Chapter 31 Livvie
LIVVIE
Panic surges through me, cold as ice, spreading like a snowstorm through my veins.
It’s like my chest is caving in, and the world around me is darker than before.
My heart is hammering in my ears, each beat a reminder of what I’ve just done.
Roman’s blood is still fresh on my hands, soaking through my clothes, staining me with irreversible homicide.
Sure, Kingston fired the final bullet, but I drove a blade into his chest to stop him from hurting my husband.
I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew I’d cross a line. Kill one to save another. But this version of myself isn't who I want to be.
Afterward, Kingston put his arms around me and my heart thumped with so much love I could have cried.
“Princess,” he’d said, his voice so seductive and full of authority. “Let’s go home.”
Home.
I never realized it until this moment, but Kingston is my home now. Not bricks and mortar. Him.
And that thought is both everything I’ve ever craved and everything I fear.
Gazing up at him as he barks orders on his phone, there’s strength in his posture and spatters of blood on his clothes.
He came for his wife without questioning it. And not only that, Kingston brought his brothers with him, too.
Staring at my shaky hands, Roman’s blood is everywhere. I’m bruised, cut open, and just barely holding myself together.
I never wanted to be part of the criminal underworld. I always told my father I’d rather have a violin in my hands than a lethal weapon.
He knew this life would break me, and he didn’t fucking care.
The O’Callaghan name is a shadow that follows me everywhere, a curse I can’t escape. No matter how far I run, my father’s grip will always find me, drag me back.
But now… now I’m a Viacava. And decisions have to be made.
Kingston’s voice holds an edge of frustration as he wraps up the conversation. He finally ends the call, slipping the phone into his pocket and clearing his throat.
His focus lands on me, studying my chattering teeth and deep breaths.
In a swift motion, he takes off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, his cologne surrounding me. He cups my face in his hands and presses a kiss to my dry lips, a soft, reassuring touch that sends warmth back into my black soul.
“Let’s go, princess,” he murmurs, his voice like gravel.
I nod mechanically, my body moving before my mind can catch up. I’m too exhausted to resist, too worn down by everything that’s happened.
My hands are numb, and my body aches all over. Thankfully, he helps me into the back of the SUV, his hand on the small of my back.
When I slide into the seat, he joins me and the door slams shut.
I can’t speak, not with the lump in my throat, not with the torrent of emotions crashing through me.
Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice low and full of concern. “Are you hurt anywhere else, Livvie?”
I stare at my bruised wrists, raw from the cuffs. The bruises are already starting to darken, the marks a vivid reminder of the violence that will always be a part of life.
Without saying another word, he reaches over, his hand gentle as it wraps around my forearm. He brings my wrists to his lips, pressing a kiss to the bruised skin.
His lips linger there for a moment, a silent promise of protection.
“Livvie…” His voice is strained. “Look at me.”
Tears sting the back of my eyes, ready to fall any second.
“I’m fine,” I lie, my voice croaky.
He doesn’t argue. Instead, his hand slides to my waist and he drags me toward him, shifting my body so that I end up sitting on his lap, facing sideways, my arm pressed against his chest.
I’m exhausted, but his warmth, his powerful presence, is the only thing I need right now, and somehow, without telling him that, he gets it.
The tears I’ve been holding back finally start to spill, one by one, and I bury my face into the crook of his neck, unable to stop sobbing.
“Shh…” he whispers. “I’ve got you, princess. You’re safe with me. We’re going back to our place and I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”
But we both know that's not true.
The Red Tribunal wants blood, and if it's not his they sacrifice, it's my whole bloodline.
Eventually, the SUV rolls into the underground car park of our apartment block, the lights flickering on, announcing our arrival.
My heart still pounds, but it’s slower now, the rush of panic beginning to fade, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion.
Kingston’s arms tighten around me, holding me close, the rhythm of his breathing almost lulling me to sleep.
As the car comes to a stop, he kisses the tears from my cheeks and follows the streaks with his thumb.
“Enough of that, princess,” he says in a low rumble. “No more tears for now.”
Without replying, I nod and take a deep breath before climbing off his knee, my legs weak as I move. When the car door opens, I step out first and wrap my arms around myself, hugging tightly, shivering from shock.
Kingston moves in behind me and snakes his arm around my middle, holding me flush against his chest. The coarse hairs on his jaw tickle my cheek when he leans into the side of my face, landing a featherlight kiss on my temple.
I look down, my heart skipping in my chest at the flash of gold on his wedding finger. It catches under the bright light, a simple band, but to me, it’s everything.
He didn't take it off after our argument. And now that I think about it, it’s stayed in place since the day we exchanged our vows.
The weight of that ring, of his ring, makes my heart ache. A reminder of the false commitment we made, of the life we’re tangled in, and how he’s the only person in this world who’s my anchor.
I place my hand over the top of his and squeeze, the gesture replacing the words I can’t seem to find.
In a beat, Kingston scoops me into his arms and starts walking. I let my face rest against his chest, not caring that I’m covered in blood anymore because in that moment, something shifts inside me.
The love I have for this man is real and the vows I made to him mean something to me now. The sight of his wedding ring, the symbol of what we are, what we’ve become, is enough to make my heart swell.
The ride up is quiet, the only sound between us the soft hum of the elevator as it rises to the penthouse.
At the top floor, the doors ping open and he carries me out and into the penthouse. Confident strides eat up the space until we reach the bedroom.
He sets me down on the bed, his fingers brushing through my hair in a quiet gesture of affection when I’m settled.
"I’ll be right back." His gaze meets mine. "Gonna run you a bath. Need me to help you out of those clothes first?"
I shake my head, too tired to speak. After Kingston prowls into the adjoining bathroom, I peel the blood-soaked clothes from my body, painfully aware of the fabric sticking to my skin.
Bone-tired, I collapse back onto the bed, the cool sheets greeting my naked skin. My body aches, bruised and sore from violence, but it’s nothing compared to the turmoil swirling inside my head.
But as I lie here, my eyes tracing the familiar edges of the penthouse ceiling, a little whisper moves through me.
Despite being kidnapped by the man I used to fuck and stabbing him in the chest—never mind the guilt of what I did—I know that this is home.
Because of Kingston.
He enters the room, his damp hair dark against his skin, a towel slung low around his hips. Without a word, he crosses the room and hauls me into his strong arms again.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says.
I don't protest as he carries me into the bathroom, the warm light of the room flickering against the water.
He bends over the tub and lowers me into it, the warm water wrapping around my sore limbs. When he lets go, I sink in deeper, sighing away the tension in my muscles.
He kneels beside the tub, his eyes focused on me with an intensity that makes my heart race.
"I’m so sorry." His voice is rough, low, almost a whisper as his hands begin to massage shampoo into my hair. "I’ll never make that mistake again, Livvie. Never."
He pauses, his breath catching, as if the words hurt to say them. “I shouldn’t have told you to leave. That was… unforgivable.”
His fingers massage my scalp, lathering my hair with a tenderness that should catch me off guard but doesn’t. This man has never physically hurt me.
I offer him a small smile. “And I shouldn’t have left.”
I reach for a washcloth, rubbing it over my face and hands, cleaning away the traces of Roman’s blood. As the water turns brown, guilt lingers and the knots in my chest tighten.
"My father raised me to never trust anyone, especially not the daughter of his enemy," he admits, rinsing my hair under the handheld showerhead. "I didn’t want to push you away. And now I realize that I should’ve fought harder to make you understand that I want you by my side."
He lets out a shaky breath, his hands still working through my hair.
"I’m a fucking idiot," he adds, his voice rough with regret. "You didn’t deserve to end up with a guy like me or be forced into anything. But I swear to you, I’ll never tell you to leave again. I’ll never push you away, Livvie, and I’ll never let you leave me."
He pulls the plug, and the water begins to drain away, a swirling whirlpool of dirty water.
"You believe me, right? You know I’m sorry?" he asks.
His fingers trace the edge of my jaw, and I nod, swallowing back the lump in my throat.
“I believe you,” I say, my voice quiet.
His shoulders seem to relax just a little, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“I want to be your husband, Livvie,” he says. "I’ve fallen in love with you and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it."
His confession leaves me exposed, naked in a way that goes beyond the physical. He’s given me his vulnerability, his regret, his heart, and if I wasn’t so torn up inside, I’d be giddy.
“I—I love you too. In fact, I fell first." I pause, my heart pounding in my chest. "But the Red Tribunal won’t leave us alone. They want you dead, Kingston. If I refuse to do it, they’ll kill my whole family… I won’t ever turn on ya…
I promise. But I can’t sit back and let them murder every O’Callaghan in Ireland. "
When the water is gone, Kingston offers me his hand, his narrowed gaze lingering on my fresh cuts and bruises.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice rough. “Even like this.”
I take his hand, letting him help me out of the tub. “Kingston… don’t change the subject.”
He wraps me in a soft towel and hauls me into his arms again, his strength effortless as he carries me back into the bedroom.
He lays me down and climbs onto the bed beside me.
"Leave it to me, Livvie. My brothers and I will handle things from here. I don’t want you involved in this shit anymore. I’ll make sure no one makes contact with you or threatens you again."
I let his words settle, absorbing the offer of safety he’s giving me. It should be enough, and for a brief moment, it is.
His warm body against mine and his breath steady in the quiet of the room give me peace.
But as I drift off to sleep, the shadows of the day loom, and I slip into a nightmare.
The darkness comes fast, too real, too vivid. The sounds of Roman’s gargled chokes echo in my mind, the lightness of a blade puncturing flesh… the blood… God, the blood everywhere.
And then it’s Kingston’s face, his complexion snow-white and spattered in red, his eyes dark and dead.
I wake up with a jolt, gasping for air, my body trembling as if the nightmare is still chasing me.
I turn, heart pounding, and see him beside me, sound asleep, unaware of the storm tearing through me.
While I steady my breathing and tell myself he’s very much alive, I stroke his arm, torn between the life I want with him and what’s necessary.
He’s offered me safety. He’s promised to protect me. But I know, deep down, that I’m not the only one who needs protecting.
And if I don’t make the hardest decision of my life, he’ll die.
So I climb out of bed, knowing what I have to do.