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Cause whatever you love could be taken away, so live like it’s your dying day
MACHINE GUN KELLY
Killian
Privacy was power. What people didn’t know they couldn’t ruin.Her words shackled me, heavy on my spine. She was always around. Talking to me. She sat on the bins in the alleyway, the same place as Brenyn did hours before her. I tried to shake her off. I tried to blur her out with a blue pill and a glass of whisky. Plus, she spoke louder to me when Brenyn was around.
Go to her, she taunts me. Let her in.. The dark isn’t made just for you to sit in.She was a beautiful ghost inside my mind. Creeping in and out like fog.
I paced the alleyway after Trevor came and got me from inside my office. I was watching the footage from my security cameras—one pointed right at the stage, the one where Brenyn danced her set tonight. No matter where she was, what position she was in, or the fucking insane set of chains she hung from tonight her eyes not once left mine. She watched me watching her. It had my cock throbbing for release.
She sees you, Killian. YOU. Not the killer they forced you to be.
I spoke to the ghost ever present since she showed up. I can’t be anything other than this. You know this because the moment that I am, that I let my guard down, something bad always happens and takes that small fleeting feeling of happy away.
She played a fucking good game and so does Brenyn Walsh. I was more than a little fucking shocked at the double life Miss Walsh was living.
Quite the dark horse.
Anger soon replaced euphoria when I pulled the footage from the alleyway. I saw his sleazy hands on her. The whisky that clung to my lips did nothing but feed the high to fucking kill him. Slamming my fist into the solid oak of my table, the laptop and whiskey glass jumped as I blew out the cheap cigarette smoke from my lungs. My eyes burned into Trevor’s. He answered the question inside my wild eyes.
“I roughed up his buddy for answers on who he was and what they wanted with her. He was too fucking wasted and had already pissed himself. I hadn’t even smacked him at that point. I’ve zip tied him to a chair in the chiller. Sober him up and start on him again,” he spoke around the toothpick in his lips.
“Fucking good. Keep the cunt there,” I barked, fisting my hand into the pocket of my slacks and pulling my phone out. Tonight, before I found her in the VIP room, I slipped into the dressing room and set up Apple tracking on her iPhone. I wanted to know where she went, and I wanted to watch her from afar. A monster like me couldn’t ever get too close to a masterpiece like her. My monster would fucking skin her alive and feast on her heart.
She could make that cold heart of yours beat again.Her voice was like a runaway train, so goddamn hard to stop once started.
The red icon flashed downtown, not far from my own apartment that I kept in town. My actual compound sat on the outskirts of town, high above the shit fest that was being a notorious mobster.
I could’ve had a different life. A better life. But they all, including him, deprived me of a life that wasn’t filled with the torment of death and violence.
Nana didn’t want this for me—for us. She didn’t want me thrown into the violence that was this life. She sheltered us both, until she was no longer able to do so and they took over. They placed hate inside my veins. I had to erect walls to keep her safe. They blew them apart and took all that was beautiful from me.
She’s desire inside a tornado of pain and can stop the spiraling.Again, she spoke. She didn’t stop. She just kept going, like fire and rain trying to fight each other for power.
Fuck, I miss you,I breathed out as I sat here and pondered over what it could have been like.
Liam, the long-lost uncle, had robbed me out of a future, my sister, and my unborn nephew. For that he paid. With his blood, his tears and with his goddamn miserable fucking life. And for her I would do the exact same thing to anyone who had the fucking balls to even breath on her and cause her pain.
I’d been Chicago's fixer my entire young adult life since my grandfather retired. My mother killed herself with a drug overdose, leaving us in the care of her parents. Her brother, my uncle, was in jail when Pops retired and left me the keys to this fucking violent kingdom. I craved a different kind of life. One where it wasn’t built on always watching over my shoulder and dissecting people before I allowed them too close. Trust was one of the hardest items inside a world like this—to gain and to keep. Love was non-existent because that was weakness and weakness brought with it death.
My grandfather called it The Kingdom of Fuckery and gave me a target on my back as a birthday gift. I had no choice. I took over the family business, tackling each problem the rich and influential people of Chicago came to me with, no matter how wildly unorthodox it was. By twenty, I’d broken a substantial amount of bones and crushed just as many skulls to be feared and respected everywhere I went, both by the criminals and the law. I was twenty three when my name hit the FBI’s most wanted list. The CIA even wanted a taste of Killian Kinahan. Twenty- five when my grandfather knew I was different, something he was proud of. I was twenty-eight when my uncle, my mother’s brother, and rightful heir to the Kinahan family name took it from me. He was a washed-up gangster with no spine and little stamina for the job. He held a grudge to a nephew who was far better at the job of boss than he would ever be. He’d much rather like to snort coke from the tits of whores and drink from the rival’s cups. It was only four months after he was released from jail that he and my grandfather realized that I was a few shades darker with an appetite for blood and the screams from men who I was tormenting.
I was now twenty-nine and I had lost both of my greatest loves.
Nan may not be in heaven with him, but she’s gone as she just stares blankly back at me.
My whole life I’d fixed things for other people. Was it time to allow myself the luxury of one, uncalculated destruction. Should I go to her, sit with her, touch her… not hide behind the fog and darkness of my club. Should I do what I normally never do? Kill without actual reason other than he came near her, touched her, breathed on her flesh. I thought so, yes. First, though, she screamed inside my ear to go see her—check on her. I knew she was right and that scared me. A ghost ruling my thoughts.
I didn’t care about any woman. My matte black Audi pulled up outside her penthouse apartment building. All the lights were out but the dull glow of blue coming from the top floor. I knew it was hers.
I counted the floors inside the elevator. The ride up felt like forever, and I had talked myself out and into this with each new floor. Twisting the rings on my fingers, I felt a weird sense of nervousness. What was happening to me?
The phobia of losing someone you love is called Thanatophobia. I have lost two beautiful ladies who I loved more than anything. I slipped into the penthouse suite on the thirteenth floor. Everything was white. The only color was a blue LED light that ran around the ceiling and floor base boards. I thought I could quite easily fall in love with her. She laid on a solid white outdoor bed. Her arm hung over the side. She had sunglasses on—it’s pitch fucking black out there—and the penthouse echoed with Miley Cyrus’s version of “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica. A cup balanced between her breasts as a cigarette sat between her lips. I had never seen her smoke. I had never seen her look so beautiful as she did now—broken and slightly messy. I crept toward her on balanced feet. So soft, so quiet you would never know I was there. I had the ability to slip in and out unseen, unheard and dangerously brutal.
I noticed that tears stained her cheeks as I leaned over her; she didn’t move and I thought she was either dead or sleeping. Unsure, I watched her for a few moments. I didn’t feel alone when I looked at her. When her lips moved around the cigarette I held my breath. How the hell did she know I was there?“I’m so fucking high I just high-fived his holiness.” I stifled a laugh because fuck, she didn’t need any encouragement.
“I feel the family law firm wouldn’t be happy with such a statement, little bird.” I took the smoke from her lips and the glass from her breasts, taking a sip of the straight tequila and a long drag of the smoke. I watched as she twisted on the bed, pulling her sunglasses slightly down her nose and moved to look at me. Her eyes moved over my body, causing goosebumps to ripple over my skin. I downed the rest of her drink, needing it to stay in control. All I wanted was to see if she was fucking ok. I can’t stay. I can’t get close. Touching her, tasting her—that needed to stay inside the club walls, away from angel’s eyes and open heavens. It was dangerous out here in this place we called home. A place I ran with an iron fist filled with angry men who wanted nothing but to take from me and cause me pain. I placed the now empty glass down on the glass topped table beside us.
