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“Are you saying to me that what we have is a fucking lie?” I ask, his comment angering me as much as it does because I’ve asked myself that question over and over again these past few weeks. We'd told Cyn the truth that night when she finally revealed her voice to us, but had she done the same in return? My heart, my fucking soul, tells me she was being truthful, but my head isn’t so sure.
“If the shoe fits,” Connall throws back.
“You know shit about how we feel for each other,” I argue, my blood boiling with frustration, with guilt, with anger. All I want is Cyn home with us, so we have the opportunity to make this right.
Lorcan steps forward, gripping my shoulder. "Easy, brother," he says, stepping around me and placing himself between us. He’s as riled up as I am, yet he’s able to hide it a lot better than me.
“When we say that Cyn is ours it’s because she always was. You of all people know how that feels,” he says looking between Grim and Beast.
“He’s got a point,” Beast adds with a shrug, winking at Grim. "Youaremine."
Grim cuts him a look that would shrivel the balls of even the hardest of men. “And you’re lucky I love you enough to let that caveman statement go. I’m only yours because I want to be.”
Beast smirks. “Exactly my point, babe.”
“From the very first moment we met Cyn, she belonged to us,” Lorcan continues, ignoring their flirty-banter. “Back when we were kids we didn’t fully understand that what we felt for her was love. It was twisted up into something ugly because of our history with the Brovs, with the O’Farrell’s. We fucked up. We want to make it right. That was beginning to happen before the Skulls took her. We need the opportunity to fix things, but we’re not asking for permission. This will happen regardless.”
Connall scowls. “How can I trust that you won’t fuck this up again?”
“Have we not proven that we love Cyn?” Carrick asks, locking eyes with Connall. “Have we not shown you that we will move heaven and earth to protect her? You know us. You know the Deana-dhe, and you know that we don’t care for many people, but we care for her. Wewilllove her.”
Connall shakes his head, swiping a hand over his face. “I’m not sure your definition of love is the same as mine.”
“You’re right, it’s deeper. It’smore,” I add fiercely, feeling that love for Cyn inside of me like a living, breathing entity. It’s the truest thing I’ve felt in a very, very long time.
The atmosphere is heavy with unease, neither side willing to back down. I don’t want to hurt Connall, or Beast if he chooses to take his side, but I will if I have to.
“Maybe you can’t trust them, but perhaps you can trust me?” Christy says, the soothing calm of her voice a balm that seems to dissolve the tension enough for us not to start a fucking fight to the death. She looks between us knowingly, and something lifts off my shoulders when she gives me a soft smile.
“Oh damn. If Christy knows shit, then you’d better listen,” Beast remarks, slapping Connall on the back like this isn’t the most tense fucking situation since stepping into the Skull Brotherhood's lair.
“I don’t believe in any of that shit,” Connall says, causing Leon and Konrad to scowl at him and Jakub to pin him with a dark stare.
“You’d be wise not to insult the woman we love, Connall O’Brien,” Jakub warns. “But we’ll allow that one slip-up out of respect for Grim and Beast, given you’re their friend.”
Beast looks wide-eyed between the two, but there’s a hint of a smile playing around his lips that tells us he’s less bothered by the threat, and more entertained.
“Seeing as you motherfuckers aren’t going to get in the ring anytime soon now that you’re besties,” Beast says looking between us and The Masks, “A three on one fight could be quite entertaining. What do you reckon, Connall?”
“Fuck off, Beast,” he replies.
“Seriously though, that’d bring in the punters. Don’t you think, love?” Beast says, turning his attention to Grim now.
She rolls her eyes. “What I think is that you should stop talking and start listening…Christy,” Grim urges.
“Whether you believe me or not, is irrelevant,” Christy begins in that quietly-calm, yet assertive way of hers. “Cyn and the Deana-dhe are meant to be together. It really is as simple as that.”
“So I’m supposed to just trust your word?” Connall asks.
“You don’t have to do anything. I’m simply stating a fact. She is theirs, as much as they are hers. Nothing can change that. Not you. Not your brother or the rest of your family. Not Niall. Not any of us.”
“And what about Cynthia? Doesn’t she have a say in this, doesn’t she get to choose?”
Christy meets Connall’s gaze with a steady one of her own. “She already made her choice. She did that the night of the Brònach Masquerade Ball.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, as we all turn to look at her. “Is this about the letter your mother wrote to her? You’ve seen something? When?”
Christy nods. “Last night after I left Cyn, I had a vision. It was of the past this time. Whatever my mother wrote in that letter, it made her choose you three that night. She did it to save your lives.”
