Protecting me?He’s never protected me.
Snapping my wrist, I groan, and he shoves me back a step. Cuffing Junior on the head, his body crumples to the dirty floor.
“You fucking prick,” I seethe.
Surging forward, I try to grab my gun—mygun, not his—intent on finishing this.
Without Junior, so many problems could disappear. His involvement. His bullshit attacks. His family. All of it goes away.
Pushing me back, Killian swings Junior over his shoulder. “Enough, Maeve. It’s done.”
My mouth parts. “What do you think you’re going to do? Keeping me from killing our enemy?” Lifting my shirt, I point to the star-shaped scar under my left breast. “Do you not remember stitching this wound?”
His eyes darken, lips pressed together. “Of fucking course I do?—”
“Heput it there.” I point my finger. “Among many other broken bones or knife wounds. And you’re letting him get away with all the shit he’s done. He broke in here—he damaged product. I’ve killed for a lot this.”
Adjusting his jaw, Killian heaves Junior’s body higher on his shoulder.
“There are more important things than revenge.”
I laugh. It’s cruel and ugly. “That’shilariouscoming from you.” Crowding him, I poke his chest. “Explain,Reaper, what’s more important than getting revenge on the bastard who’scaused me so much pain? The asshole who thought he couldownCollins?” My eyes search his, pleading with him to understand. “The prick who let his brother berapeddaily so he could make money. Who financed Dom’s coup to take Sloane? They’reyourfamily, too. What’s more important thanthem?”
I blink once, and his hand grabs my throat. Even with a man on his shoulder, he pulls me close so easily, fingers pressing against my pulse. My vision swims, and I cough against the sudden air restriction.
“Your. Fucking.Life,” he growls menacingly. “That’s what’s more important to me. What’salwaysbeen more important. You living to fight another goddamn day.”
He sounds honest—he’s practically pleading with me.
No.
I won’t be tricked into thinking he cares about me. Not again.
Slipping a knife from my thigh, I slice the wrist holding my neck, and he recoils, hissing through his teeth. Blood falls in fat drops, marring my chest, and I heave, fresh oxygen filling my lungs.
“You don’t get to pretend to care about me.” Panting, I hold my knife, my only weapon like a shield. “Not after what you did.”
“Dropit, Maeve.”
Glaring, I stay silent, knife a shield.
Throwing Junior to the ground, he rushes me, pinning my wrist to the wall, his bloody hand pinching my face. Copper assaults my nose as he leans forward. It’s not anger in his gaze—no, that’d be too simple. It’s black hunger—so tainted, so putrid, my stomach flips, and I shudder.
Not in fear, though. Never in fear with Linwood. It’s a depraved craving so strong, my soul yearns for his special brand of darkness. Where I can succumb to the rotten love, and bask in something so unholy that only Killian can understand it.
“And what did I do,hm?” he taunts. “Other than give you everything I am. Everything I have. What have I done other than be destroyed by you?”
Baring my teeth, I snap, “You gave menothing.”
“I gave youeverything,” he growls, voice shaking. He slams me back against the wall. Stars appear in my eyes, and a soft gasp leaves my lips.
Swallowing, he watches my face, captivated by the red that smears over my cheeks.
“Everything, Maeve,” he whispers reverently. “It might be tainted, impure, and rotten. But whatever I have is yours.”
Scoffing, I shake him off. “Mine? Hardly. If it was, you wouldn’t have left the night after I told youI loved you.” The words hurt to say.
I’ve never told anyone I love them—only him. And then he was gone, leaving me to the darkness, alone.
