Chapter 27 Lyra
LYRA
My cheek rests against something soft, a silk pillowcase, maybe. A heavy weight pulls at my limbs, like I'm submerged in water. My skull throbs with each heartbeat. I've been here before. This foggy space between unconsciousness and waking.
Then the ache in my arm hits, a dull throb in the crook where I know I stuck the needle.
My eyes flutter open.
The ceiling above me I don't recognize. It's not Declan's room.
I rub my eyes, trying to clear the blurriness.
When my vision clears, I register a man sitting in an armchair beside the bed.
At first, I think it's Declan. He's got the same sharp cheekbones and dark hair, but he's different. His eyes are the same unmistakable shade of green, though, too vivid to be anyone else's family but Declan's.
And speaking of, memories flash through my mind. Blood. So much blood. Him on the table. My hand shaking as I pushed the needle into my vein.
"Declan!" I bolt upright, ignoring the wave of dizziness that nearly knocks me back down. "Is he—"
"He's fine. Don't worry," the man says, his voice calm.
"Thank fucking god," I breathe, slumping back against the headboard.
As my vision sharpens, I get a better look at the stranger. He's got the same beautiful features as Declan, but where Declan's built like a boxer, this guy is leaner.
"You must be his brother?" I ask.
He nods. "Yes, I'm Callum."
I shake my head, trying to clear the persistent fog, wiping my palms down my face.
"I'm—"
"Oh, I know who you are," he interrupts, sitting forward slightly.
Something in his tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. "You do?"
He smiles. "Lyra Cassidy. Twenty-five. Former nurse for the Albanian mob in Boston."
I freeze. My last name. He knows my last name. Of course he does. The Killaneys wouldn't let their precious prince near someone without a thorough background check.
"Yep," I say.
"Your father's dead, which given what he did, I'm assuming you didn't cry over. Your mother moved to California, though she still keeps in touch with your sister, Nora. Who, interestingly enough, thinks you're dead."
My breath catches. Nora. My spine straightens, every muscle in my body tensing. How deep did they dig? What else do they know?
"How the hell—"
"She's engaged, by the way. Recently," Callum continues, his tone conversational, as if we're discussing the weather. "To a Max Perkins. Did you know that?"
A slow, cold panic trickles through me. How the fuck does he know that? How close was he watching me, or her?
"You can leave my sister out of this," I say, my voice low and tight, a protective instinct sparking to life in my chest.
Callum tilts his head. "You wouldn't want anything to happen to her, would you?"
"What the fuck do you mean by that?" Heat flushes my face, anger pushing through the lingering weakness.
He leans back slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "It's a simple question, Lyra. Answer it."
"No, of course not." The words feel torn from my throat.
He nods, satisfied. "Okay, so we both agree putting our siblings in danger isn't a good thing."
"I didn't put Declan in—"
He holds up a hand, silencing me mid-sentence.
"This is how I see it." His tone shifts, colder now, less charming. "You used to work for the Albanians. How you came to them is irrelevant."
"Is it?" I can't help the bitterness in my voice.
"For me, yes. Was it shitty and fucked up for you?
One hundred percent. Would I do it? No. If I had kids, I'd kill every motherfucker on earth before I'd let someone take my daughter.
" He pauses, clearing his throat. "But I don't know you.
I know of you, your whole Ghost Angel thing, what you did, how you became the nurse for my brother and his damn fucking fighting shit that he refuses to quit.
But now he's laid out on a dining room table because someone came after him. "
"I saved him, you know," I say, jabbing a finger toward my chest. "Me. I stitched him up. I gave him my blood."
"I know," Callum says smoothly. "That's why you woke up."
His thinly veiled response hangs in the air between us. If I hadn't saved Declan, I wouldn't be breathing right now.
"Is that a threat?" I ask, my voice low.
He shrugs. "It's a fact."
I narrow my eyes. "You're an asshole."
He laughs. "I like your fire. I'm sure that's part of why Declan's taken an interest in you. But let's be honest, my brother's a womanizer. You shouldn't read too much into whatever the hell the two of you are doing."
My fists clench in the sheets. I want to tell him to get the fuck out, that he doesn't know what he's talking about. But I'm too weak, too lightheaded still. And something tells me this man doesn't bluff.
"Maybe he's changed. Maybe you don't know him now," I say.
"I know him better than you ever will."
He looks at me for a moment, his eyes going intense, like Declan, but different.
"I feel like you had some part in this," he says, standing slowly. "Maybe not directly. Maybe not on purpose. But I don't need him getting distracted from family business. We've got a lot going on."
"I'm sorry, what are you saying?" My head throbs with each word.
"Let me be clear. I don't know you. I don't trust you.
You come around, something like this happens.
" He gestures vaguely with one hand. "Even whatever the fuck is going on as to why you're staying here.
You want to be nurse to his fighters or do whatever you do to make money, fine, but leave it at that. You understand me?"
I don't respond. What can I say? He's both right and wrong.
I did let this life get to me. I did let Declan take me without much protest. And I have no idea what happened, but maybe it was in retaliation for what he did to the Albanians, and that comes back to me. God, I hope I wasn't the cause of this.
"You saved him, Lyra. I respect that. So I'm giving you a pass. One," Callum says, holding up a finger. "Don't make me regret it."
"I didn't do anything," I say, my voice sounding weak.
"Maybe not." His eyes burn into me. "But you're a variable. And I don't like variables." He clenches his jaw. "So we understand each other?"
I nod, speechless. The rational part of me understands. He's looking out for his brother, his family. But another part, the part that spent time with Declan, fighting to keep him alive, wants to tell him to go fuck himself.
He smooths his already immaculate jacket. "No hard feelings. I'm just protecting my family. I hope you understand. Also—"
A sudden knock at the door interrupts him. We both look up as a woman with fiery red hair walks in. She glances between Callum and me, her expression guarded.
"He's up," she says, then looks at me. "And he wants to see you."
My heart jumps.
Declan's awake.
And for the first time since I collapsed, I feel everything at once. The fear, the guilt, the relief, and the love I'm too afraid to name for the man I saved, regardless of whatever the fuck anyone says.