Chapter Twenty #2
“I know,” Killian says quietly, almost softly.
My head snaps up, surprise flashing through my features.
When he sees my expression, he releases a sardonic laugh.
“Do you think I’m blind, Lyra? Or stupid?
I know I’m difficult to deal with. I am not an easy man.
I’m complex, morally black, and callous.
But you, Little Bird…” he abandons the bathtub and walks up to me.
Gently spreads my legs, mindful not to jar my ankle, and braces his hands on either side of me.
“You own me. Not a piece of me, but all of me. And owning me comes with the consequence of me also owning you.”
“I don’t want to be owned,” I say softly. “I want to have a choice.” My eyes prickle, stinging with the threat of oncoming tears. “What do you think would’ve happened if we’d met at a coffee shop? Or a bar? If whatever this is between us didn’t start out with coercion or blackmail?”
“You’d have still turned me down on account of my arrogance and ego, and I would’ve still ended up…
persuading you to go out with me. I still would’ve told myself that you were a passing infatuation, until you weren’t.
” His lips twist into a dark smile. “Our story wasn’t meant to start out as a tale of love.
It was always going to be dark. But one thing you refuse to acknowledge is that you have the same darkness within you as the one I have inside of me. We’re both cut from the same cloth.”
I tense. “No, we’re—”
“Don’t disagree. It’s true. You enjoy the things I do to you, even if you think they’re wrong.
You weren’t built to be a colony ant, Lyra.
You were always destined to be a queen. If you’d stop fighting me and running from me for thirty seconds, you might recognize that.
” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.
“We’re so similar it still sometimes baffles me. ”
“Excuse me?” I snap. “I’m nothing like you—”
“Oh?” Killian arches an eyebrow. “You’re stubborn. You’re smart. You clawed your way out of a difficult youth and made something of yourself.” He pauses there, letting that statement land. “You’re ambitious. You’re vengeful.”
“I’m not vengeful!” I interrupt.
“Stop lying to yourself. If you weren’t vengeful, you wouldn’t have published the expose. If you weren’t vengeful, you wouldn’t have looked satisfied when I hinted to my plans with the man who hurt you.” He leans forward. “Would you like to know what I’m going to do to him?”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
He smiles. “I’m going to destroy him slowly.
I already looked into him—I have a report detailing his entire life sitting on my laptop.
Did you know that his wife has been to the ER 12 times in the last two years?
Each time, the cited reason was some version of falling down the stairs.
A month ago, her daughter was also brought in with a broken arm.
The reason there was she fell on the playground at school.
” His face hardens. “School was out for holiday that week.”
My stomach drops, and nausea tickles my esophagus.
“His wife filed for a divorce and moved out that day. She’s living in low-income housing with her daughter and baby boy.
They’re struggling to get by—she’s a nurse.
The first thing that’s going to happen with the cop is that all of the money will disappear from his bank account and miraculously get deposited into hers.
Same thing with the trust fund his parents left him.
She won’t be set for life, but certainly for a few years—enough time for her to get fully back on her feet.
” He trails his thumb across my jaw. “The cop’s already been fired.
Tomorrow, an investigation will be opened into him.
There have been a couple buried complaints against him for unnecessary aggression, wrongful arrest, misconduct.
Those complaints will all get brought into daylight.
He’ll never work anywhere again.” He presses his finger to my lips, watching me closely.
“Without income, he’ll lose his apartment and be left to the streets or one of the horrific homeless shelters in this city.
Now, I don’t trust someone with his kind of history to roam the streets. Do you?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Good.” He smiles. “So, after he’s had just enough time to despair, he’ll run into a little accident.
It’ll be staged as a fight between homeless men over food, or something of the sort.
His death will be slow and violent. His family will, eventually, forget about him.
His wife will have the resources to seek help for the trauma she and her daughter endured at his hands.
” His features harden. “I could’ve made it worse, believe me.
I could’ve strung him up, cut his fingers off, and skinned him alive. ”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
His smile returns. “Sweet Lyra. Whatever do you think happened to the mugger who hurt you?”
I never asked. I never wanted to know. Because what he’s describing is the unthinkable.
Has Killian already tortured a man to death for harming me?
And why in fuck’s name does that send a secret… thrill through me?
“Because we’re cut from the same cloth,” Killian says, reading my mind.
“Now.” He kisses my forehead. “We’re going to take a very careful bath, and set you up in bed.
You are not going to try to run away from me again—the next time, I’ll be the one ensuring you lack the ability to do so for the foreseeable future. ”
I shrink about. “Are you threatening to break my ankle?”
Killian actually looks offended. “No,” he says, with enough indignance that I’m inclined to believe him.
“What I’ll do is lock you in a cage. Or leave you tied to my bed whenever I’m not around.
Or, construct that home we discussed—the one I’ll put you in if your ever give me reason to believe you’ll harm our child.
” He squeezes my hip. “I think we’ve had quite a long day. Let’s wash up and get to bed.”