Chapter 12
“Get the fuck off him.” The bellow quaked through the alley, enough that even the stones trembled.
The grip on me loosened, and the man standing in front of me stepped to the side.
A lone figure approached, but it was the only one needed to dispel a crowd.
Cillian Ashmore.
Mere minutes before, I’d been terrified to see him, but to my surprise, relief rushed through my veins. The hands restraining my wrists and shoulders retracted, and my knees trembled. I didn’t bother holding myself up, just sank to the ground. My knees thudded against the hard surface.
Cillian strode forward, each step deliberate and echoing through the space.
The sunlight glinted off his black horns and highlighted the deep reddish hue of his skin.
His hair was a mess, his suit and button-down mussed instead of pristine.
His golden eyes were wild with rage, but in this moment, his gaze wasn’t directed at me.
Cillian’s hands balled into fists as he approached, and the sheer danger he emanated was like witnessing a live bomb.
“We caught someone who evaded your security,” the bearded man said. “Thought you’d be grateful.”
He bared those long and wicked fangs, and a literal growl rolled through the space. “Thorin. What are you doing here?”
“Just wandering by,” Thorin responded. “No need to be so hostile when we’re simply trying to help.”
Oh fuck. That was where I recognized him from. After all the running, the capture, and whatever was to come, I didn’t have the bandwidth to process the magnitude of this man’s relevance.
“And Chadwick, what are you doing with him?” Cillian asked, his voice crashing down like thunder.
Chadwick—from the meetings.
“We were walking through town and happened to see your personal assistant on the run,” he said, a tremble in his voice he couldn’t quite mask. “We figured we were doing you a favor.”
“And Henrik,” Cillian growled. One of the men who’d grabbed me—middle-aged—straightened up, his lips thin.
Cillian stared them down, and by his lack of response, he clearly didn’t believe them for a second.
I opened my mouth but it was dry, the words withered up.
What I could even say was beyond me, as I was guaranteed to face punishment after my escape.
Now that he’d caught me, what would he do? Send me to the Pits?
At this point, even that sounded better than going with Thorin.
The cruelty in the man’s voice wouldn’t leave me any time soon, and I’d seen enough of bullies and beasts to recognize the difference.
Cillian was wild, mercurial, but not malicious—a beast. Thorin—he was cruel, like the bullies who used to gang up on me in school. My limbs trembled.
“Thorin, Henrik, have you forgotten you’re not welcome on my premises?” Cillian said, his voice simmering. “Chadwick, our associations are now dissolved as well.”
“But—” Chadwick started then stopped.
The look in Cillian’s eyes was deadly. He loomed over all five of these men, casting a long-reaching shadow. “Get away from him, and get off my property,” he intoned, the threat in his voice not hidden.
For a moment, silence reigned, the tension growing in the air like a bomb about to drop. I didn’t move from my spot, unsure which way the pendulum would swing.
“Come on,” Thorin said. “Let’s leave Cillian to being alone and miserable.”
A few mutters sounded, but Thorin led the way as the group departed, the shuffles and scrapes of their feet on the pavement resounding through the alley. Relief saturated me at their departure.
As much as Cillian had kept me locked away in the Spires, at the end of the day, I’d chosen to take my father’s place. He just enforced the bargain I’d made. Guilt tangled with the anger and fear that roiled inside me.
And I’d broken into his chambers, rifled through his secrets.
He stared at the retreating men, arms crossed, not budging an inch or saying a word, as if waiting until he was sure they’d vanished.
His focus wasn’t on me, thank fuck. I sucked in a long slow breath and pushed myself to stand.
My body felt like it’d been tossed in a washing machine and spat out.
My legs barely kept me upright, my shins throbbing.
Cillian’s gaze swept my way, pinning me in place. “And you.”
I gulped hard. Was I sorry? I still wasn’t sure. I’d been so desperate for freedom that it’d pushed me to action, and I’d seized the opportunity. However, I could admit one truth. “Thank you.”
Because if he hadn’t intervened, the situation would’ve been a lot worse.
He stared at me for a moment, those full lips pursed.
The sunlight brought out aspects of him the shadows couldn’t—the richness of those golden eyes, the subtle weariness there as well.
His presence alone was a forbidding, intense thing, but after the way he’d come to my defense, I experienced something new.
Safety.
He’d come in and saved me when he didn’t have to. I’d run away, and he could’ve cast me off to the wolves. Instead, he’d rushed to my defense.
Granted, he still might eviscerate me, but in that moment, I stole the seconds of calm while I had them.
“Let’s go,” he said, tilting his head toward the steps. “Time to head back.”
A mere hour ago, all I’d been able to think about was escape, but when he said those words, further relief rushed through me.
Because I’d been unprepared for the level of danger I was in from the rest of the world now I was associated with Cillain Ashmore.
Maybe the precautions to keep me in the Spires hadn’t just been about my captivity.
Maybe it had been to keep me safe.
The newfound understanding rippled through me, rocking me to my core.
I trailed up the steps after him, forcing my pace to quicken even though my body protested.
He didn’t look back, just expected me to follow, but I didn’t want to remain in this alley in case Thorin and the others returned—I didn’t trust that they’d be obedient.
The moment I stepped inside, the air that had stifled me before my escape caressed like a reassurance.
Shame flushed through me. Would I have to face Charles and Theo?
Amelia? And they’d know I tried to make a run for it.
Or maybe he was leading me inside to negotiate sending me to the Pits.
We walked the halls I’d run through mere moments before, as if nothing had happened.
My breathing calmed, even though the crash of adrenaline brought aches and pains, and my legs trembled like they were about to fall off.
How I’d run as fast and far as I had was mind-blowing, considering I’d never been at the pinnacle of athleticism.
Cillian, of course, looked rumpled, but he breathed evenly and walked steadily, like he hadn’t just chased me through the entire casino. Bastard.
Sweat cooled on my skin like paste, and I was dying to scrub it off. However, I was about to face whatever fate lay in store for me. Not only had I disobeyed his direct order to stay out of the West Wing, but I’d tried to escape.
We reached the elevator, and he swiped his card and pressed his print on the pad before he pushed the button for the upper floors.
The elevator whooshed up. I leaned against the wall, hoping it’d keep me upright.
Fuck. So much had happened since this morning that my mind spun. It felt like a lifetime ago.
The silence stretched between us, reminding me of the first time I’d gotten into this elevator—except back then Amelia had been there as well.
I had no idea then how much my life would change.
Cillian leaned on the opposite side of the elevator, his arms crossed and his gaze veering toward me every few minutes.
“What happened?” he asked at last, breaking through the quiet.
I swallowed hard. “I thought…well, I didn’t think after you discovered me there I’d still be standing. So I ran. When I made it outside, they found me.”
“Thorin doesn’t just appear,” Cillian said, a hint of accusation lurking in his voice.
“I know I’m not making a case as being trustworthy right now, but that’s the truth. I’d never seen the man before in my life.”
“Hmm.” The rumble sent a vibration through the air, and I shivered. For as terrifying as Cillian had been, he hadn’t scared me in the same way Thorin had.
I tipped my head back and looked at the top of the elevator. No matter what case I pled, I wouldn’t appear anything but guilty. Not after I’d broken into the West Wing and tried to escape the Spires.
The elevator let out a ding, and the doors opened.
The hallways were familiar, ones I’d roamed plenty of times at this point.
We weren’t far from the kitchen and dining hall.
I followed Cillian, not saying a word. What could I even offer?
When we reached the open door to the dining hall, he stopped and strode in.
No one else was in there to witness my shame, thankfully.
Cillian chose one of the nearest tables and sat. I followed suit, the hushed quiet settling over me. The second my ass hit the seat, I almost sobbed in relief. After what I’d put my body through today, I’d be feeling the soreness for a while. My muscles still slightly trembled.
“Why?” he asked. His golden gaze bored into me, as though he’d know if I tried to lie.
I swallowed hard. The truth dwelled deep within me, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to unleash it. However, this was the chance to explain myself, for better or for worse. “I’m not free.”
He settled in his seat, scanning me over. “And going to the West Wing?”
“I hoped I’d find answers there,” I said, shocked my voice remained steady. My throat was bone dry, and when I swallowed, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I would kill for water. “I’ve been in the dark from the moment I stepped foot in here.”
“And what illumination did you find?” he asked.
My shoulders tensed. His calmness unsettled me. I’d been prepared for him to roar at me, to call security to drag me to the Pits. Instead, we were having a direct conversation. And I was as sure of his aim now as I had been when I’d first arrived here.
“Truthfully, very little. I saw the massive computer screen you have tucked away in there, and some old books, but I barely explored. Thorin…that’s your rival, right? He owns the other casino?”
Cillian’s expression darkened. “Thorin Glass is one of the most despicable people in the entirety of Westia.”
“I caught as much,” I said, a shiver rolling through me. “Thank you again.”
“He views you as mine,” Cillian said, his voice low and husky. “Therefore, he will stop at nothing to obtain you.”
The way he’d said “mine” curled around me and squeezed tight.
While Cillian meant it to mean a possession, the rasp in his tone held a fierceness that…
I didn’t hate. After experiencing his protection out there, how he’d swept to my defense and scared away Thorin and his cronies, I couldn’t help but see him a bit differently.
All the wildness about him was terrifying, but directed in my defense? My pulse raced in a way it hadn’t for quite a long time.
The quiet settled between us again, but one question burned stronger than anything else.
“So, what now?”
Cillian arched an eyebrow. “Now you get some rest, because you’ll be up early tomorrow. We’ve got a long day of meetings.”
Wait, what?
“But what about repercussions?” I asked, regretting the moment the words left me. Why had I mentioned anything?
A slight smirk lifted his lips. “Seems to me you’re wanting punishment.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I shifted in the seat and glanced away. “Just needed to clarify.”
“Mm,” Cillian responded, rising from his seat. “Are you planning on running away again?”
After what I’d encountered out there, knowing Thorin and others might have a vendetta against me, I’d come to a decision on that as well. Like it or not, my life had changed completely the day I stepped into the Spires, when I’d agreed to take my father’s place.
“No,” I said. “I’m not.”
Cillian skimmed his claws along the surface of the table before meeting my eyes, a light scratching noise echoing there. “Good.”
With that, he turned and walked out of the room.
I sagged in the seat, the weight of everything that had happened today crashing over me.
My feet became cement blocks, my mind slowing to a crawl in the wake of everything I’d been bombarded with.
My whole body ached, and the first thing I needed to do when I got up was grab some water, but for a moment, I just stayed here at the table.
My perception had been tossed on its head today.
When I’d come here, I’d been sure Cillian Ashmore was pure evil—that the CEO of the Spires was every whispered rumor I’d read.
However, the experience of witnessing him today in contrast to Thorin allowed me to peer behind the veil.
Cillian held multitudes behind the curt responses, the glowers, and the snarls.
Somehow, in some way, he’d managed to spark my curiosity.
And that was a deadly thing.