Chapter 1 Wrong Sister
“Wrong sister.”
The words came softly from behind him.
Not angry.
Not frightened.
Almost amused.
The man froze.
His fingers stopped halfway toward the pistol tucked beneath his jacket.
For three full seconds, he didn’t turn around.
The abandoned house had been silent when he entered.
He had checked.
Front room.
Kitchen.
Hallway.
Bathroom.
Both bedrooms.
Nobody.
He’d even checked beneath the beds because the people who hired him had been very specific about the woman he was supposed to find.
Young.
Black.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
And identical to somebody even worse.
He had laughed when they told him that part.
He wasn’t laughing now.
“You hear me?”
The woman behind him sounded closer.
“Wrong. Sister.”
His hand moved.
Fast.
Not fast enough.
Something struck the back of his knee.
His leg folded.
He hit the floor.
Before he could shout, a sneaker planted itself between his shoulder blades.
His pistol disappeared from his waistband.
“Damn.”
She sounded disappointed.
“This what they sent?”
The man twisted his head.
He saw black jeans.
A black hoodie.
Then her face.
And his blood went cold.
Because he knew that face.
Everybody hunting the twins knew that face.
“Nuru.”
She smiled.
Pretty smile.
Wrong eyes.
“See?” she said. “Now you gettin’ it.”
He swallowed.
“I—I wasn’t—”
“Don’t.”
Nuru crouched beside him.
She turned his own pistol over in her hand, examining it like she was deciding whether she liked the weight.
“You came in here with a picture of my face in your pocket and a gun on your hip. Whatever sentence you ’bout to make up is probably gonna irritate me.”
“I was looking for Lulit.”
Nuru’s smile disappeared.
There it was.
The mistake.
The man knew it immediately.
He tried to correct himself.
“I mean—”
“You was lookin’ for my sister?”
“Nuru, listen—”
“Who told you her name?”
Silence.
Nuru leaned closer.
“See, now we got a problem.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“That ain’t what I asked.”
“I was paid.”
“By who?”
“I never met him.”
“Him?”
The man shut his eyes.
Nuru laughed quietly.
“You really bad at this.”
He felt the barrel of the pistol touch the side of his neck.
“Phone.”
“What?”
“Your phone. Gimme.”
“It’s in my—”
“I know where pockets are.”
She reached into his jacket and removed it herself.
Locked.
She held it near his face.
“Open it.”
“I can’t.”
Nuru stared at him.
He corrected himself quickly.
“I mean—I shouldn’t.”
“That sentence make more sense to you?”
His breathing became shallow.
Nuru waited.
Finally, he gave her the code.
She unlocked the phone.
Messages.
Calls.
Photographs.
A picture of Nuru.
Another picture.
Same face.
Different woman.
Lulit.
Nuru’s thumb stopped moving.
The photograph had been taken from across a street.
Lulit stood outside a convenience store.
Unaware.
Someone had been watching her.
Nuru’s expression changed.
The humor vanished.
The man beneath her noticed.
That frightened him more than the smile had.
“Who took this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
“I swear.”
“When?”
“What?”
“When was this taken?”
“Three days ago.”
Nuru looked at the image again.
Three days.
Somebody had followed Lulit three days ago and neither twin had noticed.
That shouldn’t have been possible.
Not anymore.
Nuru rose.
The pressure disappeared from his back.
For half a second, the man thought she was letting him go.
Then she said, “Get up.”
He slowly pushed himself onto his knees.
“Am I free to leave?”
Nuru looked at him.
“Why would you ask somethin’ stupid like that?”
He stopped moving.
She walked toward the front door.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“We goin’ to see my sister.”
His face drained.
“No.”
Nuru stopped.
Looked over her shoulder.
The smile returned.
“Nall, don’t switch up now. You was just lookin’ for her.”
* * *
Lulit woke at 2:13 in the morning because someone was breathing in her bedroom.
Her eyes opened.
She didn’t move.
Darkness covered the room.
The window was closed.
Curtains still.
Bedroom door cracked exactly as she had left it.
Breathing.
Slow.
Controlled.
Not hers.
Lulit stared at the ceiling.
Most people woke frightened.
Lulit woke calculating.
Distance to nightstand.
Two feet.
Knife beneath pillow.
Closer.
Gun beneath dresser.
Too far.
Lamp.
Heavy enough.
She slid one hand beneath the pillow.
Her fingers closed around the knife.
The breathing stopped.
Lulit smiled in the darkness.
“Now why you stop?”
Nothing.
“You was doin’ so good.”
A shape moved near the closet.
Lulit threw the knife.
A curse exploded from the darkness.
She rolled off the mattress as something slammed into the wall where her head had been.
Lulit came up low.
The intruder rushed her.
She caught his wrist.
Turned.
Elbow.
Throat.
Knee.
The man staggered backward.
Lulit drove him into the dresser.
“Who sent you?”
He swung.
She ducked.
His fist broke the lamp.
“Okay.”
Lulit stared at the shattered lamp.
“That was mine.”
He charged again.
She sidestepped.
His momentum carried him past her.
Lulit grabbed the back of his shirt and smashed his face against the bedroom door.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He collapsed.
She stood over him.
“You owe me a lamp.”
The man groaned.
Lulit reached for the light switch.
Nothing.
Power had been cut.
“Cute.”
She pulled her phone from beneath the pillow.
No service.
Her expression hardened.
Somebody hadn’t simply broken into her home.
They had prepared.
Lulit looked toward the hallway.
The apartment was silent.
Too silent.
She stepped over the unconscious intruder.
Then stopped.
A floorboard creaked downstairs.
One person in the bedroom.
Someone else below.
Maybe more.
Lulit backed toward the dresser and retrieved the pistol taped beneath it.
She checked the magazine.
Full.
“Y’all picked the wrong house tonight.”
A voice floated from downstairs.
“Lulit.”
She froze.
Not because they knew her name.
Because of how the man said it.
Like he knew her.
“Come downstairs.”
Lulit remained silent.
“We’re not here to kill you.”
She looked at the unconscious man bleeding onto her rug.
“Coulda fooled me.”
“We need to talk.”
“At two in the mornin’?”
No response.
Lulit moved into the hallway.
Slowly.
Bare feet silent against the floor.
Gun raised.
“You cut my lights, jammed my phone, broke in my bedroom, and your boy tried to crack my skull.”
The voice answered, “He was told not to touch you.”
Lulit glanced back toward the bedroom.
“Well, somebody need to work on employee orientation.”
She reached the staircase.
A man stood in the living room below.
Gray suit.
No visible weapon.
Older.
Maybe fifty.
Salt-and-pepper beard.
He looked up at her.
And smiled.
Lulit’s finger tightened against the trigger.
Something about his face bothered her.
Not familiarity exactly.
Something underneath it.
Recognition without memory.
“Who are you?”
“My name won’t mean anything to you.”
“Then you already wastin’ my time.”
“It would mean something to your mother.”
Lulit went still.
The man saw it.
That tiny reaction.
He smiled wider.
Bad decision.
Lulit descended three steps.
“My mother is dead.”
“So you were told.”
The gunshot exploded through the house.
The bullet struck the wall beside his head.
He flinched.
Lulit didn’t.
“That was your free one,” she said. “Next sentence better be amazing.”
The man slowly lifted his hands.
“You and Nuru have spent your entire lives believing a lie.”
“Everybody say stuff like that right before they try sellin’ you somethin’.”
“You were separated once before.”
Lulit’s smile faded.
“When you were children.”
“Stop.”
“You don’t remember.”
“I said stop.”
“But Nuru does.”
That hit harder.
Lulit stared at him.
“No.”
“She remembers the room.”
“What room?”
The man looked toward the front window.
As though expecting someone.
Then back at Lulit.
“The room that knew your names.”
A vehicle screamed to a stop outside.
The man’s expression changed.
Lulit heard doors.
Then Nuru’s voice from the porch.
“LULIT!”
Lulit’s head snapped toward the entrance.
The man in the gray suit whispered, “Too late.”
The front door flew open.
Nuru entered with a terrified stranger shoved ahead of her.
She saw Lulit.
Saw the gun.
Saw the gray-suited man.
Everything playful disappeared from her face.
“No.”
Lulit looked at her sister.
“You know him?”
Nuru didn’t answer.
“Nuru.”
The gray-suited man smiled.
“Hello again.”
Nuru raised her pistol.
Her hand trembled.
Lulit had seen her sister angry.
Laughing.
Bleeding.
Fighting.
She had watched Nuru stare down men twice her size without blinking.
She had never seen her afraid.
Until now.
“Nuru,” Lulit said quietly. “Who is he?”
Nuru’s eyes never left the man.
“He ain’t supposed to be alive.”
The gray-suited man tilted his head.
“And neither are you.”
The lights came back on.
For one sharp second, the entire house glowed.
Then Lulit saw something painted across the living-room wall behind him.
Two names.
Written in red.
NURU.
LULIT.
And beneath them—
WELCOME HOME.
