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“But I’m asking anyway. Because I love you and I really, really hope you love me, too.” The cocky smile fades as he says the last, and so does the prince. I’m left with the man, just the man—with the anxious green eyes and the worry lines on his forehead and the kindest, softest touch I’ve ever felt.
And I know, even though everything he’s just said is right, that it doesn’t matter to me. None of it matters to me, any more than the title and the money matter to me. Because, “I love you, too, Kian. I love you so much.”
He stares at me for one second, two, like he can’t believe what he’s heard. And then he’s kissing me like I’m the most important person in the world, like nothing matters but this moment and the two of us. It’s not true—I wouldn’t want it to be true even if it was—but for right now, it’s perfect.
When he finally lifts his mouth from mine, I take in great gulps of air. Watch as he does the same. Then tangle my hands in his hair and start to pull him back to me.
He comes willingly, but before our mouths can meet again, his phone is buzzing in his pocket. He stiffens as soon as it does, then rolls away from me.
“Is it about Garrett?” I whisper as he pulls it out of his jeans. I know it’s ridiculous for me to ask before he’s even looked at the thing, but I can’t help it. I can feel the tension in him.
My hands are clenched into fists, and my heart is beating way too hard as I wait for him to swipe his phone open, as I wait for him to answer me. I loved Garrett once and I love Kian now and both are reason enough to have me praying that the man I used to care about is safe.
“It’s starting early,” Kian tells me, voice hoarse and eyes wild.
“What is?”
“The extraction.” He’s off the bed in seconds, tucking his shirt into his jeans as he heads for the bedroom door. “I have to go. I’ll call you.” He drops a swift kiss on my mouth and then he’s gone, moving fast.
I’ve barely made it out of bed before he’s at the front door. I follow him anyway, at a dead run out of the house and down the walkway to the curb. “Is there anything you need?” I ask. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nothing,” he answers. He reaches for me again, this time dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks.”
His eyes are distracted though, his mind a million miles away as he climbs into the car.
“Call me when you get the chance, please” I tell him, breaking my own rule about never asking a guy for anything. “Just to let me know how things go, if Garrett’s okay.”
He nods as he pulls shut the door of the SUV. And then he’s speeding off into the night without a backward glance.
Chapter 26
Kian
I get off the helicopter in Montrose after four of the longest fucking hours of my life. Extracting Garrett only took one hundred and three minutes, and that was fucking horrific enough. But the last two hours, when I’ve been in transit here…if I thought it would get me here faster I would have jumped out midair.
But we’re here now, on the roof of the largest—and best—trauma center in Montrose province, and that’s all that matters.
Once I clear the helipad usually used by rescue helicopters, I race across the roof to the elevator that will take me to the intensive care unit—to Garrett—at breakneck speed. My father is right behind me, though he’s walking at a more civilized clip.
Fuck civilized. Especially when what they did to my brother was anything but.
Thankfully, the Royal Guard has already cleared the area, because I’m not waiting for anything or anyone. And the last thing I need right now is for Lucas or Niall to tackle me to keep me in place while they secure things.
I make it to the secure elevator that is waiting, doors open, to take us to Garrett and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to close the elevator doors before my father even makes it inside. But I wait, the reassurances of the doctors we spoke to on our way in ringing in my ears.
He’s alive.
Garrett is alive.
And he will recover.
He’s injured—a broken nose, numerous cracked ribs, broken fingers, a pretty bad concussion, and numerous other injuries that have healed badly over three months and will require surgery to rebreak and fix properly. Not to mention the fact that he’s one giant, bloody bruise—at least from the video we saw during the extraction.
Rage is a living, breathing animal inside of me. I want to kill the people who did this to my twin with my bare hands, want to tear them to pieces and then set those pieces on fire. And still it won’t be good enough. Still it won’t be enough to make up for what they did to my brother.
The fact that the bastards who did this are forever out of my reach doesn’t help matters. Raids have started at every known address to round up every member of the organization. But once they’re in the system, they will have lawyers and humane treatment and everything else that comes with being arrested in a constitutional monarchy. And while I believe in those rights for every citizen of this country—including these bastards—it’s killing me that I won’t be able to avenge my brother. Won’t be able to make the masterminds behind this fucking plan suffer the way Garrett has.
My father’s on the elevator now, all stone-faced and quiet like he gets in situations like these. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before…but in general, when shit goes bad, the king tends to go completely impassive.
