn't have been near the bleachers after school. I should've gone straight home to figure out how the hell I was going to step into Elliot's life. But my feet led me there anyway. Habit, maybe. Or the need to breathe somewhere quieter.
I found Oliver there.
He was pacing, running a hand through his blond hair in a way that made him look younger. More vulnerable. The version of him I used to comfort.
"Elleanore," he said again, softer this time.
I closed my jacket around me like armor. "What now?"
He walked toward me with the slow, cautious steps of someone approaching a wounded animal. "I shouldn't have pushed you. About Julieta. About everything."
"You already said that."
"I mean it."
"Doesn't change anything."
He exhaled sharply. "You're not being fair."
That snapped something deep inside me.
"Fair?" I echoed. "You want to talk about fair?"
He blinked. "El—"
"You let people think we were together just because you didn't want anyone else to get close to me. But you never chose me. Not once."
His mouth opened, stunned.
"You wanted the privilege of my loyalty," I said quietly, "without giving me anything of yours."
Oliver's face flushed—not with shame, but with something uglier: anger laced with insecurity.
"That's not true."
"It is."
His jaw clenched. "Fine. If you're going to be stubborn, then at least think this through logically."
My blood went cold.
Here it came.
"If you really care about someone," he said, "don't you want what's best for them?"
"Yes," I whispered. "I do."
"Then give up the scholarship," he said. "You'll get another. Julieta won't."
There it was.
The betrayal spoken plainly.
I almost laughed. It was easier than crying.
"You're unbelievable," I said. "You're really asking me to throw away everything I earned."
"I'm asking you to be compassionate."
"And I'm asking you to stop pretending you know what's best for me."
His expression hardened. "Don't be selfish."
The words felt like a slap.
But before I could respond, another voice cut through the air—low, rough, and edged with danger.
"You've got some nerve."
We both turned.
Chandler Monteverde stepped out from behind the bleachers, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, storm-grey eyes locked on Oliver with the kind of simmering fury you couldn't teach.
He moved with lazy confidence, but every line of his body screamed threat.
Oliver stiffened. "This is none of your business, Monteverde."
Chandler ignored him completely.
He walked up to me—closer than anyone ever dared—and brushed a fallen leaf from my shoulder. His fingers lingered just a second too long.
"You alright?" he asked softly, gaze never leaving mine.
My throat tightened. "I'm fine."
"Doesn't look like it," he murmured.
Oliver stepped forward. "Step away from her."
Chandler turned, slow, deliberate. His smirk was lethal.
"Or what?" he teased. "You'll guilt-trip her again?"
Oliver's face reddened. "This doesn't concern you."
"It does now." Chandler's voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. "You don't get to talk to her like that."
The tension in the air thickened, Alpha pheromones pressing against each other like colliding storms. Even from where I stood, it made my knees weak.
"Don't interfere," Oliver bit out.
"Then stop making her cry," Chandler shot back. "Or I'll give you a reason to."
For a moment, I thought they'd fight right there.
Oliver's jaw clenched.
Chandler's fists tightened.
And in the middle, I suddenly felt very, very small.
"Stop it," I whispered.
They both turned to me.
"I'm done with this conversation." My voice shook, but I stood straighter. "And I'm done letting either of you decide what I should do."
Oliver looked devastated.
Chandler looked… proud. And furious on my behalf.
"Elleanore—" Oliver called.
But I didn't look back.
Not even once.
When I got home that night, the house felt too quiet. Too hollow. Elliot's empty room glowed faintly from the hallway, the blanket rumpled, the broken phone still lying on the floor.
The letter sat on my desk.
Waiting.
Mocking.
Demanding.
I picked it up again.
Read the words again.
Felt the truth again.
Elliot wasn't coming back.
And if I didn't take his place at the Academy—
I would lose everything he tried to protect.
Mom.
Our home.
Our entire future.
I looked at my reflection in the window—soft eyes, long black hair, trembling lips.
An Omega girl with no place in an Alpha world.
But in the glass, I also saw something else.
A shadow of Elliot.
My twin.
My mirror.
His face layered over mine.
My breath hitched.
And without thinking—without giving myself the chance to fall apart—I whispered the words that would change everything:
"I'll go in your place."
My voice cracked.
"I'll be you."
Tears slipped down my cheeks, but I didn't wipe them away.
"For you, Elliot," I whispered. "I'll do it for you."
Outside, the night was silent again.
Too silent.
The kind that comes before a life is rewritten.