Chapter 39 Octavian
OCTAVIAN
Son of a bitch drugged me.
That's the first thing that comes into my mind as I wake up. Through the pounding in my head, through the blurred vision, I can't believe he did that.
I try to move, and pain lances through my shoulder, the stab wound and cuts from earlier. The fabric of my shirt sticks to the wounds, dried blood cracking as I shift and pulling at my skin, reopening them.
I flex my fingers, but my hands won't move.
I know they're zip-tied behind me. Pretty tight, too, tight enough that my fingers tingle, circulation cut off.
I blink a few times, forcing my eyes to focus.
I look down and see my feet tied to the legs of a chair that's bolted to the floor.
I look around the room.
Where am I?
It's a small concrete room, maybe ten feet by ten feet. A single light juts out of the wall just above the door.
Then it hits me.
The Killaney estate. Their basement. Yes, Declan showed me this room once, on my tour when I first arrived.
I saved her. I tracked her through that hellhole, fought my way through maniacs with blades, hauled her out with blood still pouring from her arm. I killed for her. Killed for them.
And this is how they repay me?
Tied to a chair like a dog. Waiting for judgment.
Rage floods my chest, and I pull against the restraints, testing them. The zip tie bites into my skin, unforgiving, and the chair doesn't even creak.
I can hear footsteps somewhere, mixed with muffled voices. I guess they're up there now, talking about me. Deciding my fate.
My jaw clenches. If it goes south, they're going to kill me here.
In this cold, empty room, they'll put a bullet in my head and dump my body somewhere no one will find it. Just another foreign operative who got too close.
But if they come, I'll fight. Let them see firsthand what's left when you push a man who's already lost everything.
I knew better. I fucking knew better.
I close my eyes, and a memory crashes over me without warning, sharp and vivid.
Bucharest. Nicolae's on speaker. Hours before I left for Boston.
"Let them take the package if it comes to that," he says, his voice smooth as glass. "So we can come out saviors."
"And if they hurt her?"
Nicolae's voice doesn't change.
"This is how we secure the alliance, Octavian. The Killaneys need to see you as their solution, not their threat. You let them take her, you track her, you get her before anything permanent happens and take care of their problem, and we win. Simple. You've done a hell of a lot worse for us."
I don't respond. Can't. Because he's right, I have done worse.
But never to someone I—
"Your mother's secret stays buried as long as you do this," Nicolae adds. "One job, Octavian. One job, and you're free. I'll give you whatever you want once this is over."
Free.
I open my eyes. My hands clench behind the chair.
So fucking stupid.
I should've walked away the second he told me the plan. Should've told him to find another to do his dirty work.
But I didn't.
Because I needed that secret buried, and I thought I could control it.
Because I thought I was smart enough, fast enough, ruthless enough to keep her safe and give Nicolae what he wanted.
I was wrong.
I mentally retrace the night, trying to find the exact moment it all went to hell.
What I expected was the Morrígan operatives grabbing Keira at the gala. Subtle and predictable. I'd track the bracelet, follow at a distance, kill the Phantom King, end the threat, and pull her out before anything bad happened.
Clean and simple.
But when the lights went out instantly, no warning, no time to react, and then when I found her, I still thought I could give her family and my uncle what they wanted, and I'd get the only thing I wanted: her.
But she was strapped to an altar, surrounded by fanatics, her forearm carved open and bleeding.
The M.
And her blood pooling on the stone beneath her.
I remember the look she gave me when I cut the ropes, not relief or gratitude.
Fear.
Of me. Because she knew. Somehow they knew.
My breathing quickens, and my chest feels tight.
I was supposed to protect her and let them do that to her.
My plan was supposed to work. I was supposed to be fast enough, smart enough to stop it before they touched her.
But I wasn't.
I lost the moment those lights went out.
I direct my anger at my uncle. Nicolae forced me to entertain this.
For my mother's secret.
The one thing I couldn't let surface, the one piece of leverage Nicolae has always held over me. The reason I'm still tied to this family, still answering his calls, still doing jobs I hate.
Fuck.
I thought I was doing the right thing. Thought I could save her by letting it happen, by following the plan, by being smarter than the threat.
But maybe I wasn't.
Maybe my judgment was clouded.
Maybe emotions were running rampant in my mind, twisting my logic, making me believe I could have both, Keira's safety and Nicolae's approval.
I put the damn tracker on her wrist myself.
I held her. Kissed her. Fucked her. And the whole time, I knew this would happen one way or another.
The thought makes me sick.
My head is spiraling out of control, thoughts and emotions clashing.
Another memory floods in, how she asked about my brother, how she asked how she looked, how she drinks her cappuccinos, how she wipes the corner of her mouth after taking a bite of food. How she smells, tastes.
Dammit.
Sitting in this chair, hands bound, blood drying on my shoulder, I realize I should've told her the truth when I could, the moment I felt it.
That she ruined me, and I'm trying to figure out which is worse: the fact that I would burn the world for her, or that I don't know how to walk away from her.
I'm flooded with regret. Not for what I did, but for what I didn't say.
That I love her.
I've never loved anyone the way I love Keira.
Not family love, that's duty and obligation.
Not loyalty love, that's respect and shared history.
This is different.
This love is obsessive and consuming. It's world-ending love.
I memorized everything about her.
I can't sleep unless I know she's safe.
I would've killed Nicolae if he touched her.
The realization settles in my chest like a stone.
I fell in love with her.
Maybe it was the night I carried her unconscious body out of the explosion. Maybe it was before that.
Maybe the first time she defied me, green eyes blazing, chin tilted up, daring me to try and control her.
But it took all this, this chair, this basement, this moment, to make me realize it.
And she'll never know, because I ruined it, and I can't blame her for how she feels.
I don't know why, but I suddenly imagine her years from now.
Older and stronger, maybe free of this mafia life.
Someone asks about the scar.
She lifts her arm, traces the jagged M with her fingertips, and says, "A man I cared for used me as bait."
The thought breaks something inside me.
My head drops forward, chin almost touching my chest.
I deserve this chair. I deserve worse.
The door creaks open, and I hear footsteps.
I lift my head to see him walk in.
"You're awake."
It's Shane. Declan's right hand.
I don't respond. Just lower my head and stare at the floor between my feet.
"Declan wanted to put a bullet in you the second he saw her arm," Shane says. "Callum's the only reason you're still breathing."
My jaw tightens.
Where is she?
The words stick in my throat, but I force them out.
"Where is she?"
"Upstairs. Safe. No thanks to you."
The words hit like a knife between the ribs.
"They're deciding in the morning, I guess," Shane continues. "Whether you're worth keeping alive."
I lift my head, meet his eyes.
"And if I'm not?"
Shane's expression doesn't change.
"You'll feel pain like never before."
He turns to leave, and I break.
"Did she ask for this?"
Shane stops, his back to me.
"Ask for what?"
"My execution."
The silence stretches between us, and I start to fear his response.
"She ain't trying to stop it."
The words land like a death sentence.
I swallow hard.
"If it comes to that," I say, "I'd like to just tell her my side."
Shane doesn't turn around.
"We'll see."
The door slams, and the lock clicks.
I'm alone again, and my breathing slows.
I close my eyes, and for the first time in years, I don't fight the restraints.
I just sit and think.
If she listens to me, forgives me, and lets me live, I'll spend the rest of my life proving I'd die for her.
If she doesn't, I'll die knowing she was the only woman I ever loved.