Chapter 12 Nic #2
I put a hand to the frame and push through it, already scanning the courtyard before it’s even fully open.
She’s sitting on the same bench as yesterday, hunched forward like her body doesn’t know how to hold her up anymore.
That image kills me. She looks like she’s holding her broken pieces together by force of will. For a second, I’m frozen.
Then I shake myself out of it.
She doesn’t look at me as I approach, but I can tell the moment she knows I’m there. Her shoulders inch down, just a fraction.
“I’m not having another panic attack.” Her voice is soft as she says it. “Just in case you were…” She trails off before she can finish that sentence, her cheeks heating. “Wondering.”
“I was. You left fast. Didn’t know if you were upset.”
She shifts beside me, her leg brushing against mine. I almost follow her as she pulls away.
“I’m—I don’t know. There’s just so much going around my head. It’s overwhelming. And the women are lovely, but they talk a lot and they don’t say it, but they see him when they look at me.”
Blade.
She winces. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?”
The look she gives me is amused. “Have you seen you?”
I’m a big guy and I know how I look to people who don’t know me. I don’t like that she thinks the same.
I lean back, one arm resting along the back of the top of the bench behind her. Not touching, but close enough she feels the heat of me.
“I’m not a threat. Not to you.”
Her eyes slide toward me. “I didn’t mean I’m scared of you.”
Fuck. The way she says it… I hear the unspoken truth. She’s nervous because she’s affected by me.
“Good. I don’t ever want you to feel afraid of me.”
“I’m not. I feel… better with you. Like I don’t have to pretend to be fine.” It comes out quiet. I feel it through my bones anyway.
“You don’t. Ain’t lookin’ for a show. And I don’t expect shit from you, other than what you’re doin’. Eatin’, breathin’, existin’.”
Her lips curl just a fraction. “Being useless, you mean.”
“I mean exactly what I just said.”
She lets that settle for a second before she exhales slowly, leaning back. My arm behind her brushes her and without thinking, I start to trace circles on her nape.
I wait for her to pull away, but she doesn’t. I don’t either.
“I don’t want to be a burden,” she says finally.
“You ain’t.”
“I figured this would be over by now, but…” She sighs. “Do you know what’s going on with my brother? Maybe if I can talk to him, I can fix this.”
My fingers still on her neck. It’s too late to fix anything, but I can’t leave her clinging to a hope that doesn’t exist.
She clocks the shift in me and tenses. “Nic… What’s he done now?”
Fuck. I don’t want to do this, not when she finally looks like she’s breathing again.
But I won’t lie to her face. I can’t.
I should’ve told her before this, should’ve ripped that plaster off clean that night in the bar, but she was already drowning, already carrying too much. I didn’t want to add more.
I sit forward, pulling my hand from her neck. I don’t want distance, but she might.
I scrub my face. “Keeley, you ain’t gonna be able to talk to him.”
Her brows knit together. “Why not?”
“‘Cause he’s gone.”
She stares at me. “Gone where? You mean he ran?”
I meet her gaze and I hate that the look she’s giving me is going to disappear the moment I drop this. “He’s dead.”
Every bone in my body twitches with the need to reach for her when she freezes. I wait for her to shatter, to lose it, but she doesn’t move or speak. Somehow that’s worse.
Her hand lifts slowly to her throat and I swear my lungs seize.
Then she asks the most natural question anyone would after learning someone died.
“How?” My stomach drops into my boots. Stupidly, I didn’t expect it. I should’ve, but I was so caught up in shielding her that I didn’t stop to think about what she’d say after the word ‘dead’ left my mouth. “How did he die?”
I don’t know how to answer that without her looking at me like I’m the fucking monster who murdered her brother.
Without tearing away the safety she’s built around herself in the past few days.
“He crossed the wrong people,” I say carefully.
It’s not a lie. He did. He crossed me and my brothers, and fucking paid for that with his life.
But it’s not the whole truth either. It’s still a lie by omission, and that sits in my gut like a fucking boulder—even if it’s the truth she needs right now.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Keeley’s quiet for a beat that stretches too long. I should’ve told her everything, should’ve ripped the truth out clean, but I can’t. Not when it’ll break something I’m not ready to lose.
“I always—” She clears her throat. “I always knew his lifestyle would get him killed one day. Didn’t think it would be before he hit thirty.”
That’s not what I thought she’d say, but my muscles unlock a little. “You okay?”
Her eyes lift to mine. “No. Yes. I feel… relief and that’s gross, right? Good people don’t feel relief when their brother dies. Monsters do.”
I grab her hand before I can think about it. “No. Fuck no, sunshine. You don’t owe him your grief. Not after what he did to you.”
Her fingers are warm in mine, and she squeezes gently. That feels like she handed me the world.
“I’m angry too. He made a mess and I can’t even scream at him about it. I guess that means his deal’s done.” She laughs, but it’s hollow. “What does that mean for me?”
She still thinks she’s collateral. Still thinks there’s a scenario where she’s handed over.
Fuck. That.
“Nothin’ changes.”
“Everything changes,” she counters.
Her eyes lower, a ripple of fear working through her. I tip her chin with my free hand. I hate the uncertainty dancing in her eyes, hate the way she’s not sure if she’s going to be saved or sacrificed.
“Nothin’ changes,” I repeat, the words rough and final. “You stay here. I protect you. That’s it. No one comes near you. No one takes you. No one touches you.”
Her throat bobs. “I’m scared.”
I know she is, but her saying it aloud fucking guts me.
My hand rests on her nape, solid and warm, and I force her to look at me while I deliver this promise. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to you. You believe that, right?”
Her breath leaves her like she’s been holding it for days. “Yeah. I do.”
That trust, fuck, it cuts me open. I don’t deserve it, but I’ll earn it. Every fucking day.
I squeeze her nape gently and then she drops her forehead to my chest, her fingers clutched around my kutte.
I freeze for half a second. Then my arms wrap around her. As soon as she’s pressed against my chest, I press a kiss into her hair. “I won’t let them touch you, sunshine,” I vow.
I don’t give a shit who Morozov is or what connections he has. He comes for her and I’ll fucking burn down every inch of whatever backwater empire he thinks he’s built.