Stealing My Brother's Fate

ARIA'S POV

The phone buzzed at 3:47 AM, and I knew—before I even looked—that everything was about to change.

I grabbed it with shaking hands. The screen showed an unknown number, but the message preview made my heart stop: "Aria. It's me. They're coming. I—"

Asher.

My twin brother. Missing for three months. Declared a runaway by the police. Listed as "voluntarily withdrawn" by Royal Academy.

Dead, everyone whispered when they thought I couldn't hear.

My fingers flew across the screen, opening the full message. It was encrypted—typical Asher paranoia—but I knew his password. Our birthday backwards, combined with Mom's maiden name. I typed it in, and the message unlocked:

"Aria, if you're reading this, I'm either dead or about to be. Trust NO ONE at the Academy. RK knows what I discovered about the Legacy Program. They're killing students who don't fit their 'perfect' bloodlines. I tried to stop them. I failed. Don't come looking for me. Don't try to—"

The message cut off mid-sentence.

I stared at the screen, reading it again. And again. And again.

RK knows.

They're killing students.

Don't come looking for me.

"Too late, Ash," I whispered to my empty bedroom. "I'm already coming."

I didn't sleep the rest of that night. Instead, I sat at my desk, re-reading every text Asher had sent me before he vanished. Looking for clues I'd missed. Patterns I'd been too stupid to see.

Three months ago, Asher stopped calling me every Sunday like he always did. His texts got shorter. More paranoid.

"Can't talk now. Studying."

"Everything's fine. Stop worrying."

"I'll explain later. Promise."

But later never came. One day, Asher just... disappeared. His roommate said he packed a bag and left in the middle of the night. The Academy said he withdrew without explanation. The police found no signs of foul play.

Everyone moved on. Everyone except me.

Because I knew my brother. Asher didn't run away from problems—he ran toward them, fists swinging and mouth running. He was brave and reckless and stupid sometimes, but he never abandoned people he loved.

He wouldn't leave me without saying goodbye.

Which meant someone was lying.

I pulled up Royal Academy's website on my laptop. The elite school only accepted Alphas—the strongest, most dominant wolves in our society. Omegas like me weren't allowed past the front gates. We were considered too weak, too submissive, too much of a "distraction."

But Asher and I were identical twins—a rare mutation that meant we shared the exact same scent. In our wolf world, scent was identity. If I could mask my Omega nature with suppressants, I could pretend to be Asher. I could walk into that Academy, sleep in his room, attend his classes.

I could find out what happened to him.

The plan was insane. If they caught me, I'd be expelled at best. Arrested at worst. And if whoever killed Asher realized I was investigating them...

I pushed the thought away and opened my desk drawer. Inside was Asher's student ID, left behind when he came home for winter break. His face smiled up at me—messy dark hair, bright gray-green eyes, cocky grin that made everyone love him instantly.

I looked at my reflection in my phone's black screen. We had the same face, the same eyes, the same smile. The only difference was my hair—long and wavy where Asher's was short and messy.

That was easy to fix.

I grabbed scissors from my desk and walked to the bathroom. My hands didn't shake as I gathered my hair into a ponytail. I'd grown it out for five years. Maya said it made me look beautiful. Feminine. Soft.

Everything an Omega was supposed to be.

I cut it off in one long slice.

Dark hair fell into the sink like a shed skin. I kept cutting, shaping it shorter and shorter until it matched the photo on Asher's ID. When I finished, I looked in the mirror.

Asher stared back at me.

Same sharp jawline. Same messy hair. Same gray-green eyes that held secrets.

"I'm coming for you," I told my reflection. Told my brother, wherever he was. "And I'm going to make them pay."

The next morning, I told my best friend Maya that I was leaving.

"You're WHAT?" Maya shouted, nearly spilling her coffee across my kitchen table. "Aria, that's suicide! You can't just waltz into an Alpha-only school and pretend to be—"

"I already bought suppressants," I interrupted, showing her the pills I'd gotten from a shady online dealer. They were illegal and dangerous, but they would mask my Omega scent for weeks at a time. "I practiced Asher's walk, his talk, his mannerisms. I've got his ID and his class schedule. I can do this."

"And when they figure out you're lying? When your suppressants fail? When someone realizes you're an Omega?" Maya's voice cracked. "They'll kill you, Aria. Just like they probably killed Asher."

"Then I'll die knowing the truth," I said quietly. "But I won't sit here doing nothing while whoever murdered my brother walks free."

Maya stared at me for a long moment. Then she grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. "You're insane. But you're also the bravest person I know. Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."

It was a lie. We both knew it.

I took the first suppressant pill that afternoon. It burned going down, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. Within minutes, my Omega scent—soft oranges and honey—faded to nothing. In its place came Asher's scent: pine trees and rain.

I smelled like my brother. I looked like my brother.

Now I just had to become him.

I spent the next two days studying everything about Asher's life at the Academy. His favorite classes. His friends' names. His roommate—Kael Ashford, some rich Alpha heir who barely spoke to anyone.

RK knows, Asher's message had said. Could RK be Kael's initials backwards? KR instead of RK?

Or was I reaching, seeing conspiracies where there were none?

Only one way to find out.

I packed Asher's duffel bag with his clothes, his books, his stupid lucky coin that he carried everywhere. I memorized his handwriting, his jokes, the way he tilted his head when he was thinking.

I became a ghost wearing my brother's face.

On the third day, I boarded the bus to Royal Academy. Three hours through winding mountain roads. Three hours to second-guess everything. Three hours to wonder if I was brave or just stupid.

The Academy appeared through the trees like something from a dark fairy tale—all stone towers and iron gates and windows that looked like eyes. Beautiful and terrifying.

I took a deep breath, grabbed Asher's bag, and walked toward the entrance.

"Welcome back, Mr. Sinclair," the security guard said, checking Asher's ID without really looking at me. "Glad you decided to return."

I forced Asher's cocky grin. "Good to be back."

Lie number one of probably a thousand.

I found my way to Ashford Hall, climbing three flights of stairs to room 237. Asher's room. My brother's last known location before he vanished into thin air.

The door was unlocked. I pushed it open.

The room was split perfectly in half—one side messy and lived-in (Asher's), one side neat and organized like a museum (the roommate's, probably). Band posters covered Asher's wall. Books lined the other side's shelves.

And sitting on the neat bed, reading a book with silver eyes that looked up when I entered, was the most terrifying boy I'd ever seen.

Tall. Dark-haired. Handsome in a dangerous way that made my Omega instincts scream warnings.

Kael Ashford.

He stared at me for three long seconds. Then he closed his book slowly and stood up. He was at least six inches taller than me, and when he stepped closer, I had to fight the urge to back away.

"You're not Asher," Kael said quietly.

My blood turned to ice.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to sound confident. Trying to channel Asher's easy charm.

Kael moved faster than I could track. One second he was across the room. The next, his hand was gripping my wrist—not painful, but firm. Inescapable.

He leaned close, and I felt him inhale near my neck.

"You smell like Asher," Kael murmured. "Pine and rain. But there's something else underneath. Something..." He paused. "Sweet."

My suppressants. They were already failing.

Kael's silver eyes locked onto mine, and I saw something dangerous flicker there. Recognition. Suspicion.

And worst of all—interest.

"So I'll ask you one more time," Kael said, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Who are you really? And what did you do to my roommate?"