Doppelgänger

Seven

Azura's POV:

I shouldn't have let him in.

That thought burned in my mind, circling endlessly as I stood there, staring at him like he was a stranger who had walked in from some nightmare. He was. He is. The weight of it hit me harder with every second that passed, every word that left his mouth. He wasn't Asher's friend. He was something else. Something much worse.

But it was too late now. I had already opened the door. I had already let him in. How naive. How stupid.

"Who's Oksana?" I found myself asking, my voice barely above a whisper. It was the only thing I could cling to—the name he had thrown at me, as if I should have known who she was. But I didn't. I had never heard of anyone named Oksana in my life. And yet, somehow, that name felt like a weight around my neck, like it held something dangerous that I wasn't ready to face.

He smiled, calm, patient, like a teacher with a slow student. "How about we sit down, and I tell you a story?"

A story. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to do anything but sit here and listen to this man who had barged into my life like he had some kind of right to be here. Instead, I backed away, reaching for the door, my hand trembling against the cold metal of the doorknob.

Then his words froze me in place.

"This matter concerns your brother as well."

Asher? My heart pounded in my chest, louder than anything else in the room. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, like this man had somehow pulled the rug out from under me, and now I was free-falling, unsure of where I would land.

"I don't want to be in the same room as you," I whispered, my voice cracking, raw with fear.

He didn't flinch. His smile grew colder, sharper. "Sweetheart, you shouldn't have opened the door in the first place."

I froze, every muscle in my body locking up in terror. His tone was different now, sharper, fed up. Dangerous. I could feel it—the shift in the air. Whatever game he was playing, I wasn't going to win. Not like this.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for argument.

I obeyed. Not because I wanted to. But because I didn't know what else to do. Fear had a tight grip on me, squeezing tighter with every second I sat there.

Where are you Asher!

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving mine. "Your brother has every right to be scared. After what he's done It was a coward's move. And it destroyed lives."

Asher? A coward? No. Not Asher. My Asher. My brother wasn't a coward. He couldn't be. I wanted to scream at him, tell him to shut up, but the words died in my throat. I just sat there, waiting, terrified of what might come next.

"You think you know him," the man continued, his voice soft but cutting. "But you don't. You don't know the real monster he is."

The words felt like a slap across my face. I couldn't take it anymore. "What are you even trying to say?" I snapped, my voice coming out louder than I intended, filled with all the fear and anger I had tried to keep at bay.

He didn't react, didn't even blink. "Calm down. It's not a way to talk to someone older than you."

I couldn't take it anymore. I shot up from my seat, my hand reaching for the door again. "Get out!" I shouted, the panic rising in my chest like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me.

But he stayed calm, infuriatingly calm, like none of this was phasing him. "Who is Oksana?" he asked again, his voice colder this time, more direct.

I stared at him, my mind racing, spinning out of control. I didn't know. I didn't know who Oksana was. And what did she have to do with Asher?