Chapter 22 Ronan #3
“Still,” Oliver said, lowering his voice a little, “don’t let him get in your head. You’re in control now. Whatever he’s done to you, give it to him worse. I’ll be up here in the living room if you maybe want to talk after?”
I nodded, holding his gaze for a beat longer than I meant to. “Thank you. And yeah, I think I’d like that.”
And then he was gone, footsteps fading up the hall as Hudson pushed open the door and gestured for us to follow down the steps.
The air changed instantly—cooler, heavier. The corridor was narrow, lined with concrete. The smell of metal and bleach clung to everything.
We reached another locked door. Hudson punched in a second code, then stepped aside for Wes to go first. I followed, pulse thrumming in my ears.
The sound of quiet conversation met us first.
A man who must have been Hayes, given his near identical appearance to Hudson, stood near a metal table, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his mouth.
There was a smaller, redheaded man in a miniskirt and a pink blouse, perched on the edge of the table, and an older man standing next to him, dressed sort of like a university professor.
And in the corner—
Elias.
He was inside a glass enclosure. There was a bucket and some dirty bandages in the corner of the cell, but not much else.
His hair was tangled, his face marked with bruises and the kind of exhaustion that came from too many sleepless nights. But when his eyes met mine, the corners of his mouth lifted into a slow, crooked smile.
“Ronan,” he drawled, voice hoarse. “I was so worried about you.”
My fingers twitched at my sides, but I didn’t answer.
Instead, I walked toward the small group of people at the other end of the room. The redhead perked up, smiling at me as I approached.
The feeling of a firm hand on the small of my back told me that Wes had followed me over.
“Some more introductions are needed, I think,” he announced. “This is Ro.” When I looked over at him, I met his eyes. My heart squeezed at the expression on his face.
It was one I hadn’t seen in a very long time.
Pride.
He was proud to introduce me to his family.
His arm circled my waist, tugging me closer to his side. “This is Hayes, Lane, and Greyson.”
Lane was the first to speak. “How do you know who I am?”
Wes chuckled. “I’m getting the vibe that I should come around more often. I’m sorry. Lane, I keep track of everyone in my nephews’ lives. Of course, I know who you are.”
Lane’s eyes narrowed as he pouted. “Then why didn’t you come to our wedding?”
“Princess…” Greyson warned, a brow raised.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve made time for it. I did get to see the pictures, though. It was a lovely ceremony.”
I’d have to ask him later why he hadn’t gone.
Lane sighed, his expression warming back up. “Thank you for sending a gift anyway.”
“It was my pleasure. The least I could do.”
I was starting to feel out of the loop.
Lane turned his attention to me. “He gave me some of the prettiest jewelry I own. The pieces are so amazing,” he gushed.
I smiled faintly, glad for the brief warmth before everything inevitably went cold.
Lane’s energy was almost infectious—a bright light in a dark room that reeked of death.
Hayes, on the other hand, leaned back against the table, arms crossed, watching me and Wes with a smirk that could cut glass. He looked like the kind of man who never turned down an opportunity to stir the pot.
“So,” Hayes drawled, eyes flicking between us, “this is the Ro, huh? Dorian described you perfectly.”
No clue who Dorian was, but alright.
Wes’s arm tightened around my waist in a subtle warning. “Enough, Hayes.”
“What?” Hayes tilted his head, grin widening. “I’m just saying, it’s cute. Kind of domestic, even. Brings a tear to my eye. You’ve never shown any interest in dating, and now this is what you go for.” He gave me an exaggerated once-over, then whistled.
I blinked, a startled laugh bubbling out of me before I could stop it. “Nice to meet you, too, dickhead.”
Hayes snorted. “Just calling it how I see it. You look like you’re barely out of college, and Uncle Wes here—” He gestured toward him with a lazy wave. “He’s got that silver-fox thing going on. You guys would make a fucking fortune on OnlyFans.”
“Hayes,” Wes growled, voice low.
But Hayes only grinned wider, clearly entertained by the vein that had started to twitch in Wes’s temple. “Relax. I’m just kidding around. None of us expected you to actually start dating, let alone someone who looks like they could be your—”
“Finish that sentence,” Wes warned, “and I’ll remind you exactly who taught you how to shoot.”
That shut him up—mostly. Hayes threw up his hands in surrender, though the smirk never faded. “Touchy.”
I had to bite back a grin. The tension in the room cracked a little, replaced by the faint hum of amusement.
“I’m twenty-nine, if that makes a difference.”
Wes huffed. “They know that. They’re just being assholes.”
A knock filled the air, drawing everyone’s attention to the other side of the room.
I followed their gazes to Elias’s glass cell. The bastard was lounging in the corner, head tipped, eyes gleaming with smug interest—like a wolf behind glass. Watching. Listening.
He’d heard every word.
And from the faint curl of his lips, he was enjoying it.
“Cute family reunion,” Elias rasped, voice muffled through the enclosure.
Wes’s hand left my waist. “I think it’s time to remind him why he’s here,” he said, his voice sharp again.
Whatever lightness Hayes had stirred with his joke evaporated, replaced by a cold, electric focus.
Elias sat forward, eyes locked on me. “Come on then, sweetheart. Let’s see what kind of man you’ve become.”