17. Killian #3
Ronan’s made his position clear. He’ll do whatever is necessary to win against the Bratva.
Jhene doesn’t matter to him… or really anybody else in the clan.
I’m the one who’s made her a nonnegotiable.
Something’s got to give; somebody’s going to end up on the wrong end of the stick. That somebody very well could be Jhene…
“Hey,” she whispers, squeezing my hand. “You okay?”
I can’t bring myself to answer, merely giving her hand a squeeze back. We’ve gotten in line to view the casket, but as everybody shuffles forward and we make it toward the front, I change my mind at the last moment.
“I’ve got to go,” I say. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”
But I should know better than to think Jhene would hang back without me. She simply clutches my hand tighter and falls into step beside me, keeping up with my brisk pace.
“I’m coming with you,” she murmurs.
I clench my jaw. “You don’t have to—”
“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I go where you go, Killer.”
We fall silent as we walk out the cathedral doors and enter the warm summer morning. I lead us to the Escalade we’ve driven over in, getting behind the wheel but refraining from sticking the key in the ignition.
Jhene slides into the passenger seat and folds her hands in her lap, patiently waiting out my bad mood. I’ve gotten her new glasses since the old pair was broken—frames that fit her face properly—and they sit perched on her nose as she stares out the windshield.
I breathe through the storm of rage bottled up inside me, then go to insert the key in the ignition. Instead I wind up releasing a frustrated howl and banging my fist on the steering wheel.
She jumps out of alarm and then reaches for me. I shrug off her touch before I realize how it comes across.
It doesn’t deter her.
She remains calm as she tries again, gently touching a hand to my arm. “Killian… it’s okay.”
“No… it’s not…” I snap my eyes shut and tip my head back against the headrest. “Seamus Callahan’s dead because we fell for the Raguzins’ games. Nothing about that is fucking okay.”
“I know,” she admits quietly. Then she lets out a slow breath. “I guess I more so meant… it’s okay to be angry. Take it from somebody who does it—bottling up emotions isn’t a good thing. Let it out.”
I cut her a sidelong glance, the same tense expression etched across my face. I’m aware I must look like a moody, sullen asshole. A large, intimidating, angry brute next to someone half my size, so gentle and calm.
You’d think Jhene would shirk away in fear. But she simply blinks at me from behind her glasses, her brows knitted in concern and her full flips arranged in a small frown.
I don’t give a fuck what Ronan or anybody else in the clan thinks—giving her up is not an option.
My heart pounds faster inside my chest, adrenaline building. The rush I get whenever I think of how I feel about her.
…how I’ve come to fall for her the way I have.
“It’s not your fault anyway,” she sighs suddenly. Her gaze drops to her lap. “It’s mine, Killian. If I hadn’t come into your life, none of this would’ve happened. Seamus would still be alive. The Banshee wouldn’t be burned down. Tom and Teagan never would’ve been hurt. The Bratva wouldn’t be—”
“Not another word.”
Her large coffee-brown eyes snap back up to meet mine. She’s startled by how firmly I’ve interrupted her. Basically a way of telling her to shut up.
I make it clear why only a second later.
“Listen to me,” I say, scooping her hand up in mine. The same one she’d used to touch my arm. “Under no circumstance do I blame you for this. You understand? None of this is your fault.”
“But if I hadn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt again, holding her gaze hostage. Willing her to believe me. “I’m grateful you came into my life, Jhene. I don’t want to know a life without you in it. You’ve become too much a part of it.”
She blinks a few times and almost bashfully looks away. I reach out and brush a curl from her face before she can, tucking it behind her ear.
“I mean it, stray. You got that? I want you by my side. Right where you belong.”
We come together for a kiss, her leaning into me and me pulling her the rest of the way toward me. Our lips brush and we linger a moment, savoring each other like lovers do.
Even when we break apart, I’m holding her face in my hands. We’re still looking each other in the eye.
“Whatever comes our way,” I tell her huskily. “We’ll deal with it together. Alright?”
The corner of her mouth quirks. “Okay.”
I press one more kiss to her lips, then settle back into the driver’s seat and start the engine.
The road ahead stretches out before us, both literally and figuratively. In the literal sense, I might know what’s ahead, but the figurative is another story.
I don’t know what’s coming next with our war against the Bratva. There’s no way of telling how it’ll play out.
But I know one thing for damn sure.
I’m going to find a way to win. I’m going to protect Jhene and avenge the clan and make the Bratva realize they’ve fucked with the wrong boneman.
I won’t rest ’til I do.