Chapter 56
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
THE HEATHEN
Isit with my hands covering my face as I peek through my fingers at the fight.
Killian makes me so mad, but I know deep down I don’t really hate him.
Right? Can you hate someone, and not want them to get hurt?
Probably not. Maybe it’s the small glimpses of, not kindness, but normalcy, that have me not wanting him to get his ass kicked.
Or maybe it’s his sudden protective mode.
I didn’t expect him to declare I was not allowed to go after my family alone.
Is his concern for me, though, or his brothers?
It’s probably just about protecting Carter.
My mind is a total mess over Killian, and I cannot figure it all out.
If I don’t like him, and I shouldn’t, why does my body ignite when he looks at me?
Just the sound of his voice gets me hot, but when he touches me, it’s like an out-of-body experience.
More than that, I can’t understand why the thought of him getting hurt is terrifying to me. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do.
Knox pulls my hand from my face and kisses my knuckles softly.
“You don’t want to miss this.”
Killian stands over the man Knox called ‘Victor’ with sweat dripping down his bare chest, and kicks him in the side.
“Get up!” He yells, loud enough to be heard.
The crowd is silent with anticipation, waiting to find out what happens next.
Victor appears to have passed out, but Killian is not done.
He has a furious expression on his face, and I wonder if there’s a history there.
I’ve seen Killian pissed off, but this level of rage is new to me.
He kicks the unconscious man repeatedly, and Knox turns to Carter.
“Watch her.”
“Wha-” I start to ask, but Knox runs to the ring and pulls Killian away from Victor. Killian pulls his fist back, and I gasp. Knox puts his hand up, blocking the punch, and Killian blinks fast, like he didn’t even see his brother standing in front of him.
“Come on,” Carter says, and on instinct I put my hands in my jean pockets.
He gently grabs onto my shoulder as we walk back to the locker room.
Immediately upon entering I notice the tension in the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Killian sits on a bench with his head hanging down, while Knox paces back and forth.
I have never seen him stressed, so I know something is very wrong.
“What the fuck was that about?” Carter asks.
Killian pops his head up and glares at me.
“You,” he growls, as he jumps off the table and moves for me. Grabbing my throat, he pushes me against the wall.
“I knew you were fucking trouble.”
Knox grabs his shoulder.
“It’s not her fault and you know it.”
I glance at Carter for an explanation, but he just shakes his head, clearly not knowing the answer.
There have been moments where Killian has scared me a bit, but never like this. His eyes are wild with fury, his clenched jaw, normally sexy, is now frightening.
Knox growls behind him.
“Let her go, Killian. I won’t tell you again.”
He removes his hand from my throat and steps back. Carter moves forward, and inspects my skin for marks.
“He didn’t hurt me. He wasn’t squeezing. I’m fine.”
Killian grabs a black bag he didn’t come here with.
“Let’s go. We have shit to discuss, but not here.”
Carter and Killian walk out of the room first. Knox takes my hand, and we follow behind them. He doesn’t say a word to me, but squeezes my fingers, trying to reassure me that everything is okay, even though I really don’t think it is.
We make it out to the car, and Knox opens the door for me. I slide in the front seat, and he and Carter get in the back, while Killian drives.
Killian turns the radio off. I wait for someone to speak, but no one does.
The car ride is silent and filled with heated tension.
Whatever is going on, Killian blames me, and that has my anxiety climbing.
Every quiet mile causes more trepidation.
As if he can sense my every emotion, Knox reaches forward and squeezes my shoulder.
When we pull up to the house, Killian parks the car outside the garage and says, “The lounge.”
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Knox as we walk down the hallway, and he shakes his head. He wraps his arm around my waist and stops briefly, kissing me on the top of my head.
“You’ll find out soon, but everything will be fine.”
We walk into the lounge, and Knox motions for me to sit on the couch. After I take a seat, he sits beside me, while Carter lowers himself into the chair across from the sofa.
Killian opens the refrigerator and grabs four beers, passing one to everyone. I stare at the bottle in my hand.
“Too good for beer, Killer?”
I shake my head.
“It’s fine. I just have never had it.”
Knox reaches over and opens mine, before removing the cap from his own. Killian takes a long swig of his before speaking.
“The man I fought tonight is Victor Moreno, leader of Morte, a vicious gang.”
I nod and take a tentative sip of my drink. It has a crisp bold flavor, with a hint of bitterness. It’s okay, although I don’t know that it would be my choice if I had other options. I prefer wine.
“What did he say to you that pissed you off before the fight?” Knox asks, clearly for our benefit, since it seems that he already knows the answer to his question.
“He wanted me to throw the fight. If I refused, he said he was going to take Heather and rip her from limb to limb.”
My gasp is audible, as my fingers tremble around my beer bottle.
“So, because you didn’t throw the fight, he’s going to kill me?”
“No,” Carter growls, “I won’t let them fucking touch you.”
Killian holds his hand up, silencing the room.
“We are not going on the attack before they do. Nobody-” he glares at me, “That fucking includes you, Killer, is to leave this house alone.”
Knox leans forward with his beer hanging from his hand and shakes his head at Killian.
“They’re going to retaliate. Victor was unconscious, and you kept attacking him. That will have pissed them off.”
Killian shrugs his shoulders.
“You’re right, and when they make a move, we’ll handle it like we always do.”
Downing his beer he turns to me.
“Tomorrow, we’ll go find the Prophet. We all go, or no one goes. That’s the rule. Can you live with that?”
I nod in agreement, because I know there’s no choice. If I argue, I’m not sure what will happen, but I can’t risk being locked away. I have to stop my father.