Chapter 37 Keira
KEIRA
He reaches me, dropping to one knee beside the altar.
"You're okay, baby. I got you," he says.
He pulls a knife out and saws through the bindings, and the rope falls away. My wrists throb where the fibers bit into my skin, and I rub them as he cuts off the ones around my ankles.
The moment I'm free, I try to sit up, but pain shoots through my forearm, and I gasp.
Octavian's hand reaches for me, steadying me, and then he's pulling fabric from somewhere—his shirt, maybe—and pressing it against the carved M on my arm.
"I'm so sorry, Keira," he says. "We need to stop the bleeding." His eyes flick between my face and the wound.
I jerk my arm away from him.
"Don't."
"Keira—"
"Don't touch me."
His eyes meet mine, stunned.
"Can you walk?" he asks.
I push myself off the altar, ignoring the way my legs shake, the way my torn dress barely clings to my body.
My bare feet hit the cold floor, and I stumble, but I catch myself before he can reach for me again.
"Are you okay?" he asks, looking down at me.
"I'm fine," I say, pressing the cloth against my forearm.
He doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't argue.
Instead, he steps closer, his hand moving toward my shoulder like he's going to lift me, carry me out of here.
I turn away.
"Stay away from me."
I start moving, one foot in front of the other, my dress dragging against the ground.
Blood drips from my forearm, leaving a trail behind me.
Octavian looks around and then follows, unsure of what to do.
I can feel him watching me, waiting for me to collapse, waiting for an excuse to touch me again.
We make it a few steps before I stop.
I can't hold it in anymore.
"Did you know?" I ask, my voice firm.
He doesn't answer right away, and that hesitation is everything.
It makes my stomach turn.
"Know what?" he finally says.
I turn to face him, and the look on his face says it all.
"This," I say, looking around. "All this. Them taking me?"
Silence.
The kind of silence that confirms everything.
My breath stutters, and I feel like I'm at the edge of the abyss.
"Say something!" I yell.
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Just silence. Guilt sits heavy on his face, and in that second, everything inside me cracks wide open.
I look at him, hoping, praying.
But he just stands there, his jaw working, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
And that's when I know.
He knew.
He fucking knew.
He reaches for me again, and I slap his hand away.
"Keira, I—"
"Don't. Touch. Me."
"Keira!"
"You fucking knew!" I scream, and before I can stop myself, I'm swinging.
My palm connects with his face, the sound sharp in the chamber. I slap his cheek so hard my hand stings.
His head snaps to the side, and he doesn't move, doesn't try to stop me.
"You let them take me," I say, my voice breaking. "What am I to you? Nothing?"
"Keira, listen to me. You don't understand," he says, controlling his rising anger.
"Understand what?" I step closer, my hands shaking, my vision blurring with tears. "That you gave me a bracelet to track me? That you allowed me to go to something where you knew they'd take me?"
I hold up my forearm, the blood still dripping, the M carved into my skin like a brand.
"You brought me to them so they could do this? Brand me?"
And even in my rage, the look that comes across Octavian's face when he sees me standing there bleeding is genuine sadness, but that doesn't change what he did to me.
"God, Keira, no. I never thought—"
"Save it." I cut him off. "You did what you had to do, right? Mission accomplished. I'm not even sure why you bothered saving me."
Just as he's about to say something, shouting erupts from somewhere behind us.
"Fuck." Octavian's head snaps toward the sound, and his entire body shifts, coiling tight. "Reinforcements."
He then turns and looks at me. "We can talk about this later. We need to get out of here. Now."
I don't move.
"I'm not going anywhere with you." I cross my arms, ignoring the pain in my forearm. "How do I know you're not just leading me to the next setup?"
He looks at me, and for a split second, desperation tries to fight its way out of him.
Then the voices get louder.
Closer.
"Fine," he says, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to me. "Your brother is on standby. Call him. Tell him we're coming."
I stare at the phone, then at him.
I grab the phone just as bullets ping off the wall nearby. We both duck.
He grabs my hand. I want to yank away, but survival wins.
"Move!" he shouts.
We start running.
We jump over the bodies of the robed figures, past the altar still wet with my blood, and he leads me down some kind of tunnel.
Of course he'd know about this.
The thought makes me angry, but adrenaline forces me to focus on running.
Another bullet whizzes past, and I duck instinctively.
"Keep going," Octavian says, his voice hard.
We run down this old tunnel, my feet hurting from the rough ground, and we finally reach a wall with light bleeding through a gap.
"Through here," he says, pointing at it. "Hurry."
I turn sideways and squeeze through the gap, the rough wall scraping against my skin, tearing at my dress even more.
It's tight, so tight I can barely breathe, but I push through, gritting my teeth against the pain.
On the other side, I stumble into a stairwell, the air marginally cleaner.
Octavian follows, grunting as he forces his larger frame through the gap.
The moment he's through, he presses his shoulder against the wall and shoves.
He yells as his muscles strain, his face twisting with effort, and then the wall shifts, grinding shut with a heavy thud.
"Up the stairs," he says, pulling his gun back out.
I don't wait.
I start running, my hand fumbling with the phone he gave me.
I dial Declan, my fingers shaking so badly I almost drop it.
"We need help!" I yell into the phone as I climb, my voice echoing in the narrow space. "We need help!"
"Keira?" Declan's voice comes through. "Where the hell are you?"
"We need help!"
"Where are you?" he repeats, sharper now.
"I don't know! In a fucking stairwell, Dec!"
"Can you get outside?"
I turn, still running, and look back at Octavian.
"He's asking if we can get outside."
Octavian doesn't answer, just points up with his free hand.
We reach the top of the stairs, and he holds up a hand, stopping me.
He inches the door open, peering through the crack, then he looks back at me and nods.
"Yes. Come on."
"Yes," I repeat into the phone. "Be ready."
I hang up before Declan can respond and grip the phone tightly.
We burst into a hallway and keep running. Octavian is pulling me through doors, around corners, down hallways that all look the same. We weave through so much I can't track where we are.
"Are you sure we're getting out?" I gasp.
"Yes. I wouldn't let..." He trails off.
"You'd let a lot happen, apparently."
He stops so suddenly I almost crash into him.
He turns, his eyes blazing.
"You don't understand what I was trying to do."
"Well, protecting me, the one thing you said to me over and over when we first met, sure as hell wasn't on your list, because I doubt that involves letting me be kidnapped and branded like cattle."
I brush the hair out of my face, ignoring the way my heart pounds, the way my body aches, and the way I’m fighting back tears.
"Let's make it easy. Did you know they'd take me tonight, and is that why you gave me the bracelet?"
His lips part, then close again. He looks down.
"Yes or no, Octavian."
"It's not that simple."
"Says a guilty man. Yes or no."
He just looks at me, his jaw tight, his teeth biting into his lower lip.
I can see the frustration on his face, but he doesn't say a word.
"Yeah, can't even say it, can you."
"There!" someone shouts from behind us.
Octavian's hand closes around mine, and he pulls me forward.
We run through another door, down another hallway, until we burst into a kitchen.
A man in chef's whites looks up, startled.
"You can't be here," he says, moving toward us.
Then his eyes drop to Octavian's arm, and I notice it for the first time. It's soaked in blood. Maybe he got stabbed or shot. I'm not sure.
Then the man looks at mine, which is still bleeding.
"We need to get out of here," Octavian says, his voice firm, gripping his gun.
The man hesitates for only a second, then points to a door at the far end of the kitchen.
"There's a service elevator that will take you to the loading docks."
We move through, shoving past racks of pots and pans, and find the elevator.
Octavian guides me inside, his hand on my lower back.
I don't push him away this time.
I'm too tired.
He presses the button for the ground floor and slams the close-door button until the doors slide shut.
The elevator jerks, then starts moving.
Octavian turns to me, his eyes scanning my face, my arm.
"Just tell me if you're okay?" he asks.
I scoff.
"You care now?" My voice trembles. "Did the Ionescus get what they wanted? I hope it was worth it."
"Look, I don't know what they told you, but they don't know the truth."
I shake my head, and the tears come before I can stop them.
"You've confirmed they did. They're fucking nuts, but they showed me the tracking device. They told me."
I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand.
"I knew I was just a mission to you. A job. I told you. And you made me feel seen. Special. You came in and shook up my world. Made me fall in love with you. And for what? So you could get what you wanted. Which wasn't me."
The words hang in the air between us.
And for a moment, Octavian just stares at me. The look on his face is one I've never seen before.
Stunned. Shattered.
Like I just gutted him.
Then the elevator stops, and the doors slide open.
Declan and his men are waiting at the loading docks, guns drawn, their faces hard.
The moment they see us, Declan sprints forward.
"What the fuck happened?" he demands, his eyes moving between me and Octavian.
Declan points his gun at Octavian.
"I've been calling you for the past twenty minutes! You shut us out, you didn't answer."
Then Declan's eyes drop to my arm.
To the M.
His face goes white, then red.
"What the fuck is that?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.
I don't answer.
Instead, I look at Octavian.
"Ask him," I say. "He watched the whole thing."
Octavian goes to speak, but I'm done with him and just want to get out of here.
"I'm fine. Let's just go already,” I say and walk to Declan.
Octavian steps forward, his hand reaching for me, but my brother moves faster than I've ever seen him move.
He shoves Octavian back, hard, his hand on Octavian's chest.
"You're done. Get the fuck away from my sister."
"Declan, you don't understand," he says.
"He used me as bait," I say, my voice low. "His uncle ordered it. The bracelet was a tracker."
Declan's face goes murderous.
He doesn't say a word.
He just nods at one of his men, who steps forward and jams something into Octavian's neck.
"What are you doing?" I yell.
Octavian stumbles, his eyes widen, and then his knees buckle. He catches himself against the elevator wall, but his movements are already slowing.
"Relax, Keira," Declan says. "This will just sedate him. We'll take him and figure out next moves. If he did know and let this happen, I'm going to kill him slowly."
Octavian slides down the wall as his head droops. Two of Declan's men catch him before he hits the ground.
Declan grabs my arm, the uninjured one, and pulls me toward the exit.
"I'm calling Lyra so she can look at this," he says, nodding at my forearm. "They'll load him in the car."
I don't look back.
I don't watch as they drag Octavian's limp body toward one of the SUVs.
I just follow Declan into his car and slide into the passenger seat.
The door slams shut, and Declan punches the gas.
The entourage of cars follows, one of them carrying Octavian.
We drive in silence for a few minutes, and I lean back against the seat, trying to calm my racing heart.
My forearm throbs.
My head aches.
My entire body feels like it's been shredded.
"Cormac Donoghue," I say out loud.
Declan's head turns toward me.
"Who's that?"
I close my eyes, the image of his face burned into my mind.
"The Phantom King."