Chapter Twenty-Three
Killian
One of the perks of being hurt is that I get to see a new side of Lyra. I always pegged her as a natural caretaker, but I haven’t yet had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of her care.
If she weren’t here, I’d be out of bed and working in my office—fuck the doctor’s orders. I might’ve lost some blood, but the wound is ultimately just an unpleasant scratch; it shouldn’t stop me from moving around.
When I wake up to Lyra bringing me a breakfast tray in bed, however, I quickly change my mind and decide I can work from here.
“Did you put this together?” I ask.
“God, no.” she shakes her head. “I don’t even know how to work half the appliances in your kitchen. No, the chef put it together. I just brought it up.”
She also brings me my laptop when I ask her to, fusses over the arrangement of my pillows, and that evening, changes my bandages. All tasks that I’m perfectly capable of my own—perhaps with some extra effort—but I’m enjoying her softness. Maybe I should get injured more often.
On the second day, I’m unable to stay in bed, so much to Lyra’s adorable consternation, I move to the office. Besides, I have meetings to take. The first point of contact is a man I have little desire to deal with, because he’s fully capable of betraying me… but he also has the services I need.
“Mr. King,” Cain greets, picking up the call. “It’s a pleasant surprise to hear from you.”
“Is it?”
“Sure. If you’re about to cut me a nice check. Who do you need dead?”
“Actually, I’m calling to inquire about other services you might offer. A friend of mine recently suggested that you have a man with great talent in the digital realm. I need to find evidence of something.”
Cain pauses for several long beats. Finally, he says, “Who told you this?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose.”
“Then I’m not at liberty to do shit for you. My organization currently offers one service.”
“Ah, but you’re expanding, aren’t you? Guns? Drugs? Smuggling? I hear you’ve made moves to incorporate all of the above into your portfolio. Why not hacking?”
“News travels fast.” Cain sighs. “For certain services, we’d have to charge a retainer as well as per-hour costs of service. You understand, of course.”
“Naturally,” I drawl. Considering I’ve already paid the Nighthawks stunning sums for killing people in the past, I didn’t expect that asking them to find information for me would be cheap.
I probably should’ve asked for their help tracking down Lyra. Then again, it sounds like they only recently acquired their hacker.
“What do you need my man to find?” Cain asks.
“An assassin was sent after me last night,” I drawl. “His incompetence is the only reason I assume he wasn’t one of yours.”
“We wouldn’t kill one of our most valued clients.”
I credit that statement with a snort. “I’m quite certain he was hired by a rival of mine, but I need proof, and my tech team probably won’t be able to acquire it. He’ll have gone to great lengths to obfuscate his identity.”
“I see. Send all the information to my preferred email. We’ll be in touch.”
“This needs to be a rush job,” I emphasize. “I’m on a time crunch.”
“That’ll incur an additional fee.”
“Money isn’t an issue.”
“Very well. We’ll get to work immediately.”
Cain hangs up on me, just as a few knocks sound on the door. They’re quiet, so I assume it’s Lyra.
“Come in,” I call.
She slips inside. She’s dressed in a casual blouse and slacks, with flats on. Her ankle is still in a soft supportive wrap, but she’s assured me it doesn’t hurt any longer.
“I need to get a breath of fresh air or I’ll lose my mind,” she says. “Can I go down the street for a coffee? I’ll bring you back something.”
I clench my teeth around the instinct to say no. It really isn’t safe right now… but the assassin was only just sent for me. Silas will have to regroup and liquidate enough money to buy another. I don’t think I should worry that anyone will go after Lyra immediately.
“Take Locke and Mateo,” I say. “I want you within arms length of them at all times. If I hear you’ve decided to wander, you will spend the rest of the week tied to our bed. Understand?”
“Perfectly.” She sounds blasé about it. “What do you want?”
“Dealer’s choice,” I say. “Just don’t get me anything frilly.”
“Can I…” she bites her lip. “Work there for a little while? Bring my laptop?”
I exhale a long breath, considering. “You have two hours. Locke and Mateo sit at your table with you. If you need to go to the bathroom, one of them checks it and stands guard right outside.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Deal.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Do I get a goodbye kiss?”
“No.” she turns and leaves. I grin. Life will never be boring with her around.
To my pleasant surprise, Lyra returns exactly two hours later. I’m less amused at the drink she brings me; a fucking vanilla latte that’s half-filled with whipped cream. I’ll get her back for it as soon as I can.
In the interim… I reach out to Spencer to set up a meeting. He’s open to speaking, though he tells me outright that he’s already met with Silas and Vladimir. Looks like they’re no longer trying to hide their alliance.
I could ask Griffin to join the meeting—I’m sure he’d agree—but I don’t think a show of force is what would earn Spencer’s respect. I think I might have a better chance of earning his favor if I’m man enough to show up on my own instead of hiding behind someone else.
The meeting is set a week from today. According to the doctor, I shouldn’t be doing anything high-stress for a while… but considering the tribunal’s only a few weeks out, that’s impossible.
If I get Spencer on my side, he might be able to get me Ryan. And if that’s the case, I win.
Those are a lot of if’s. If I fuck up the meeting, or get Spencer but not Ryan, then I have to find a way to bribe Raegan. And that woman isn’t bribable.
I shut down my computer and head out of the office, needing some fresh air to help me think.
I find Lyra sitting on the patio already, which raises my eyebrows. I keep it locked for a reason; she must’ve convinced Locke to open it for her.
“It’s chilly,” I chide, grabbing a throw blanket from the outdoor sofa and draping it over her shoulders. “How did you get out here?”
“Told Locke that you gave me permission,” she says absently, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. “You still shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“I have an empire to run.” I shrug. “I can’t afford to take a break. Especially not now.”
She turns to look at me. “Now that there’s conflict… within The Eyes?”
“A little more than conflict.” I help myself to a seat beside her, briefly scanning the text on her laptop. It’s the marked-up manuscript she’s working on with her agent. She’s on page 250—almost done.
“Oh?” she twists to face me, but doesn’t put distance between us. I see that as a win.
I nod. “I told you the tribunal’s coming up. Silas will want to make his case against me, calling for my head because of what I did to him.” I smirk at the memory. “And I’ll make my case on why he should die—because he violated the rule of coming after family members.”
“But we weren’t family,” Lyra points out quietly.
“We were about to be,” I reply. “You were pregnant with my child. I’d made my intentions clear. That should be enough for the judges to excuse my actions and kill Silas.”
“Should?” Lyra repeats.
“Should. I was functioning within a grey area. While it should technically be allowed, arguments can be made against it.”
“And if you lose… it’ll be your head?” Lyra whispers.
I meet her eyes. “Are you worried about me, little bird?”
She swallows. “Worried about me, more like. I understand I’m right next to you on the chopping block.
” But her eyes tell a different story. They’re filled with an intriguing mixture of anger, fear, and concern.
She is worried about me, but she’s still at war with herself.
My little bird doesn’t know what to think.
“I’ll be alright,” I assure her. I hope I’ll be all right.
“And whatever happens during the tribunal, your safety is assured.” That much is beyond doubt, and I can live with that.
Or die with the knowledge, as it were. Despite recent mishaps, I have an extremely competent security team and a lot of money. She’ll be safe and set for life.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “When is the tribunal?”
“Three weeks.”
She inhales sharply. “That’s not very much time.”
“It isn’t,” I agree. “But it’s enough for me to set my affairs in order and implement a winning strategy.” My lips curve. “You are worried for me, Lyra. It’s okay to admit it.”
She averts her eyes.
“Look at me,” I prompt. When she doesn’t, I shut her laptop, set it aside, and put a palm on her thigh. “Look at me.”
She meets my gaze.
“We don’t have to be at war.” I’ve already made my sentiments on this clear, but they never quite land. “Stop putting us on opposite sides.”
Every time I think there’s progress between us, it’s two steps forward, four steps back. I despise it, but not quite as much as I hate the turmoil in her eyes. This fight she’s fighting is making her miserable.
Nobody gets to make her feel that way; not even her. I want to protect her from every bad thing there is in this world, including herself.
“Is it the tape leaking?” I ask. “Is that what’s causing this barrier?”
She doesn’t respond for a long time, but everything in her expression and body language tells me that is the primary issue. I can see why; it’s a massive betrayal. Something I held over her head mercilessly, used to gain her compliance. Something that got out into the world and hurt her deeply.
“It’s a lot of things, Killian,” she admits quietly. “But it comes down to control. You want to control every morsel of who I am. It’s limiting. It’s…” she grimaces. “Dehumanizing.”
I mull that over for a few beats. “I can ease up on the control.” If we only have a few weeks together left, if I die after that tribunal, I don’t want to spend it fighting. I can’t change what happened with the tape, but maybe I can make Lyra feel better about it. There has to be some way.