I close my eyes at the flashback, the pain still vivid all these years later.
Pain. Blood. Cruel laughter. I was sixteen years old, running for my life, only to be dragged back and overtaken. Beaten. None of the blind rage I’d experienced before. This was slow. A lesson, but I was only the messenger. A boot to my ribs. A knee driven between my legs. Tearing. A heavy boot to my belly. Blood. So much blood.
I try to blink it away. The memory clears like the foggy remnants of a nightmare. His gaze narrows on mine.
“Were you and O’Rourke a couple?”
I grit my teeth and glare at him. Just when I think he’s got some redeeming qualities, he shows his true colors. “No, youasshole.I wanted to be with the Irish so I could have their protection, butthey kept me apart from them. O’Rourke treated me like one of his men but with less respect.” I roll my eyes. “God.”
It gnaws at me. I wanted more than they gave me, and it doesn’t seem fair. The memory of what happened—the rejection from the Irish, knowing they have no allegiance to me anymore, that they don’t owe me anything—it aches.
And the man in front of me now—one second, I feel like he cares, but I know it’s only attraction. He doesn’t care about me. He wants to punish me, to hurt me.
When he leans in and buries his nose in my hair, I freeze, curious. He inhales, deep and long, as if allowing my scent to invigorate him.
"What are you doing?"
A lazy smirk tugs at his lips. "I like the way you smell. I had a dream about you last night.”
"Did you?"
"Yeah. Can’t get you out of my fucking mind."
He says it like a confession. Like a curse.
"Let’s finish shopping."
I don’t like being outside in public for long. But before I can argue, a shadow behind him catches my attention.
The entire square is alive with movement—noise, shuffling, voices. I’ve seen chaos before. Thrived in it. But there’s something about today that sends a cold shiver sliding down my spine.
Matvei has enemies. So do I.
A flicker in the crowd—eyes locking onto mine. A shadow where there shouldn’t be one. A face too familiar. Too wrong.
My breath hitches.
For the first time in years, I feel real fear.
Not even with Matvei did I feel like this.
My muscles tense.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I saw something that unnerved me, but I couldn’t tell you what."
His voice is low, unreadable. "Try."
His grip tightens just enough to ground me. Just enough to force me back to the present.
Swallowing hard, I glance back to where the figure had been. But there’s nothing.
Maybe it’s just paranoia catching up to me.
I shake my head. "I’m okay."
He doesn’t press, just nods. Then he takes my hand, leading me forward, on the outside of the road, as always. Close enough that our arms brush—a silent shield between me and the rest of the world.
