Epilogue

Eight Months Ago

brAHM

Sitting on my bed, I held the old yearbook open to the picture I'd been drawing hearts around since I first laid eyes on Izzy Van Tassel. She was a work of art, a sculpture carved from flesh and bone, but could've been born of heaven and marble, and it would've had the same result.

My thumb ran over her face, and I closed my eyes, picturing her soft skin under my fingertips. I'd waited years for the moment to make my move, and the time had finally come. Standing from the bed, I walked to the wall that was covered in photos of Izzy. I'd been following her since we were tweens, and in all that time, she never noticed me. Not once did she lock eyes with me or smile. I was a ghost, a thing, and I might as well have walked around with no head for all it did to try and get her attention.

There was only one person Izzy had eyes for, despite who she dated, and that was my brother Branson. Unfortunately for her, my idiot of a brother was totally head over heels for Betsy Hardenbrook. He just couldn't see that Betsy was no good for him while Izzy would've given him the world.

That was fine. If my brother wanted to spend his life with his head up his ass, he could. I had a plan. Carefully putting the yearbook back into its spot, I pulled on my jacket and looked at myself in the mirror. God, I looked great. I smirked, and a dimple appeared on my left cheek. Perfect. Everything was perfect, and it was time.

Grabbing my keys, I walked to the car and drove the ten minutes across town. Pulling into the driveway, I looked in my rear-view mirror and then up and down the street to make sure no one was paying attention. It was past this sleepy little town's curfew, and everyone who lived in this neighborhood would be in bed by nine. But it was best to be safe.

Rolling my shoulders, I walked up to the door and readied the tranquilizer before knocking. I'd been waiting a very long time for this moment, and the anticipation had me practically bouncing with adrenaline. I knocked on the door and stood like a statue, waiting.

When the door opened, and I stared into my brother's confused eyes, I knew that all my sacrifices had paid off. The months of surgeries to look like him and working out so I was identical in every way. I'd gone so far as to measure his cock and had mine operated on to be a perfect replica. That had been tricky, but good drugs and a little blue pill later, I was able to take all the measurements I needed.

"What the fuck," Branson said as he looked me up and down. "Who the hell are you, and why do you look like me?"

"Hello, brother," I said, and his mouth dropped open. I would give anything to capture this moment and just relive it forever.

He was in far too much shock to notice the syringe I pulled out of my pocket. Branson looked at me with surprise as I lunged at him and stuck him in the neck. His hand grabbed my arm, and his eyes went wide before they glazed over and closed. I helped lower him to the ground and closed the door, locking it behind me.

I patted him on the cheek. "You don't know how good you could have it, but I do. Don't worry. I won't let you throw your life away on that waste of space, Betsy. It's time I took over, you clearly suck at your job and your personal life. Mom and Dad handed you everything, and all of you always underestimated me, but no more." I chuckled as I stood and stared down at my useless brother. "It's time the real Branson Crane took over this town and saved his one true love. It will be epic, brother. I'm going to make you a hero, and I promise you'll have a front-row seat to it all before you meet your untimely and tragic end."

I looked up at the ceiling, and smirked at the sound of the shower. Step one complete, now on to step two.

"Cheers to the Horseman."