CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
KIERAN
SHE’S STILL ASLEEP, her body curled beneath the blankets, her breath slow and even. A red curl has fallen across her face, and I brush it away, my fingers barely skimming the soft skin of her cheek. She’s warm, her cheeks flushed from deep sleep, and for a moment, I just watch her. Peaceful. Unaware. I hate waking her.
Charlie jumps onto the bed, his weight dipping the mattress, and his tail thumps against my leg before he shoves his face into hers, licking eagerly. Hazel stirs, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips as she reaches out blindly for him.
And then, it’s like a switch flips.
Her eyes snap open, her smile vanishing as fast as it appeared. She goes stiff beside me, blinking up at the ceiling like she’s just remembered what we did last night.
I just hope she doesn’t regret it.
I don’t.
“Good morning,” I say, my voice steady, watching for any sign of hesitation. “How did you sleep?”
Her brows furrow, and instead of answering right away, she pulls the blanket tighter around her body, a barrier between us.
“Good,” she says finally. “I honestly didn’t think I would sleep at all.”
I know what she means. Too much happened. Too much changed. But for me, there’s no uncertainty.
“I need you to get dressed.” I pull away from the bed, grabbing the coffee I picked up for her from the cafe downstairs. It’s still warm in my hand when I turn back to face her.
She hasn’t moved.
“Hazel.” My voice is firm now. “We have to do this.”
She swallows hard, the fear flickering in her eyes. It kills me to see it, but there’s no other way.
And she knows it.
Hazel doesn’t move right away. She just stares at me, her fingers gripping the blanket like it’s the only thing holding her together.
I sigh, setting her coffee on the nightstand before turning away. She needs a moment, and I’ll give it to her, but not much longer.
By the time I grab my gun from the dresser and check the clip, I hear her shifting behind me. The bed creaks, the sheets rustling as she pulls herself up. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see her wrap the sheet around her like armor, gathering her scattered clothes from the floor.
She doesn’t look at me when she moves toward the bathroom.
I let her go.
Charlie watches her disappear behind the door before hopping off the bed and trotting toward me, his tail wagging. He has no idea what’s coming.
Hazel doesn’t take long. When she steps out, her red curls are damp, where she must have splashed water on her face. She’s dressed, but I can see the hesitation in her stiff shoulders, the way she hugs herself like she’s trying to keep something in.
I grab the car keys and our belongings from the table where I had left them. “Let’s go.”
She nods once, silent, before following me out. She’s quiet in the elevator, even as we check out. Charlie follows, ever obedient.
The drive to Monalty is quiet also.
Hazel sits beside me, staring out the window, her coffee cradled in her hands. She hasn’t taken a sip.
I keep one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against my thigh. My focus stays on the road, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch the way she chews on her lip, her fingers twitching slightly against the cup.
She’s thinking about last night.
I want to tell her it won’t change anything. That I’m still here, and she’s still mine. But I don’t. Some things don’t need words.
When we pull onto her street, my stomach tightens; this is where it all began.
I’m not sure what makes me tilt my head as I glance at her home, but I notice the door is slightly ajar. The frame around the lock is splintered where someone forced their way in. The windows are intact, but I already know the inside will be worse. It always is.
Charlie shifts in the backseat.
Hazel hasn’t noticed yet; she might not.
I park outside and turn to her. “Stay in the car.”
She frowns, blinking at me. “What?”
“Stay here,” I repeat, my voice leaving no room for argument as I call Charlie, and he follows me out of the car.
Hazal hesitates, looking past me toward the house, but I take a step blocking her view before she can see anything.
The second I was inside, I knew I was right.
They tore the place apart. Drawers pulled from their hinges, furniture overturned, her things scattered across the floor like someone went through every inch of her life and discarded it.
They were looking for something.
I don’t waste time trying to figure out what. Instead, I head for the back door, letting Charlie out into the small backyard.
I don’t look around as I leave. There’s nothing to be done about it now.
When I slide back into the car, Hazel is still gripping her coffee, but her knuckles are white now, her jaw tight.
I don’t mention her house.
It will do no good.
I just put the car in drive and head toward the pub.
The streets of Monalty are dead. Not a sinner around. But, I know Patrick is already here.
His car is parked across the lot, black and unassuming, but I know better. He never shows up alone.
Hazel shifts beside me, finally looking at me.
I glance at her, meeting her gaze. “It’s going to be okay.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods anyway.
I reach for the door handle. “Let’s go.”
She takes a deep breath, straightens her spine, and follows me out of the car and into the pub. “Stay behind me,” I whisper as we enter.
The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke clings to the air as I step into the dimly lit pub, Hazel pressed against my side. She’s silent, but I feel her trembling. She doesn’t belong here, doesn’t understand what standing in this room means. I tighten my grip on her arm, not to hurt, just to keep her steady.
Patrick sits at the far end of the bar, a pint of Guinness in front of him, untouched. He has only one man at his side, a quiet presence at his right. To anyone else, it might look like an opportunity. Less protection means vulnerability. But Patrick isn’t the type to leave himself exposed. This is a message—he wants me to feel safe.
Which means I’m not.
“Kieran.” His voice is warm, but I know better than to be fooled. “You found her.”
“I did.”
He studies Hazel. She stares back, her pulse a frantic rhythm against my fingers. If she were smart, she’d lower her gaze. Instead, she glares at him, and I brace for the explosion.
I step forward, silent, controlled. The burner phone is warm in my palm from where I’ve been gripping it, turning it over, considering. Now, I hold it out to Patrick. His gaze flicks to it, then back to his drink. He doesn’t take the phone. Not yet.
Instead, he lifts his glass, tipping it just enough to watch the foam slide down the sides. He takes a slow sip, unbothered, like I haven’t just handed him proof of Sean’s betrayal. Only when he sets the glass down does he reach for the phone, flipping it open with a flick of his wrist.
“Sean acted alone,” I say, keeping my voice even. “He took her. Planned to ransom her.”
Patrick doesn’t react right away. His thumb moves over the screen, scrolling through the messages at his own pace, like he has all the time in the world.
Hazel swallows hard. I feel it more than I see it.
I nod toward the screen. “The texts are between him and Mary. He wanted a million for her. Calls, timestamps, messages—it’s all there. He kept pushing, but she wouldn’t bite.”
Patrick finally looks up, his expression unreadable. “Mary didn’t agree?”
“That part is unclear. It doesn’t seem she did,” I answer.
His mouth twitches, almost like he finds that amusing. “Shame.”
He flicks through a few more messages, then snaps the phone shut and hands it back to me. I take it, but he isn’t looking at me anymore—his attention shifts.
To Hazel.
“Your turn,” he says.
She tenses, her breath shaky.
Patrick watches her, waiting, like he already knows the answer but wants her to admit it. His voice stays smooth, almost patient. “Is that true?”
She hesitates. My grip tightens just slightly.
“No,” she finally mutters.
Patrick smiles.
“I mean, I don’t know about Mary or a ransom, that part I can’t clarify. But, a man named Sean took me. That much I know.”
Patrick watches Hazel over the rim of his glass. She was right to start off with the truth, it made the lie more convincing. She’s clever.
Patrick hums in approval. “Your parents confirmed it, too.”
Hazel goes still. A horrible, suffocating silence fills the space between us, like a sharp inhale before a scream. “You went near my parents.”
A bad move. Speaking up to Patrick is never wise. I step closer, lowering my voice. “Hazel.” A warning. A plea.
Patrick chuckles, unconcerned. “Lovely people.”
Hazel looks sick. I don’t have time to comfort her. Instead, I face Patrick. “I worked tirelessly to track her down,” I say, voice even. “I killed Sean.”
Patrick nods like it was expected, like it’s barely worth acknowledging. “And what now?”
I glance at Hazel before turning back to him. “I brought her to you.”
The way she stiffens—fuck. She doesn’t see the play yet. She will.
Hazel jerks away from me. “I should have fucking never trusted you.” Her voice cracks on the last word.
I don’t flinch. I keep my eyes on Patrick. “Killing her would be unnecessary and bad for business.”
Patrick tilts his head. “Go on.”
“She’s friends with Mary Walsh. Let her go to France. She’s just a girl who saw the wrong thing. She has no ties to our world anymore.”
Patrick listens, but I know I need more.
I sigh, offering the real bait. “In exchange for letting me walk away, I’ll give you everything I know about the rival family who tried to kill Mary.”
Patrick exhales slowly, tapping his fingers against his glass. He turns the words over in his mind. Weighs them. Then he nods. “You make a great case, Kieran.” He shifts, eyes glinting in the low light. “But I don’t think Hazel living would really be in my best interest.”
Hazel stiffens.
Patrick raises a brow, amusement flickering in his expression. “So, you were bluffing about handing her over.”
I shake my head. “I’ve never disobeyed you, Patrick. But I’ve always said—no women. No children.”
A long pause. Then, Patrick nods. “You are a man of your word.”
He moves before I can react, extracting a gun with a smooth efficiency that speaks of years of practice. Hazel’s breath catches behind me.
Patrick aims.
I don’t hesitate. I step fully in front of her.
Praying that Hazel is wrong. And that I am bulletproof.