Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Killian
4 years ago
“ R ough night?” I ask, teasing slightly.
Maeve looks up at me, bored.
There are dark circles under her eyes and her dark dripping strands fall across her oversized band tee. I don’t have the heart to tell her that it’s mine. Probably a mix-up from the housekeeper.
I came into the O’Brien clan at fourteen years old. At the time, Maeve was barely thirteen and yet, she was a legend on the streets. Cold, ruthless, she ran the boys better than men four times her age.
Her father took me in, gave me a bed and hot food. More than I had on the streets, where he found me, covered in some guy’s blood. It was a justified kill; the man had tried to take from another girl and as much as I didn’t care, I did.
Ferguson began to train me from that night on. I could defend myself, but he taught me what it took to live in this life, to be as cruel as those who would take from you. I became a protégé of sorts to the Captain. I gladly lapped up the attention and the status in his ranks.
Maeve and I got on as well as fire and gasoline.
Now, at sixteen, she was a powerhouse in her own right. The heir to a lucrative business, Maeve was poised to take over for her father. She ran the books, knew of all the shipments and could control all the main players without breaking a sweat. She was good with a gun but better with a knife.
I would never tell her this, but she scared me a little.
Maeve didn’t like me and I didn’t really care. She was a rival, one who I knew intimately well. I knew how she took her coffee. I knew her favorite poet. I knew her favorite bug. I made it my life’s work to know Maeve O’Brien.
“Something like that,” she deadpans, flipping a page in her book. A steaming mug of coffee sits at her elbow and the early morning light filters into the kitchen, highlighting her big green eyes. They look like twin emeralds, sitting in a pale, elfish face.
I see the slice in her cheek as she moves, the purple imprints along her long neck.
Fingerprints.
Someone grabbed her neck—a neck no one should have been touching.
Going to the fridge, I wrap a towel around some ice and hold it to her neck. She winces and I can’t tell if it’s from pain or fear.
Maeve doesn't fear anything. She never has; she certainly never fears me like she should. Whatever she experienced has left a lasting impression.
I shouldn’t care. She’s my childhood rival, someone I work to unnerve. Do you know how hard it is to work at every single skill because a girl younger than you is just better, naturally?
A better shot. A better leader. Better at everything.
But I do. We have an uneasy competitive relationship. And she hates me for usurping her place.
At least, I think she does. She did threaten me the first night I showed up. But that’s just Maeve.
This is new for me, offering to help.
She takes the towel, pulling away from me. My hand hovers, not sure I should move away just yet.
Maeve has been nothing but a hindrance since I got here and yet…
I hate seeing the haunted look in her eyes. It’s far from the calculating heir I’ve watched grow over the years.
“Anything you want to tell me, Princess?”
She glares, but it’s lacking its fire. Maeve hates the nickname, and I learned early on that the best way to unnerve her is to piss her off.
After all, she’s the heir to a king in this world. Princess seems fitting.
“No.”
I tsk, rocking back on my heels. I run a hand through my dark locks, smirking as her eyes narrow.
“That’s not very nice.” I gesture to the towel. “And even after I tried to help.”
“I never asked for your help, Killian.” She stands, throwing the towel back at me. Ice scatters all over the white tiled floor. “Stay out of it.”
My smirk just grows at her irritation. Pissing Maeve off is an art form that I enjoy too much to be healthy.
Instead, I wink. “As you wish. But…” I lick my lips, watching as her eyes linger on my tongue. “You might want to ice that down. Only one person is allowed to wring that pretty little neck, and it’s not some guy you met on the street.”
She knows I’m teasing, but her cheeks flush. “Fuck off.”
Maeve shoves past me and I inhale her violet and juniper scent like it’ll give me strength. Years ago, Maeve was my rival in so many ways.
Now I can’t stop the rage from filling my chest at someone hurting her.