20. Kellan
KELLAN
“What are you doing with that?” Declan asks me, hunched over his plate like someone who has just escaped prison. Maybe, in a way, he has.
I glance over at him and ignore the anxiety rising in my chest. “I’m bringing Caroline something to eat.”
“She can go one meal without, after she tried to kill us,” Declan snaps, dropping his fork with a dramatic clang on the plate.
“She saved your life,” I point out, holding the plate uncomfortably, my eyes drifting down the hallway to her door.
He scoffs, and the scar on his jaw jumps. He’s tensing. “After she tried to take it.”
“She was afraid for hers,” I argue. It’s not an argument that would ever work for a prisoner that wasn’t as beautiful as Caroline or as fierce. She has a power in her that makes you want to humanize her.
“We can’t reward that type of behavior,” Declan says simply, taking a long and loud swallow of his water.
Rian chimes in, stabbing at a piece of roasted potato. “Declan, are you really so narcissistic that you think she should override her basic instincts just to avoid upsetting you?”
“If she knew what was good for her. Her basic instinct should be to avoid upsetting me,” Declan retorts, picking up a potato with his bare hands and stuffing it between his lips. He chews slowly, holding his ribs. It’s like he thinks eating is going to undo them.
“If we’re not killing her, then she’s our responsibility,” I say quietly, grabbing a napkin and folding it onto the tray.
Declan scowls. “I still think we should kill her.”
“Your stance is noted,” Rian replies sharply. “But maybe sit down and let your ribs finish healing before you go handing out executions.”
Declan mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t get up. He just tears into a slice of bread like it’s done him personal harm.
I carry the tray down the hall and unlock the guest room. I knock once, soft. “Caroline?”
No answer. My stomach twists. This would be a really bad time for her to try to escape again. And if the car wreck was just the intro, I don’t want to see her second attempt.
I push the door open, heart thumping, but find her lying in bed under the blanket, bathed in the blue light of the projector screen. Relief washes through me so fast I nearly drop the plate.
“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping in. “Why didn’t you answer?”
“Because I figured you didn’t really need my permission to enter,” she says flatly, not looking at me. “And I was right.”
“Caroline, I was trying to respect your privacy,” I say defensively, leaning against the doorframe. “I wasn’t asking permission. I was giving you a chance to cover up.”
“Right, like you haven’t seen it already,” she snorts, eyes still glued to the screen. I glance at it and realize she’s watching The Godfather . A smile curves her lips when she catches me noticing. “Figured I should educate myself on your culture.”
I chuckle despite myself and set the tray on the bed beside her. She sits up, propping herself against the headboard. Her hair’s pulled into a ponytail, a few stray pieces falling against her shoulder. The image hits me hard. Soft and intimate. Like something I shouldn’t be seeing.
For a flash of a second, all I can think about is her mouth on mine, her body warm beneath me. The taste of her skin. The way her moan sounded in my ear.
She clears her throat. “Thanks. I guess. I don’t know if thanks is the right word.” She bangs her head lightly against the headboard, closing her eyes. “Thanks for the meal and for not killing me. So stupid,” she whispers to herself.
I nod and move toward the door. “I’ll come back in an hour for the plate.”
“Kellan, wait.” Her voice is intense, in a higher octave, begging.
I pause and turn. She’s already holding the grilled chicken in her hand like she might hurl it at me if I say the wrong thing.
“Can I trust you?” she asks. Her voice is quieter now. Less sharp. It cuts me deeper than anything else she’s said.
I don’t answer right away. Because I don’t know. I want her to trust me. I want to deserve it. But I’ve spent my whole life putting my brothers first. My loyalty has never been a question until now.
“You can trust me to be honest with you,” I say finally. “And you can trust me when I say you need to be careful. Your life is still…in danger. The mafia doesn’t leave loose ends, Caroline. Until we know otherwise, you’re still a loose end.”
Her jaw tightens. “I said I’d testify for you.”
“I know. That’s a good start.” I gesture to the tray. “Eat.”
I turn to leave again, but her voice stops me once more. Softer this time. “Do you believe me? About wanting to help you?”
I look back at her. Really look. She’s not trying to manipulate. Not playing games. She’s exhausted, scared, and still trying to survive with some scrap of dignity intact.
“I believe you want to help,” I say. “But I also believe people will say anything when they’re cornered.”
She doesn’t flinch. Just meets my gaze like she’s waiting to be disappointed. “You touched me like you believed me,” she murmurs, her hazel eyes shining with tears.
It’s not just a fact. It’s an accusation, and I feel it like one.
I look down at my feet and press my tongue to the inside of my cheek.
I touched her, amidst all of this. And it was different than the way Rian touched her, the way he tricked her into something with a motive.
I shared a night with her, with everything on the table.
“The truth is I want to keep you safe, but I don’t know if I can,” I say finally, swallowing hard before looking up at her. She’s picking at her fingernails, her food to the side and her knees up to her chest.
Her eyes are wide and serious. “But you’ll try?” Her knees fall to the side, revealing her soft slit, pink and swollen. I don’t know if it’s on purpose, but it works on me. I instantly harden and my mouth waters.
My eyes glued to her stubbled pussy, I nod at her and hurry out of the room before I make a mistake for the second time, this time while everyone is awake.
She can make as many promises as she wants, but they’re all under duress as far as the mafia is concerned. We all know by now that people will say anything to save their lives. We’ve watched people pledge their lives to us as we take hammers to their knees, and they never mean any of it.
It’s just survival, and that’s something Caroline knows too much about.