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My head throbs as I swallow down the medication. Bran sits down on the bed and his movements are foggy, disconnected almost.
“I was so worried about you.” He carefully touches my arm. “Do you need anything?”
I shake my head, feeling the discomfort subside a little. “Where’s Killian?”
His expression loses all softness. “He went after the one who did this to you.”
“No…” I let out in a breath.
“Unfortunately, yes. Lan went with him, and all his club’s leaders, naturally.”
I throw off the cover and attempt to stand. Obviously, I overestimate my ability to move because I fall right back down.
Bran catches me before I hit the floor and forces me back on the bed. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“I have to stop them. They’re playing right into his hands. He did this to lure both Killian and Lan out, to start a war and instigate chaos. I don’t want to be the reason for that, Bran.”
“I think it’s already too late, little princess.”
A lump catches at the back of my throat and I don’t know if I want to scream or cry.
The door opens and we both turn to find Killian standing there, one arm limp by his side. Splashes of blood cover his hand, neck, and the collar of his shirt, but his face appears clean, ethereal.
Twisted.
This is how I imagine serial killers look when they go home, completely detached, probably even elated due to satisfying their bloodlust.
He slides his bloodied fingers through his hair as if affirming the image I just had.
This is the part where I should feel scared, terrified, but my heart breaks instead.
Without the rose-colored glasses, I can clearly see where this is headed. Or maybe I did see it, but I kept lying to myself.
Upon catching sight of me, he pauses in his tracks, and a light shines in his eyes as he reaches me in a few steps.
I’ll never get used to how all-encompassing Killian’s presence is. How he’s able to eat up my attention without even trying.
When he’s close, I lose sense of anything else. My whole being flocks to him the way ravens congregate to ominous places.
Bran makes way for him and mouths that he’ll be right outside.
Killian doesn’t even seem to notice that my brother has left the room and closed the door as he sits on the bed, taking my hand in his. His thumb—bloodied thumb—strokes the back of it. His other hand remains unmoving, hanging by his side. “Do you feel better? Have you taken painkillers?”
I nod soundlessly, my chest aching with each breath I take as I whisper, “Did you kill him?”
The apparent softness disappears, letting his demons rear their ugly heads. “What if I did?”
My stomach drops and the breaking sound of my heart from earlier gets louder, deafening even. I try to pull my hand away from his, but he only tightens his fingers.
“Don’t. You know full well that I don’t like it when you slam the door in my face.”
“And you think I like it when I see you all bloody like this?”
“Did you expect me to stay still after he dared not only to touch you but to also fucking beat you?”
“No, but I thought you’d beat him, maybe, and God knows he’d deserve it, but not that you would kill him. I thought you’d think about it from my perspective. If you had, then you would’ve realized the guilt of being behind someone’s death would crush me.”
“How about my perspective then? You’re the one who keeps my demons at bay, the one who makes me look forward to new days. You’re the only red in my black-and-white world. You’re my fuckingpurpose, but he hurt you. He put his hands on what belongs to me. Onmygirl.” He wraps a hand around my throat. It’s not harsh, just enough to tell me who’s in control. “Listen to me and listen to me well, Glyndon. I spent my whole life repressing my true nature, but I’d willingly embrace my demons for you. I’d turn into the devil, a monster, and whatever weapon I have to be if it means I can protect you. You will never,everquestion me about it, do you hear me?”
