Chapter Twenty
Kieran
He ran from me. The shock of it had me immovable for a second before I sped after him. He was at the door and managed to pull it open when I reached him and slammed it closed with his head.
Rage was a potent thing. I’d never felt such rage before. Killing was never about anger or rage. It was about the mission. The target. This emotion bursting through me was unfiltered, raw, rage.
I gripped the back of his hoodie and yanked him away from the door, tossing him into the living room where the others were parrying. He fell on all fours, sliding deeper in the room. Everyone, even Tor, pulled back, giving me space.
“You fucking crazy fucker!” Tomás yelled, trying to crawl away.
I pushed him flat against the floor with my knee against his back and pulled his hands behind him. Someone handed me a zip tie. Not sure who. I used it to secure his hands behind his back, then I lifted him up.
“You can’t do this.”
I ignored him.
“Here we go again,” Wren commented.
I ignored that too.
“Walk up, or for the fucking love of the gods, I will carry you.”
He squared his shoulders. I slammed my shoulder into his stomach, and he bent over, as I lifted him off his feet.
“Are you fucking crazy! Put me down!”
I didn’t. I climbed the stairs, walked the few paces to my room, and dropped him onto my bed. Tomás watched me from the bed as I dragged my chair across the room to the foot of the bed and sat down. “Now,” I said as calmly as fuck. “Why the fuck do you have Luca’s collar?”
“Why do you care? You’re leaving! When were you planning on telling me that truth?”
I inhaled deeply but couldn’t answer that question because I had no response that would satisfy him.
He snorted, dropping his head on the bed. “Doesn’t matter, does it,” he said. “You never intended on trying. Telling me to wait was all bullshit.”
“I came out for you.”
He gave a nasty chuckle. “Bullshit. You came out because your lies were showing. You came out for you. Don’t fucking use me as your scapegoat.”
“Why not? You like being the scapegoat. The martyr.”
“At least that’s my choice. Did it ever occur to you that I’m trying to protect you.”
“I told you. I don’t need your protection.”
“What I do or don’t do is not for you to decide.”
“We’re always going around in circles, you and I.”
On his side, hands tied behind him, he lowered his head against the bed and closed his eyes.
“Pieces of a puzzle that will never fit. Is that what we are?”
“I don’t know anymore.” He sounded defeated.
I got to my feet, dug through my drawer for my blade, and cut him loose. He sat up, rubbing his wrists while I sat back down on the chair. “You want the truth?” I asked, though didn’t anticipate him to deny it and rolled on. “I didn’t tell you about the legit restriction of the school because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay in New York. The Brennans want to make changes to the school. And I think Dr. Casera too. They may be able to make it so that heirs can also be students at the school under a sanctuary. But I had a diabetic episode that almost cost Tristan—and by extension the rest of my family—their lives and after being here, I think I have to go back. I want to merge Brennan Holdings with Arcas International. Tristan wanted to go legit before I took the legal business from Cillian. The war on the streets will spill over everything I care about. And I can’t let that happen. Not for some stupid vendetta that no longer makes sense. Cillian is dead. I got vengeance. Doing business with Tristan won’t be like doing business with Grandfather. I think it could work and I think the guys are going to hate me for it. But I trust Tristan. And I still believe we can avenge our families starting with finding peace for Wren. He believes Alessandro Mancini killed his mother while he was in her womb. And after Luca and the pictures, something is up.”
“Alessandro is Wren’s father? And he thinks he killed his mother?”
I forgot how little Tomás knew about us, about me. We had bypassed the get to know you phase of whatever we were.
“Yes. On both.”
“You think Alessandro knows about us?” Tomás looked wild, afraid.
“I think he knows about Cillian. Maybe what I did. Why he’s keeping that information under wraps, I don’t know. And I don’t like loose ends.”
“And I’m a loose end.” His voice sounded so small, so painful. “This, us, waiting for you doesn’t even matter anymore.”
The burning pain in my chest spread everywhere. “It was unfair of me to ask that from you. You deserve better. Someone who loves you the way you need to be loved. I don’t think that could be me.”
For a long stretch of time, the air between us felt thick. The silence impenetrable as he considered my words. His eyes never left mine.
“God, you are so full of shit,” he said and got to his feet. I got to mine. “Bring out the fucking violin. Play some fucking sad song to the tune of your own bullshit.”
I flinched, unsure what the fuck. He shoved me against the door. I was too stunned to resist. “What the hell do you know about what I need. You’ve been ignoring what I need since I met you. Except this.” He slammed his mouth against mine. I couldn’t even kiss him back, but he didn’t care. He sucked my bottom lip, bit me, licked me while his hands lowered to my crotch. “This is the only time you know what you want. When we’re here. Fucking,” he grazed my jaw, suckled my earlobe. “Well, fuck you, asshole,” he whispered. His hand working my dick. “You don’t get to decide what type of love I need.” He sucked my neck hard. I hissed, thrusting my hips against his hand. Seeking more. “Tell me you love me.”
I shook my head. “No.” He cupped me harder. Pain zipped up my spine. My balls heavy.
“Tell me you fucking love me.”
“Love is not enough, Tomás,” I said, tears made my vision blurry. “The word is not enough.”
“Then show me.”
I wanted to show him everything because I needed him more than I needed to breathe in oxygen. I ravaged his lips, showing no mercy. I slipped my hands under his hoodie and his tee to feel naked skin, burning with a desire only he could tame.
And then I felt it.
The collar. And my world narrowed to one solid truth.
His lies.
I’d spent my whole life wrapped in lies. My mother had lied to me when she told me my father would come for me. She failed to mention who he was. Cillian had taught me to lie to survive. My aliases, covers, I sometimes had no clue who I really was underneath all the lies. Then puberty happened. I didn’t fit the norm in Cillian’s eyes. I got sick and hid that too. My world built on lies.
Until Tomás entered my life, forced me to want things I shouldn’t. Want things I didn’t deserve. He had revealed what lay at my core and I saw something that could be beautiful. Something that could be pure. But not if it were tainted by lies.
I pushed him gently away from me. Our breaths intermingled between us. “I can’t,” I croaked out. I stared at his warm brown eyes. This beautiful man who wrecked everything about me, pulled me apart so I could see the best parts of myself. Cillian hadn’t completely broken me.
Tomás made me realize that I deserved more than the lies he threw my way. I wanted someone who needed what I had to offer, not someone I couldn’t trust.
“Tell me your truth, Tomás,” I said, and shoved the collar into his hands.
He lowered his head to look between us at the collar in my hand, then lifted his eyes to mine. “I … Kieran.” He took a monumental step away from me. The rift between us too wide to reach. He raked a trembling hand down his face.
I started to move but he jolted and cupped my face. Desperation in his eyes. “Please. Please. Just...”
“Just what? Just trust you? Just let you keep your lies while you yanked me of mine?”
He kissed me and for a fleeting second I wanted to submit. Me. Submission meant getting stabbed in the back. Literally. I shoved him away. He released me, tears brimming in his eyes. “After the games. I promise,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything after we get back.”
I didn’t see the lie in his eyes. But neither did I sense the complete truth. “Nothing after the games will matter, will it?”
His chest rose and fell as he tried to control his breathing. He cupped his mouth, lowered his hands, ran them across his thighs. “No. Maybe not.”
“So tell me now.”
I saw the war in his eyes. The indecision. The love, if I could call it that. But he took another step away from me and shook his head.
I turned my back on him and for a heartbeat, I thought he’d stop me. He didn’t. I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. The barrier between us too much and not enough. I heard him on the other side, sobbing.
Why? What was he hiding that he couldn’t tell me? I thought of all the fucked up truths I’d told him. The way I had meant to kill my own family before I realized the kind of people they were, what Cillian had done to me. Tomás knew everything about me, and he couldn’t trust me with his own shit.
I pounded a fist to the door. Then another. Then another. I heard an abrupt silence beyond then the door knocked against the frame as if he’d used it to slide to the floor. Another knock as if he tapped it with the back of his head.
“Kieran,” he said.
I placed my palm on the door as if I could feel him on the other side.
“I promise. If … after … I’ll tell you everything. Even if you don’t stay. Even if you don’t want me. Please. Just give me this.”
I couldn’t respond. I locked the door and turned on the shower.