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“She’s the woman I love.”
Saint cocks his head and glances at me. “Tell me you didn't let him use ya.”
“It’s not like that—”
“And I’m supposed to believe this fucker actually cares for you?”
“Saint.” Keira’s voice is weak, but it stops him. “He was terrified.”
His head turns toward her.
“At the yard,” she murmurs. “I’ve never seen him afraid of anything until he couldn’t find Sera.”
“This isn’t a bullshit game.”
My pulse races as I reach beneath my jumper and pull the chain free. The letter F appears first, and the ring follows, settling against my chest.
“I’m in love with him.”
My brother stares at the diamonds burning beneath the harsh hospital light.
“We’re engaged.”
His gaze jerks from the ring to Fionn, then back to me. “You’re going to marry Fionn Harrington.”
“I am.”
“You’re going to marry Fionn Harrington?” he repeats. “What the fuck have I missed?”
Fionn’s fingers loosen around mine, leaving me free to step away. However, I tighten my grip instead.
“He came when he heard we were under attack and took a bullet saving me. The Harringtons are the ones with stitches, Saint. Don’t blame him for what happened tonight.”
My brother’s fists curl at his sides. “How long has this been going on under my nose?”
“Since the night his men kidnapped me.” I glance at Fionn. “There were two dead Harrington men in the barn that night. You wanted to know what happened and I wouldn't tell ya. Well, that’s because I killed one and he killed the other.”
Saint’s eyes narrow as he processes everything. “And you expect me to accept him when he kills his own men?”
“I’ll kill anyone who hurts her,” Fionn says, his voice rough and gritty. “Right now, my sister needs you beside her, and I’m staying beside yours.”
Saint turns away and drags a hand down his face. “Jesus fuck…”
“I’m not asking Sera to choose me over her family,” Fionn continues. “She’ll be my wife, but she’ll always be your sister.”
Keeping my fingers linked with Fionn’s, I hold my other hand out to Saint.
“Ciaran.” His real name draws him back to me. “We’ve lost Ma tonight. I’m not losing you, too.”
Saint stares at my open palm, his brow creased. After a few racing heartbeats, his hand closes around mine.
He pulls.
Fionn releases my other hand before Saint hauls me into his chest. One arm locks across my back while his other hand cups the back of my head, crushing my face against smoke-stained cotton.
“You’re not losing me,” he says into my hair.
My fingers knot in his shirt. His heart pounds against my ear. Ma’s has stopped, and none of us knows whether Rafe’s is still beating.
