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I’d only made it to the end of the table when Kieran spoke. His voice was low and even, but still rang with authority. “You’re staying here—in my old room. It’s the best way to protect you.”
I turned to look at him, that familiar resentment building slowly inside me as I did.
The first time he’d spoken directly to me since before our lives had been turned upside down—again—and it was to give me orders.
Save Lily. Protect Lily. Hide Lily. Cage Lily.
It hit me so suddenly it nearly knocked me back a step.
Last night. That first kiss. Feeling like Dare had freed me but not knowing what from . . .
It was this.
All of this. Holloway and Kieran and his constant need to protect me in a way that suffocated me.
I’d grown up on these grounds . . . I’d spent nearly every day of my life on them. Even throughout the years I’d wanted to escape the mob, there’d been no doubt I was protected within the confines of Holloway.
But this was no longer a fortress. It was no longer a safe place. It was a prison.
Mickey was my warden and Kieran was the man who had betrayed my heart and trust to keep me there.
They’d stolen the little freedom I had. And they’d left me with nothing more than a window and some guards.
“I know how to best protect me,” I said tightly, my voice wavering as everything from the last week began to overwhelm me. “That’s something you should’ve considered a long time ago.”
I left the conference room and house without looking back as I headed to the guesthouse—my refuge and cell the last four years—and came to an abrupt stop when I opened the front door.
Lamps wer
e shattered. Chairs and couches were overturned. Curtains had been torn from the wall and were heaped on the floor. The cabinets were open in the kitchen.
And that was only what I could see of the front room.
I took a hesitant step inside, then another just as a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
“You shouldn’t go in there, Lil.”
I looked back at Conor, and wished I could take away the agony that so openly played out on his face. As massive and terrifying as Beck and Conor were, they were polar opposites.
Beck had been born for this life. Conor should’ve never seen it. He was too sensitive to survive this cruel world, but they were all each other had. And once Mickey had gotten a look at the brothers, he’d wanted them in Holloway.
If it weren’t for Kieran taking Conor under his wing, I don’t think he would’ve made it, knowing and seeing the things he did on a daily basis.
“This is my house, Conor.”
“Kieran doesn’t want—”
“It isn’t his decision.” I twisted so I could squeeze his too-muscular forearm when I whispered, “It was his decision for you not to be here. Stop beating yourself up.”
Conor’s expression went blank as he studied me.
Kieran would’ve never told me he’d called Conor off, and Conor knew it. I could see him trying to figure out how I knew, but he was loyal to Kieran.
“How’d you get out, Lil?” he finally asked.
“I ran.”
“But how?”
