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He wasn’t in control, and no matter the situation, I fucking liked it.
I liked it a lot.
“You will speak only when I allow you to,” Tristan said coldly, looking at Eddie, before his attention turned back to me. I liked to believe that once upon a time he was a force to be reckoned with. A man that would do anything for those he loved, that would destroy the enemies threatening to take away his family.
Now he was just a shell of his former self, fighting his own brother over someone that wasn’t worth it anymore. Someone that would’ve probably screwed him over.
He came closer to me, until there was barely a foot between the two of us, and looked at me, reading me, observing and taking notes. I had no doubt that he was a master at this game, but I wasn’t going to let him get to me. I wasn’t going to allow him to see the deepest, darkest parts of me. He'd freed Eddie, brought him here, and while I wanted to feel sad for the man he used to be, I had to remember that he was the enemy now.
He was the sickness killing Cillian, and if I could do anything to stop him, I would.
“You’re not what I expected you to be,” he finally said, his deep rumble wrapping around my bones, reminding me of Cillian. “Then again, my brother always did have a type.”
“And what type would that be?”
“Fearless,” he hummed, kneeling in front of me. “Powerful without even lifting a single finger.” His eyes dragged over my legs, my chest, finally landing on my face. “Dangerous,” he whispered the last word. “I thought you would be like her, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Like who?” I asked. Who was this man comparing me to?
“Ophelia,” he bit out, chewing that name as if it brought him pain. “Ophelia Aster. But you’re not like her. You’re nothing like her.”
I had no words left to say as he compared me to another woman. A woman I have never met, but I'd heard her name when Cillian spoke of her. But when he spoke of her there was no love hiding in those sentences. There was no longing in his eyes when he mentioned her. There was respect, the love you would feel toward your sibling, but not toward a lover.
“I have no idea who you are talking about,” I murmured, looking down at him, begging my body to stay calm as he knelt in front of me, his eyes seeing more than I wanted them to. The mask I had on my face was slowly slipping, but I tightened it up, forcing myself to hide how much I wanted to get out of here. “But we both know you should let me go.”
“Really?” He smirked, dragging his finger over my thigh. “And why would I do that?”
“Because the only reason I’m here is so that you could hurt your brother. A brother that still wants to help you, to save you, but you’re making it impossible for him.”
“To save me?” He scoffed, suddenly getting up. “Cillian can’t even save himself, not to mention me. He never could. He didn’t deserve to get this empire. He doesn’t deserve to live after he allowed her to die.”
Tristan started walking away from me, toward the table where four glasses and a large bottle of water stood. “He doesn’t deserve to live after taking everything away from me,” he kept on talking, pouring a hefty amount of water into the glass.
“Your brother loves you,” I said, licking my dry lips. “You don’t have to fight him.”
Tristan turned around and looked at me as if he was truly hearing what I said. There was a war inside his head, a war he'd created but didn’t know how to get out of. He didn’t know how to cease the fire, how to stop the momentum he was pushing through. But as soon as the confusion arose on his face, it also went away, and that blank expression on his pretty face was back in full force.
He walked toward me, holding the glass with clear liquid inside.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, standing right next to Eddie, whose entire body hummed from pent-up anger. Anger directed at me. Tristan tilted his head to the side before drinking the water, licking his lips as that wicked smile filled with filthy promises spread over his face.
I kept myself still, because asking him why would only feed that monster inside him, showing him I truly wanted to know. And while I did want to know why he'd kidnapped me, it wasn’t something I wanted to share with him.
Showing him even the smallest weakness would only end up in my demise, and I had to hold on until Cillian and Chris came for me. Because they would come for me. I knew deep down that there was nothing they wouldn’t do for me.
“You’re here,” he chuckled, giving the glass to Eddie, and slowly walking toward me, “so that I could show my brother he would never be happy, as long as I live. He will never have love and happiness, because he took it all away from me.”
“Your brother wasn’t the one that killed your sister,” I blurted out, knowing I should have kept my mouth shut. I'd overheard Cillian and Christian talking about Ava the other day, and I couldn’t help myself but hate her for what she put them through.
It was obvious she was deeply disturbed, but she'd played them all, using their weaknesses against them, and most of all—she'd played Tristan. She'd used the love he had for her to brainwash him, to destroy his relationship with Cillian and Kieran.
And I couldn’t sit here, listening to him blame Cillian for something that was his sister’s fault.
“No,” Tristan snarled, wrapping his hand around my neck. “He didn’t kill her. Didn’t hold the trigger, but he helped them. He helped the enemy, when he should’ve been helping Ava. She loved him, she loved all of us, and he betrayed her.”
“She betrayed you all.” I coughed as his hand kept on tightening. “You can kill me. You can destroy my body, but you know, as well as I do that she was disturbed. You know that what she did was fucking insane.”
“No!” he bellowed, breathing heavily. “She was perfect, our little sister. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
