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“Welcome home,” I murmured with a wry grin.
But Kieran wasn’t amused. His eyes searched mine for a few moments before he said, “They just came and got your mom.”
That hole ripped wider and stole my breath.
His expression morphed to concern. “Did you want to see her—?”
“No. No, I just . . . I don’t know how to let this be real.” I rubbed at my aching eyes then ran my fingers through my hair, hating how it felt.
Hating how I felt.
Hating that last night, I’d been pressed against AJ, terrified of the nightmares he brought with him. And then this morning, I’d woken against my dead mother.
A hazy vision tore through my mind, stilling my body.
A beautiful, vicious man.
My man.
“I want to kill you for every time you ever touched her. Once will have to do.”
“Did you . . .” I began uncertainly, my voice as soft as a whisper. “Did you kill AJ?”
Kieran was so surprised his head jerked back. His pale eyes searched mine for long seconds before he finally asked, “You don’t remember?”
“I just . . . I just got a flash of last night.”
He curled his hands around my face and leaned close. “He’s gone, Chaos.”
My shoulders slumped and tears raced heavily down my cheeks.
“He’ll never touch you again,” he said gently. “He’s gone. The ghost is gone. And soon, Mickey will be too.”
I let my forehead fall to his and sat there for long minutes. “Thank you,” I breathed, my voice wavering. I sat back and wiped at my face just as a phone chimed. And then again and again.
Kieran glanced behind him at the sound, and it took a few seconds for me to notice the tension quickly filling the room or that he had gone still.
I leaned forward to reach for Kieran, but he stood and shifted away. His head tilted like he was listening for something—waiting for it—while the guys eyed each other with varying looks of confusion and apprehension.
None of them had phones in their hands.
Before I could ask what was happening, Beck gave a slight shake of his head and lifted his empty hands, and Kieran ground out, “Find it.”
I watched as all three started tearing apart the room. Within a minute, Conor made some kind of noise that got the others’ attention and tossed a phone in Kieran’s direction.
“There’s a lock on it,” he murmured and held the phone out for Beck. “But look at the number the messages are from.”
I jolted when I saw the case, standing and reaching for it from where I was across the room. “That’s mine.”
I glanced from the phone to Conor, and wondered if my phone had been on the entry table since the night I’d been dragged in here.
No, I would’ve seen it.
The slowness in which they all turned to look at me had me immediately halting.
“You have a phone?” Kieran asked, his tone cold.
Something that could have been helpful to any of the guys when they were sure Mickey was watching their phones. Something that could’ve eased worries and fears for Kieran during these last days while I’d been trapped in the guesthouse.
