Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SORCHA
Meeting Annastasia’s gaze, I shake my head slightly, and her eyes tighten, but she relaxes a fraction.
It’s all well and good for Axl to piss her off, but I’m the one who will end up in the firing line.
As far as I’m concerned, I want to keep Annastasia on my good side.
Maybe not to join forces with to overthrow the Cerberus Order, but also maybe to do precisely that.
Trust is not exactly handed out on silver platters.
I learned a long time ago to be very careful who I give it to.
“Excuse us, we have class to get to,” I say, and grab my bag, stalking forward as I sling it over my shoulder.
Axl is behind me as we reach Annastasia.
She sidesteps to let us through, her gaze boring into my back, but she knows the score.
Or at least the score I’m telling her: our deal is still on, but leave me to it.
Axl’s hand lands on the nape of my neck, a possessive weight against the cuts that Ciar gave me as we move into the crowded hallway.
“Managing your assets, sunshine?” he asks.
He didn’t miss a thing. Of course, he didn’t.
“Every queen needs allies,” I reply, my gaze fixed on the throng of students ahead. “Even the ones who might stab her in the back.”
He chuckles. “Just make sure you see the knife coming.”
“Listen up, Axl. I’ll say this once. Annastasia O’Shea is a tool, a potential weapon, but never a friend. In this world, friends are just enemies you haven’t pissed off yet.”
Axl pulls me to a stop, turning me to face him. His eyes are dark, intense. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking my cheek. “Vicious. Calculating. Perfect.”
The praise is a poison I’m starting to crave.
He accepts the darkness in me. He’s nurturing it, feeding it.
He leans in and kisses me, hard and fast, a seal on his words.
It’s not about lust; it’s a mark of approval, a coronation.
I don’t kiss him back. I just take it, absorbing the possessive press of his lips, the faint taste of coffee and control.
When he pulls away, I don’t feel claimed. I feel seen.
He keeps his hand on my cheek as we start moving again, his thumb a constant, distracting caress.
The crowds part for us, a sea of whispers and averted eyes.
We’re a spectacle. His property on display.
But the anger that should be simmering in my gut is gone, replaced by a cold, sharp thrill.
He’s just showing me how to use the weapons I’ve had all along.
“What’s next?” I ask, my voice a low murmur.
“Lunch in the courtyard where I want to watch while Cillian fucks you like he did yesterday.”
My breath hitches. The words are a slap, a crude fantasy laid bare, a test of how far I’m willing to be pushed.
He’s not asking. He’s telling me what my afternoon looks like.
My pussy gives a traitorous clench at the thought of Cillian’s huge cock buried deep inside me while Axl watches, his eyes devouring every thrust.
“Ambitious,” I say, my voice a low, steady purr that betrays none of the chaos inside me. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”
He raises a perfect eyebrow. “What’s that, sunshine?”
“Cillian doesn’t take orders from you.”
Axl’s smile is dark. “You think this is an order? This is a gift. For all of us.”
We step out into the cold autumn air, and I shiver, pulling the coat closer around me.
Silently, I let him lead me to the courtyard that Cillian dragged me into yesterday.
As if this were planned, Cillian is already waiting.
His blue eyes lock onto mine with that unreadable intensity that makes my pulse kick up a notch.
The courtyard is empty, just like yesterday, the stone walls blocking out the wind but not the chill that races over my skin.
He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even acknowledge Axl, but the air between us thickens, charged with whatever twisted game this is.
Axl’s hand drops from my back, and he steps aside to take a seat on one of the stone benches.
I glance between them, heat flooding my core even as a spark of defiance flares in my chest. This isn’t just about getting off—it’s another layer of their control, another test to see if I’ll bend.
But the ache between my legs wins out, and he knows it.
They both do. My back hits the cold stone wall as Cillian presses against me, drawing one leg up so he can wedge himself between my thighs.
The hard length of his cock grinds into me through our clothes, and I grind back, needing the friction, needing him.
His fingers dig into my thigh, bruising in the best way.
The shot that sails over my head is a loud crack as the bullet buries itself in the courtyard wall.
With a grunt, Cillian drags me into a crouch as he goes into enforcer mode.
My heart slams against my ribs as Cillian’s massive body shields mine like a human wall. Chaos erupts in my veins—fear, fury, the sharp tang of adrenaline flooding my mouth. Who the fuck is shooting at us? At me? I try to get a look, but he is a mountain blocking my view.
“Stay down,” he growls, his voice a low thunder that vibrates through my chest.
Axl joins us, crouching low. “Sniper. Bold. Not that far out.”
“Where?” Cillian asks.
“North West corner.”
“Why did they miss?” I croak, not wanting to tempt fate, but a sniper missing has only two options.
They’re crap at their job, or they meant to.
I’m going with option B for this one. Cillian’s massive frame pins me tighter against the wall, his breath hot and steady against my ear, like he’s done this a hundred times before.
“Warning shot,” he mutters, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the pounding in my skull. “They want us rattled, not dead.”
I twist just enough to glare at him, my pulse hammering wildly in my throat. “Us? Or me? Because that bullet had my name on it.”
Axl edges closer, his eyes scanning the rooftops, cool as ever, like we’re discussing the weather instead of dodging lead. “Doesn’t matter. We’re getting you out of here. Cillian, let’s move.”
Before I can argue, Cillian hauls me up by the waist, and we bolt for the nearest archway with Axl right behind.
It leads up a garden path to a building that looks like a groundskeeper’s shed.
Axl opens the door, and we burst inside, the heavy wood slamming shut behind us, echoing like a gunshot itself.
Cillian turns to face me, his hands roaming over me quickly, checking for injuries. “You good?”
“I’m fine,” I snap, shoving his hands away, though my voice shakes more than I like. Adrenaline surges through me, hot and electric, making my skin buzz. “But if that was a warning, who’s sending it? O’Malley’s crew? O’Shea?”
I glare at Axl, but he ignores it and says instead, “Could be anyone you’ve pissed off. That’s a long list, sunshine. But snipers on campus? That’s unheard of. Means they’ve got balls or a death wish.”
Cillian’s eyes narrow, his body still coiled tight, ready to snap. He doesn’t say much, but I see the fury and the promise of violence bubbling under his skin. “We move now. Back to Axl’s. The woods at the back here circle around. We can stay undercover.”
I open my mouth to fire something back, but the reality hits me hard. Someone just took a shot at me in broad daylight. This isn’t street brawls or crypt fights; this is… new.
I’m in way over my head, and for the first time since I stepped foot on this campus, I’m not sure I can fight my way out.
“Move,” Cillian says, his hand wrapping around my wrist in that bruising grip I’m starting to recognise as his version of comfort. “Stay between us.”
We slip out the back door of the shed. The woods loom ahead, dense and dark despite the midday sun.
My boots crunch on fallen leaves as we move fast, keeping low.
Axl brings up the rear, his footsteps nearly silent behind me.
The three of us move like a unit, no words needed, just pure survival instinct kicking in.
The trees are dense, their branches a skeletal canopy overhead that filters the weak autumn sun into ghostly patterns on the forest floor.
Every nerve in my body is screaming. My eyes dart to every shadow, every rustle of wind through the branches.
Is the sniper tracking us? Are they moving into position for a better shot?
“Who knew we’d be there?” I hiss.
“No one,” Axl says from behind me, his voice tight. “That’s the problem.”
Cillian’s grip on my wrist tightens as we weave between the trees, his body a constant shield between me and the direction we’re heading to. “Not no one. Someone’s been watching. Tracking patterns.”
“The same people who wanted me arrested?”
“Maybe,” Axl says. “We can’t make assumptions, nor rule anything out.”
Cillian grunts and pulls to a stop.
“What in the fuck was that?” Ciar growls, appearing out of literally nowhere for a man of his size.
I open my mouth, but Cillian cuts me off. “Sniper. North West corner. Warning shot.”
Ciar’s face darkens, a storm gathering behind his eyes. “Campus?”
“Yeah,” Axl confirms, scanning the trees around us. “Bold move.”
“Stupid move,” Ciar corrects. His gaze drops to me, and the fury in his eyes makes my breath catch. It’s not directed at me, it’s for me. A protective rage that’s so visceral it makes the air between us crackle. “Who the fuck is stupid enough to take a shot at you on campus in broad daylight?”
“That’s the million-euro question,” Axl says, his voice clipped. “Instead of standing out here waiting to be shot, how about we keep moving to get her inside?”
Ciar nods and turns, leading the way out of the woods to an overgrown pathway that appears to run along the back walls of the townhouses on Axl’s road.
Axl pushes to the front and leads the way. We stop at a door built into a wall, and he flashes a keycard. It unlocks, and we duck inside the garden, closing the door behind us.