Chapter 5 Keira
KEIRA
The hallway's too damn quiet.
I hate the sound of my boots on the marble, the way the guards straighten when I pass. Hate that I know exactly where this conversation I'm about to have is going before I even push through those doors.
Callum's office is just ahead, and my pulse kicks up.
Not from fear.
From subtle rage I'm trying hard to maintain. I tell myself this is for Declan, but I don't know how much that'll help when I'm worked up.
I shove the doors open without knocking. Why the hell would I? This is still our house, even if Callum's been treating it like his personal kingdom.
Callum and Declan both look at me, but my attention doesn't land on them. It can't. Because it's already on him.
Jesus Christ.
The man standing between my brothers is nothing like I expected.
He's tall. No, tall doesn't even cover it. He's massive. Dark hair and eyes with a defined jawline. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, filling out his perfectly tailored suit like he's born to wear it.
And tattoos.
Not a few. Not the kind you get when you think a little ink will make you dangerous. These are bold, black, wrapping up his neck and crawling over his knuckles.
He looks like the kind of man who's stared down death so many times, it got bored and left him alone.
Great.
Just what I need.
His brown eyes are already tracking me the moment I step inside, assessing me. I can feel it.
If I didn't hate the very thing he's here to do, I'd let him buy me a drink.
But I already know from the way he stands, taking up space like it belongs to him, that he's going to do his job too well.
And I'm not going to like him for it.
"Keira," Callum says, clearing his throat. "We were just discussing—"
"My new babysitter?" I cut in, stepping further into the room. "Yeah, I figured."
Declan laughs. "Be nice."
"Why? He's not here to be my friend."
The Romanian doesn't react. Doesn't blink. Just watches me with that same unreadable calmness he's had on his face since I came in.
It's infuriating.
Callum gestures toward him. "This is Octavian. He'll be with you starting tomorrow. Driver, security detail, whatever you need. With you wherever you go."
"I don't need anything," I say, crossing my arms. "Especially not him."
Callum sighs, like this is all going exactly how he expected.
"We've been over this, Keira," Callum says, voice cold.
I turn my attention to Octavian, tilting my head as I look him over. Up close, he's even more imposing. The sharp lines of his face, the faint scar cutting through his left eyebrow, the way his suit jacket strains against his chest.
He doesn't flinch under my scrutiny.
"So," I say sarcastically, "you're the guy they imported to follow me around like a lost puppy?"
His expression doesn't change. "I'm the guy who keeps you alive."
"I've been doing fine on my own," I say.
"Until you're not," he replies, his tone flat. "And then it's too late."
I laugh, sharp and bitter. "Wow. You really know how to charm a girl, don't you?"
He doesn't say anything.
"He's familiarizing himself with your schedule tonight," Callum says, walking around his desk.
"I have plans tonight," I say.
"Not without me, Ms. Killaney," Octavian says.
I blink.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I miss the part where I asked you?"
He cracks his neck. "I don't need permission. Just cooperation."
I let out a laugh. "Well, you're off to a terrible fucking start, then."
Declan winces.
Octavian doesn't move. Just watches me like I'm a storm cloud he's already decided to walk through.
"Callum," I say, turning to my brother. "This is ridiculous. I don't need a shadow. Especially not one who looks like he moonlights as a bouncer."
Octavian steps forward for the first time.
It doesn't scare me, but it sure as hell pisses me off.
"You don't need to like me," he says, voice like steel. "You just need to be alive at the end of the night."
Cool. Another overgrown alpha with a God complex who probably has a knife fetish.
Callum clears his throat. "As I was saying, I've given Octavian your schedule. Covering security protocols for public events."
"Public events?" I say, my gaze shifting away from Octavian to Callum. "You mean the galas I run? The fundraisers that keep my foundation going?"
"Yes," Callum says. "And he'll be attending all those with you."
"Absolutely not."
"You'll go where you need to go, and I'll be there. It doesn't need to be difficult," Octavian says.
"Like hell you will," I snap, looking at him. "You can wait in the car. I mean, Callum, do you have any idea how that's going to look? A fucking eight-foot wall of muscle hovering over me at a charity dinner? People will think I'm scared—or worse, he'll scare them."
"I want people around you to be cautious," Octavian says.
"I don't do cautious."
"Then you'll learn."
The air in the room shifts as I step closer to him, closing the distance until I'm standing just a few feet away.
"You think you can just walk in here and tell me what to do?" I ask, my voice low.
"I don't need to tell you," he says. "You'll follow the rules that keep you alive, or I'll make sure you do."
My jaw clenches. "Is that a threat?"
"It's a fact."
Declan shifts. "Alright, alright. Let's dial it back."
"Stay out of this," I say, not taking my eyes off Octavian.
"Let me make something very clear," I say. "I don't care who vouched for you. I don't care what your résumé says. You work for me, not the other way around."
"I work for your family and you're the asset to protect."
"Asset," I repeat. "I'm not a fucking asset. I'm a—"
"You are to me," he says, not letting me finish.
Declan shifts and comes up to me. "He means professionally, Keira. Come on now."
I narrow my eyes. "I don't care what he means."
I step even closer, close enough to hear his very calm breathing, close enough to see the faint stubble on his face.
"Do you always talk to the people you're supposed to protect like this?" I ask.
"Only the ones who plan on getting themselves killed."
"Is that what you think?" I ask.
He doesn't answer.
Because he doesn't need to. I see it in the way he watches me. Like I'm already a fucking liability.
"Keira, that's enough now," Callum says.
"Fine," I say, offering a fake smile. "Follow me around. Hover in the corners. Act like a human CCTV. Just know this." I lean in. "You ever try to control me, you'll regret stepping foot in this house."
"I don't need to control you," he says. "I just need to keep you breathing. What you do in the meantime is your choice."
"Good," I say, forcing a smile. "Because I'm going to make your job a living hell."
His mouth forms into a slight smirk. The first change I've seen since laying eyes on him. It's almost mocking me. "I'm sure we'll be just fine."
Jesus, I hate him.
The way he stands there, unaffected, like I'm nothing more than a problem to solve.
That he doesn't rise to my bait.
Most of all, I really dislike that I can't stop looking at him.
"Just stay out of my way," I say.
"That's not how this works," Octavian says.
Damn it.
I turn on my heel, heading for the door.
"Keira," Callum calls after me.
I don't stop.
"Let her go," Declan says.
"We start in the morning," Callum says as the door shuts behind me.
My hands are shaking.
Not from fear.
From fury.
I make it halfway down the hall before I stop.
Shit, he's for sure going to be a problem.
He's not like the guards I've dealt with before. Men who look away when I slip out, bend rules to keep me happy. Octavian won't, and that makes him dangerous.
I close my eyes, taking a slow breath.
The worst part is I'm fucking conflicted by all this.
From my brothers' ask to the threats. They're real, escalating, and getting close.
But admitting that feels like giving up.
Like letting them win.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out. It’s Calli.
How bad is he?
I stare at the screen for a moment, then type back.
Worse than I thought. But I'll handle it.
Famous last words.
I pocket my phone and start walking again.
I can still feel it, his gaze, even from behind a closed door.
I step outside as my driver opens my door.
Tomorrow's going to be interesting. He's going to learn that I don't break.
Not for him. Not for anyone.