Page 28 of Irrevocably

An expression I can’t read crosses his face, then it’s gone, his features hardening. “Who is telling you this bullshit? Where did you hear it?”

Lucien. Lucien Frost. Do you know him? Does he have anything to do with your club? Do you know that he saved me from an attack tonight then he kissed me and now I can’t stop thinking about it?

The memory of that kiss stings my mouth; I can still feel the slight throb from where he nipped me. It makes me go hot all over. I should tell Wolf about Lucien and what he did, and what he wants from me, but the words stay trapped in my throat.

I don’t want to explain about Lucien, because then questions will be asked. About why I didn’t tell anyone about him choking me on the beach, or threatening me in the alley, or kissing me in the parking lot. About why I watched him kill a man then let him kiss me.

But those are practical reasons. There’s also the part of me that doesn’t want anyone to know about him, that wants to keep him a secret. A dark secret. And once people know about him, he won’t be my secret anymore.

“Someone at college. It was in a group chat.” I drain the rest of my tea, put the cup down and stare at him. “Please, Connor. Just tell me if it’s true or not.” I use his given name deliberately, reminding him of our friendship and what we once were to each other, when we were little kids and he used to protect me from the bullies in the yard.

His gaze flickers. “Sorry, Addie,” he says. “The club always comes first.” He sounds genuinely regretful about it, but also firm.

“So, if this was life or death,” I keep on, knowing he won’t tell me, but hammering away all the same. “You’d say the same thing? You’d put the club before me?”

His expression shuts down then, like a door slamming in my face. “I swore an oath to the club, to my brothers. So, yes. The club comes before everything else, including you.”

I shouldn’t have pushed him. I shouldn’t have kept insisting, because now I know exactly how important I am to him. Not as important as his goddamn club, and it … hurts.

You’re not important to your father, either. So, who are you important to?

The thought is barbed, hooks sinking into me and catching on my skin, while the balloon in my chest inflates and inflates, pressing against my ribs and my heart, and my lungs.

When I was a little kid, I never questioned Dad’s love. He never said it to me, but I knew because of the way he took care of me. It was only as I grew up and he began drawing away from me that I started to question. I thought maybe it was because I had a hot temper, so I tried not to get angry. I tried not to throw tantrums or be rebellious. I became a model student.

Yet that didn’t fix things. He hardly talks to me now, doesn’t like looking at me. Doesn’t seem to give a shit what I do, so really, how important am I to him? And do I count Rowan? She’s my friend, and we hang out, but she’d get along just fine without me.

What about Lucien?

Him? He’s a killer. A psychopath who just happened to kiss me. I’m not important to him. He wants the information I can get him, nothing more, though it’s looking as if I can’t get that, either.

I want to keep insisting, plead even, but there’s no point. Wolf isn’t going to budge and trying to make him will only alert his suspicions. His loyalty is to his club, and I have to let it go.

At least I know that now, though. At least I know where I stand.

“Okay.” I can’t keep the hurt from my voice. “Then I guess we have nothing else to talk about.”

His black brows draw down. “Fuck’s sake. That doesn’t mean I can’t be your friend. Come on. It doesn’t mean you’re not important to me, either.”

But I push myself off the couch. The weight of my fear and my loneliness is crushing, and it’s hard to breathe. I need to let it out. It’s a wound that needs to be drained.

“I’m tired,” I say shortly. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Addie—”

“Please, Wolf. I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”

He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t like where we’ve left things. But I don’t have the energy to make things okay for him, not now, so I say nothing, and finally he gets to his feet. “Okay, fine, I’ll go.” He pauses beside me, concern replacing the hard look on his face, and lifts a large hand, cupping the side of my face in exactly the same way Lucien did earlier. “Get some sleep, huh? You look wrung out.”

His concern feels like steel wool against a wound, though, and I pull away. “Thanks,” I say quickly. “I will.”

He leaves after that without a word. I don’t even get a hug.

Chapter Fourteen

LUCIEN

I’m sitting in my car on Astrid’s street, watching her talk to her Hellhound friend on my camera. Took me a bit of time to clean up the blood and get rid of Moretti’s carcass, but that’s something you can’t rush. Sloppiness will get you killed or put you in prison, and neither is an option for me.