Chapter Twenty-three
Brynn
“Thank you, Kylie. In other news, tragedy struck the campus of Calhoun University last night when a deadly fire tore through a fraternity house in the early morning hours, consuming the structure and claiming the lives of two students.”
Two pictures replace the still image of a house on fire, and my stomach sinks when I see Kyle’s face fill part of the television screen. The second boy pictured is the redhead from the basement who gave me the creeps. Apparently, his name was Arthur.
The news anchor gives a brief, polished blurb about each boy’s achievements, then goes on to solemnly conclude that the cause of the fire is still under investigation.
I jump when the TV turns off, filling up with dread as I look back at the man I can feel looming behind me.
I didn’t even hear him come in.
When I meet Killian’s gaze, I feel like I must have the power of Medusa because his eyes harden, and his jaw turns to granite. “Why are you watching that garbage?”
I swallow. “I was just… trying to find out what’s going on.”
“So you turned on the news,” he says wryly.
I can feel his guard is up. I can even feel him wanting to be mean to me, and I don’t know why, but I know I can’t handle it right now.
I don’t enjoy admitting it given the intimacies we’ve shared, but I’m feeling a bit afraid of him right now.
“What would you have me do instead?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level as I look up at him.
“You’ve got the primary source right here,” he states, his voice hard, not even bothering to feign innocence. “If you have questions, ask.”
I feel my eyes widening of their own volition. I try to stop it before he notices, but I’m sure I fail.
I don’t know what he expects from me anyway. I’ve never been in a position like this before. I don’t know what to make of it or how I’m supposed to react.
“So it was you,” I say softly, breaking his gaze and looking forward. Maybe it’s foolish to turn my back to him when I’m the sole witness to a couple of murders he committed with his friends last night, but it doesn’t feel dangerous. I don’t think he’ll hurt me.
“Of course it was me.”
I don’t know why I thought he wouldn’t own up to it.
I guess because it’s crazy. Doesn’t he know that?
“Did you… did you just start it from the outside and leave?”
“No. We went inside.”
We.
“Why?” I ask softly.
“Because we were about to set the house on fire, and there were a couple of guys we didn’t want to get out.”
My gut wrenches. I press a hand against my stomach, willing bile to stay down when it threatens to come up my throat.
“I get Kyle, but why the redhead? He feels like a random choice.”
“He was. We had two doses of the paralytic, and I recognized the redhead from the basement, so he had to suffice.” He grips the back of the couch, then leans down close enough that I can feel his breath on the shell of my ear. “As luck would have it, your buddy Aiden wasn’t home.”
A chill shoots down my spine.
Oh my god. He’s crazy.
“The paralytic?”
“I wanted them to be conscious of what was happening, but helpless to stop it. Just like you would have been that night if they’d had their way.”
My heart twists when he says it like that.
It’s immensely fucked up to imagine how horrifying their last moments must have been, trapped in a house on fire, betrayed by their bodies and unable to escape like everyone else.
But…
Maybe something is broken in my brain because while the gesture was horrifying, the way he frames it sounds almost… well-meaning. Protective.
He wanted to give them a taste of the medicine they tried to give me, and while that’s definitely not right morally speaking… there is some kind of poetic justice buried beneath the depravity.
It just also drives home the worst thought I had today.
That those guys are dead because of me.
Logically, I know it was their actions that started all of this, not mine, but it still feels… bad.
I swallow, trying to shrug off the guilt, but it keeps washing over me with the insistence of a waterfall.
“This is a lot, Killian.”
“I did it for you,” he states.
“But I didn’t ask you to,” I say, the passion breaking through. “I would never have asked you to do something like this.”
“I don’t need to be asked,” he states, staring down at me. “They fucked with you. They tried to fuck with us. They knew who they were messing with and the risk they were taking.”
My eyes bulge out and I rise up off the couch, turning to face him. “Maybe they did, but what about the other guys who lived in that house? Did you even think of them? You can’t control a fire, Killian. More people could have been killed—innocent people!”
His jaw ticks, but I don’t see the merest sliver of guilt in his eyes over the possibility that there could have been collateral damage. “I told you that I would take care of it, and I did. Were there risks involved? Of course. I was willing to live with them. If those other guys weren’t associating with scumbags, then they wouldn’t have been in my path. They were. Luckily for them, they all survived. It’s a happy ending, Brynn. End of fucking story.”
I shake my head, unable to believe his callousness. “Is this why you weren’t worried when Aiden said Kyle had a new plan to come after me? You knew he wouldn’t have a chance to enact it?”
He shrugs, and I take it as a yes.
He’s defensive. I think he hardly wants to talk to me right now, but in another sense, I think he does. I think he wants to talk to me more than anything.
“What if someone saw you?” I ask. “What if there’s evidence? You could get in trouble for this.”
“I’m not going to get in any trouble. It’s over. It’s done. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
A chill passes over me, and I think Toast is detecting a disturbance because she comes over to brush against my leg and look up at me as if to ask if everything is okay.
Yeah, everything’s great. Your new daddy is an unrepentant murderer, that’s all.
I bend down to scoop her up. I kiss her on the head and stroke her back, and as I do, I try to figure out where the hell to go from here.
I don’t think I can stay here tonight. I don’t know how I feel about Killian, but I know how I feel about what he did, and right now, being around him doesn’t make me feel safe.
The problem is, I don’t have anywhere to go.
But I suppose he doesn’t know that. At least not yet.
“The locks have been changed at my apartment,” I say, hating how thick with emotion my voice sounds. It’s hard to come off casual and nonconfrontational when I sound like this. “I can’t imagine Aiden fucking with me when he has to realize how narrowly he escaped death last night, so… I think I’ll stay there tonight.”
I can feel his gaze on me, but now that I’ve made up my mind, I don’t want to risk anything changing it. I kiss Toast on my way around the couch, and I head for the kitchen to grab a couple of tins of her food.
“I don’t want you to go.”
Killian’s voice behind me slows my steps, but doesn’t stop them.
I don’t answer him, and apparently, he doesn’t like that.
His voice harder but rawer at the same time, he says, “Don’t go, Brynn.”
My heart aches, but I have to. I need time to sort out my own thoughts, time away from him to process everything.
“It’s not goodbye,” I say softly. “I just… need some space right now.”
His voice is closer when he speaks, startling me. I didn’t hear him move, but he’s right behind me. “And what if I say no?”
My heart sinks, but my will is resolute. “Then maybe it is,” I state, hating the hint of fear in my voice when I say it.
But how can I not feel a little afraid?
Knowing what he’s capable of, how can I even be sure he would let me say goodbye?
Killian grabs my hips and turns me around to face him. I look up at him, trying my best to hide all my conflicted feelings, but I feel certain he can see right through me. I know he can see my fear no matter how hard I try to mask it, and I think if he truly cared about me, it should bother him.
But I don’t think it does.
If it does, maybe he is quickly accepting the reality over his preference. He wants me to want to stay, but… maybe that part is negotiable.
I swallow audibly, and the faintest glimmer of amusement returns to his moody blue eyes. “All right,” he says simply.
My heart rebounds quickly, soaring with surprise. “Really?”
He nods, bringing a hand up and caressing the curve of my jaw. “Of course. You’re not my prisoner. If you’d like to stay the night with Stacie, you’re free to go.”
It’s an absurd impulse to thank him, but it rises up anyway, and I can’t stop it from coming out. “Thank you, Killian.”
He smiles at my soft words, then he leans in and kisses me.
I hate that his kiss still makes me weak in the knees, but it does.
He breaks the kiss, and before I realize he’s taken advantage of my weakness, he takes Toast right out of my arms. “But I’ll be keeping the cat here. For when you return.”
I look up at him, wide-eyed and more horrified than when I found out about the fire. “I can’t… leave my cat.”
“Then you’re free to change your mind and stay. Either way, Toast is staying with me.”
I narrow my eyes at him, all the warmth I just felt melting away. “You’re really going to hold my cat hostage?”
“I really am,” he states, and again, I’m flabbergasted that he doesn’t even bother pretending that’s not his motivation.
What a fucking jerk.
“Don’t worry,” he says, amused by my struggle. “I can be a benevolent captor.”
I shake my head, doing my best to glare him to death. “You’re an asshole.”
I don’t say that lightly, and honestly, I wouldn’t have said it over him setting the Rho Kappa house on fire, but catnapping?
A bridge too fucking far.
I know he won’t hurt Toast, though, and I refuse to let him bully me into staying, so as mad as I am, I storm into his bedroom to get my pink overnight bag and fill it with the things I’ll need.
My mind races because this is not how I wanted this to go, but I suppose if I have to get all my stuff out of the apartment, I’ll need to pack anyway.
My face is hot with anger as I shove clothing into the open bag, but I tell myself to relax. Toast doesn’t like him, but she is used to him. He knows when to feed her, so she’ll be fine. I should think of it like he’s catsitting because that doesn’t induce panic.
And I need to pack anyway.
___
Killian called a car for me since we still don’t have mine back, but I’m convinced he did it just to make sure I was going where I said I was and not to be a nice guy.
I can’t afford to Uber, though, so I let him.
When he said he was having a car pick me up, I assumed he meant a towncar or something, so I’m mildly horrified when a massive limousine pulls up.
I ask the driver to stop at the shelter I usually volunteer at on Fridays before he takes me home so I can grab some boxes, but I feel like an asshole pulling up in front of a homeless shelter in a goddamn limousine.
Louise, the woman working a shift tonight, stares at me wide-eyed as I come in the front door.
“It’s not mine,” I say defensively. “I don’t want to explain. Can I just get the boxes, please?”
I can tell she wants to pry for details, but she nods and takes me back to the supply room.
The mustachioed driver stands at the curb waiting for me. He opens the door when he sees me, but since I’m carrying an armful of boxes, he abandons the open door.
“Allow me, miss,” he says, rushing forward to take the unsteady tower.
“Thank you,” I say. “Sorry, I think I was too busy sulking when you picked me up and I didn’t get your name.”
My mustache twitches with the effort to suppress a smile. “No worries, miss. My name is Hugh.”
“Right. Well, thank you, Hugh.”
“Of course, Miss Blakely. I’ll just put these in the trunk for you,” he says, wrestling the tower of awkwardly stacked boxes on his way to the rear of the limo.
“Will they all fit? We can break them down if we need to,” I offer, following him in case any of the boxes fall.
“No need,” he assures me. “This vehicle has abundant trunk space.” He gets the trunk open without my help, then lowers the tower into the cavernous space so he can disassemble the tower. “Is there anywhere else you need to stop on the way home?”
“Nope, just needed to get some boxes.”
“Very good,” he says, smiling politely. “Feel free to wait in the car. I’ll just be a moment.”
I eye the massive door as I climb inside. Then, since I’m not used to being waited on by servants and I don’t want to be a bother, I reach out to grab the door and pull it closed myself.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
The thing doesn’t even budge.
“Please allow me to do that,” Hugh calls, and a moment later, he closes the trunk and comes back to close the door for me.
“Sorry, I didn’t know how heavy it would be. I’ve never been in a limo before. Are the doors always this heavy? You must be buff as hell opening and closing this thing all the time.”
His mustache twitches again. “They’re not. This particular car was heavily reinforced many years ago to ensure the safety of those traveling in it. There are smaller and sleeker models that do the same job now, and I keep telling my employer we should upgrade, but, well… he likes what he likes, and he does what he wants.”
I press my lips into a grim little line. “Yep. I know the type.”
Hugh flashes me a mild smile, then, finally, he closes the heavy-ass door.