Chapter Seven
T here is no air to breathe.
No light.
It’s so, so dark. Everything is dark and the walls are closing in. Beyond the door I can hear the screams, full of pain and nothing else. They’re torturing him. His cries are wet and bloody, and even as he begs, they continue.
This is my punishment.
They know they can’t hurt me anymore, not because I am untouchable but because I no longer scream. But he screams. And when he screams, it tears my soul apart.
There is no escape.
“Killian!” He cries out, pleading for me to stop this. To stop the pain. But I can’t, I can’t get to him. I’ve let him down. I always fucking let him down.
“Killian!” He screams again and the walls, they’re closing in further, pressing me into an abyss that’s cold and lonely. Icy claws scrape at my skin, at the organ beating inside my chest and with every scream, they dig in further. Eventually the door is yanked open when the screaming falls silent, but I can’t tell how much time has passed. Minutes? Hours?
How long can one last without air?
He’s lying there in the middle of the floor, a pool of blood around him, face a bloodied mask, eyes swollen shut, lip busted open and his arm… his arm is bent, snapped.
“You see what you did,” My father’s hand wraps around my throat, not to choke but to pull. He tugs me across the room, but I do not speak, not even when he throws me to the floor next to my brother. “You see what your defiance does, boy!?”
He is breathing, thank god but it sounds wet and labored and as I kneel there, his head turns in my direction. He isn’t unconscious and with what little strength he has left, he drags his only good arm to me, fingers crawling through his own blood to touch mine.
“It’s okay,” The words are barely coherent, but I hear them.
“Next time,” Our father shoves at the side of my head violently, “I’ll kill him, you hear me? Next time you choose to act out against me, I will run a blade through his chest, and I will make you watch.”
“It’s okay.” Dean whispers weakly.
I run my hand over my damp face, sweat rolling down my temples, my back and chest. The sheets are soaked through and tangled from the thrashing. Beyond the windows, the city still sleeps, the sky a blanket of stars.
The carpet is plush beneath my bare feet as I cross the room and enter the ensuite, flicking on the bright white lights that blind me for a moment before I catch my haunted reflection in the mirror.
My hair hangs limply around my face and dark shadows bruise the space beneath my eyes. There is no way to change the past, no way to stop the forward motion of things that have already happened and perhaps the memories are a form of penance. A punishment because I didn’t stop it.
It’s okay. But it never was okay and never has been.
My car idles at the side of the road, a fresh coffee in my hand and one waiting in the center console for Savannah. She’s been awake since around four a.m., moving around inside that house as she prepares for her day. At seven, she finally steps out and turns her face to the morning sun. She did that yesterday too.
She doesn’t stop or act shocked that I am here again, but her eyes drop from mine quickly, a little crease forming between her brows.
Opening my door, I step out with her coffee in hand and pass it to her where she meets me halfway down the drive.
“I’ll drive you today.”
“Why?” She accepts the coffee and brings it to her lips, her eyes flickering when she gets that first taste.
“Is there much point in taking two cars if we are going to the same place?” I challenge.
“Or,” She holds up her finger, a fire lighting in her eyes, the embers bright and tempting, “You can not come. That’s always an option.”
“Get in the car, Savannah.”
I’ve always liked the way her name sounds on my tongue; I can imagine whispering it into her ear as I have her long blonde hair around my fist and my cock buried between her legs.
“Let’s take mine.” She offers, heading toward her little cream Fiat 500 that’s smaller than my closet at home.
“Fuck no.”
I open the passenger door and wait for her .
“Why not!?” She purses her lips.
“Do I need to force you into this car, Savannah?” I warn her.
Her eyes narrow and then she licks her teeth before she shrugs and makes her way to me, “Fine. You win.”
Why did that feel like a loaded statement?
She folds herself gracefully into the car, sipping her coffee as I shut the door and round the hood, climbing inside but once the door is closed, I realize the error I have made.
Fuck.
I feel her.
There’s barely any space between us and her scent; sweet and fucking addictive has already saturated the air. She smells like damn sunshine and wildflowers.
My hand tightens on the wheel as I reach for the button to crack my window open but it’s damn useless. And she just fucking sits there, sipping her coffee, watching the city go by without a single clue.
I had her close once. I had my hands on her body once. I should have known this was a bad idea.
It feels as if it takes hours to get to her little townhouse, the builders already set up for the day and I’m out of the Audi before the engine has even fully shut off, rounding the car to open her door.
She doesn’t even look at me as she makes her way into the house, elegance and grace in every move. Eyes turn to watch her, necks twisting as she passes by but it’s like she doesn’t see them.
I fucking do though. And it makes me want to rip out their fucking eyeballs and shove them down their throat. As I step onto the path, I reach for my switch blade, flipping the knife out and then back in, over and over again as my lips sound a whistle, drawing their attention away from her.
They all soon find their work incredibly intriguing when they see the knife. I’ve no problem using it, have used it many, many times and will use it if these fucks think they can get a free show from the woman that employs them.
Savannah is with Luke, her hands moving and waving around as she speaks. The house itself looks much better already and there’s that fresh coat of paint smell filling the air. Dust and off cuts of timber litter the floor but it actually looks like it could be lived in now. I will have someone I trust check it before Savannah moves in officially.
“The specialist should be in this afternoon,” Luke tells Savannah, “To get your dance room completed.”
Her whole face brightens with her beaming smile, “You’re doing such a great job!”
Luke nods his head to me as I come to a stop at her side, but she just keeps smiling, even when he goes off to work, she turns that grin in my direction.
“Can you believe how quickly they’re getting it done!?” Her joy is so palpable and pure, something inside my chest thumps in response, “I could be moving in by next week! ”
I remain silent while I take in the grin on her face, her eyes bright with so much excitement. When she starts making it for the door, I trail behind her, glaring at anyone who stares at her too long while she continues to ramble.
“The specialist is someone Luke found; they’re coming in to fit the dance studio. The mirrors alone are huge! I picked out all these paint colors last week, so I need to decide how I’m going to decorate." Her words tumble from her lips, “I wonder if Olivia and Willow will want to come over and help, we could totally make it a girl’s night, with wine and music!”
I reach for the door and open it for her, that smile still on her face, “What do you think?” She asks, “Do you think they’d want to?”
“Ask them,” I reply. “If you need help though, I can help.”
“Decorating doesn’t seem like your thing,” She shrugs and pats my chest a little condescendingly, “Thanks for the offer though.”
I don’t correct her. I’ve been painting my whole life. I have hundreds of finished canvases in the spare room at my condo, not that I would show anyone. Especially not the recent ones I have done.
It’ll be hard to hide my obsession when the strokes of paint so clearly give it life.
I start the engine and pull into the street while Savannah continues to talk at me, explaining her plans for the living room and the studio, our bickering from an hour ago seemingly forgotten. She talks the whole way to the studio, but I don’t mind, even if I am suffocating with her so close, I could listen to her talk all day. Her voice has a soothing quality, even when it’s biting.
At the gates, Savannah leans across me as I roll down the window, stray tendrils of her hair tickling my lips as she gives her details to the guard. My hands curl tighter on the wheel, the skin across my knuckles whitening with the grip. She falls back into the seat as he lets us through, noticing my hands.
“Are you trying to strangle it?” She asks with a slight, amused lilt to her tone.
Blood rushes back as I release.
“You need to relax, Killian,” She tells me, matter of fact, “Stress isn’t good for the heart.”
No, what’s not good for the heart is being in close proximity with my best friend’s little sister when all I want to do is pull her into the backseat.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” I snap as I shove the door open and open hers, her frown pulling down her brows.
“Fine.” Savannah crosses her arms over her chest, “Where to, boss?”
“Excuse me? ”
“Since you’re forcing yourself to be my bodyguard, I guess that means you call the shots, right? Or is that not how this works?”
“I’m not your bodyguard.”
“Then why are you following me around like a little lost puppy?” Some of that fire from before is back, “You all need to stop treating me like a child.”
I have no words to give her. No excuses. Sebastian didn’t ask me to do this, he doesn’t even know I am here. We are all very well aware that she’s a damn woman with her own life now, but I’d stayed away so long that I needed to be near her. This was the only way I could excuse that behavior. It’s all a damn lie and I am no better than an addict chasing their next fix.