Chapter 27
When I woke up in the morning, the bed was empty.
Cillian was nowhere to be found.
My chest caved in. He’d made himself scarce so he didn’t have to face the goodbye, and I couldn’t blame him.
If I tried, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk away either.
However, I also wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t attempt to find my father.
His messages were all that had kept me afloat during my early days here, and fuck… I just needed to know he was okay.
I pulled on my clothes from yesterday and slipped on my shoes.
All the movements made a little of his cum leak out of me, and it dripped down the inside of my thigh.
His scent lingered in the room, the brimstone and deep plum I craved.
I made it to the doorframe but paused there.
His bed was rumpled, from us. After his knot had deflated, he still hadn’t pulled out, but he’d held me the entire night, his grip a little tighter than normal.
My heart ached, a visceral thing in my chest. I’d never experienced this sense of longing before, and I knew deep down, I’d never find a connection like this again.
“I’m coming back.” I whispered the promise, the reminder.
Then I stepped out into the hall.
It was quieter today, filled with an emptiness that hadn’t been there before as I strode in the direction of my room.
The idea that I was headed out into the world again made my skin crawl, like a nakedness I had grown unaccustomed to in Cillian’s presence.
This was what I’d initially fought for, and the irony hadn’t escaped me that now, when I was finally granted my freedom, I no longer wanted it.
I walked into my room and got changed into something simple—sweats, a T-shirt.
Not like I could go to my old apartment either.
I’d been evicted from there. My belongings, my life was here now, and the reality settled me a little bit.
I snapped on a bracelet, a few rings, slipped my phone and my wallet into my pockets, but my skin still crawled at the idea of heading out into the world now after so long in this safe haven.
A cough sounded from the doorway. Amelia leaned there, and the lines on her face were deeper, a grim expression.
“I was told I’m to escort you out today?”
I ran fingers through my hair. “I’m coming back. I promise. My father’s in trouble, and I’m…I’m all he has.”
“Haven’t you done enough for him?” she asked, her tone sharp. Her judgement was clear, and my shoulders tightened.
I heaved out a breath. “I was supposed to be here for a ten-year sentence, and then what? Released out into the world? My father’s the only person I have out there.”
Amelia’s gaze softened. “Cillian’s a fool to let you go. I…” She let out a low curse. “I was hoping you’d be the one.”
I swallowed hard, not quite able to discern her meaning.
“Come on,” she said, tilting her head toward the hallway. “Let’s set you free, Beau Taylor.”
My chest squeezed tight as I headed for the doorway.
When we began our trek down the hall, my footsteps echoed louder, and each one fell heavier. The thread connecting Cillian and me grew tighter and tighter until I feared it would snap. When I stepped out of the Spires, would he forget me?
Amelia entered the elevator first, and I followed. The ride down held an ominous silence that was reminiscent of my first ride up here, so different from the casual conversation we normally engaged in, and my heart ached.
“Is there any way I can convince you to stay?” Amelia asked, a note of urgency in her tone.
“I’m coming back,” I promised again. Maybe if I said the words enough, they’d become binding, a message out to the universe.
Amelia’s silence was an answer, a darkness in her expression that twisted my insides.
The elevator settled on the ground floor, and with a ding, the doors opened.
We stepped out, and the sense of violation, of something wrong, rippled through me all over again.
As if leaving here today would end in ruin and despair.
Fear bubbled up inside me, turning my limbs leaden as we strode through the opulent casino floor, heading in the direction of the door I’d first come through.
The symmetry of the moment wasn’t lost on me, and it felt far too much like an ending.
We stopped at one of the many doors lining the front, and Amelia grabbed my hand.
“Beau, give me your phone. I’m putting my number in it.
” I handed it over, and she quickly typed it in and set it to call to confirm, her phone jangling in response before she shut it off.
Then Amelia passed my phone back. “If you need help, call me. Don’t hesitate.
Even if you decide you don’t want to return here, the offer still stands. ”
I shook my head, my eyes stinging again. I’d never made friendships like these before, people who’d stand by me during tough times. “Thank you.”
“Charles is going to be mad you didn’t say goodbye,” she said with a half smile.
“I’m not saying goodbye because I’m not leaving for good,” I said. “You act like I’m going to vanish, when who knows? I could be back here tonight.”
Amelia’s eyes downturned, a sadness in them that made me uneasy. “If only life worked that way. Stay safe, okay?” She patted me on the shoulder, turned on her heel, and with that, she marched off.
Leaving me to exit the way I’d arrived—by myself.
I stepped out of the Spires, but unlike the last time when I went to the city with Cillian, now I felt exposed. A sense of wrongness mounted within me as I strode down the sidewalk, a free man. Except, now that I was free to choose, all I wanted to do was return.
I’d fallen completely and utterly in love with Cillian, and I needed to tell him.
I would tell him.
The Casino District looked so different in the daytime, not the seedy underbelly of the city that it transformed into at night with stumbling passersby and flashing neons.
However, my back prickled as I walked in the direction of the subway.
I wouldn’t be taking it to my apartment, though.
No, I’d head straight to my father’s. The pit in my stomach grew and not because I hadn’t eaten. I couldn’t stomach food if I tried.
I glanced at the Spires, how the majestic building carved a stark mark on the skyline. How it’d carved a permanent mark on my heart. I pressed my fingers to the bruised bite mark Cillian had left on my shoulder last night, the ache there mirroring the one in my chest.
Walking out here amid the public made me feel invisible, as if I were just a specter floating through.
Yet at any point, if Thorin’s men pinpointed my location, I could be in trouble.
Cillian had said he’d handle Thorin, but the awareness was imprinted in my bones now after witnessing firsthand the sort of danger that existed from being in his crosshairs.
I patted my pockets, as if a weapon would magically burst free. But I was no witch, no monster. I had no abilities to protect myself if Thorin decided to deploy his men. Just Amelia’s number.
I quickened my steps toward the subway and stepped down the stairway to join the others waiting on the station’s platform. The lights flickered, a contrast to the overly cheery sunshine up above. It felt more fitting to my mood now.
The subway train screeched to a halt in front of us, all metal and chaos, and I sucked in a sharp breath and stepped aboard.
The pervasive sense of wrongness clung to me like plastic wrap, and I couldn’t seem to detach from it, as if I was leaving everything good in my life behind.
The subway creaked and swayed as it set off deeper into the city, and my heart matched the same unsteadiness.
Loyalty was a foundational piece of my being.
If someone couldn’t stand up for you when it mattered, they weren’t worth keeping around.
And my father had stood up for me my entire life.
Stepping in at school when I’d been bullied, supporting me all through my childhood, and even moving us to the city so I could pursue becoming a librarian like I’d always dreamed.
Even after I’d gone to the Spires, he’d checked in with me regularly—called me, emailed me.
He’d been trying to find a way to free me.
I needed to find him.
The station closest to my father’s apartment flashed into view on the overhead screen, and I made my way to the exit. The subway screeched to a halt, the doors opened, and I stepped off.
I jostled with a few elbows upon exiting, mingling with strangers an unfamiliar feeling at this point after my freedom and space in the Spires. Many would have hated the seclusion, but I’d loved it, as I’d had more companionship than I’d ever experienced out here in the city.
The air smelled like exhaust as I stepped onto the platform and headed up the steps, back into the searing sunlight.
I squinted, trying to let my eyes adjust as I walked onto the crowded sidewalk, dozens of buildings looming in every direction.
Around here, they were a little more rundown, but this was an active part of the city, even if it didn’t have as much glitz and glamour as other sections.
I scratched at my light jacket, wishing I’d brought a messenger bag or something.
The visceral feeling, like I was exposed, hadn’t left since I’d walked out of the Spires.
I glanced behind me, but none of the passersby seemed to pay me any mind.
No one lurking around any of the buildings or peering out at me from windows either.
My father’s apartment building lay at the end of the block, a tall, teetering one crammed with tenants on every floor.
I’d spent plenty of time over here for dinner and a chat, something we’d tried to arrange regularly.
The familiar sight of the chipped concrete steps and the twisted black railing quieted something inside me, knowing that at least everything hadn’t entirely flipped on its head in the months away from my old life.
Except I didn’t know what I’d find when I entered, and the thump, thump, thump of my heart grew so loud it drowned out the honks and the thrum of engines from the streets.
I strode up the steps and used my key to enter the building, which felt foreign at this point.
A quiet filtered through the place, probably because most of the tenants would be out at work.
Sweat broke out on my palms as I ascended to the second floor, a trek I’d made often.
They still hadn’t repaired the dent in the wall or the flickering overhead light.
When I stepped in front of my father’s apartment, I rested my hand on the doorknob. Would it be locked or open? Would he be waiting inside, or would I have to start my search for him all over again?
This time, he wouldn’t be held at the Spires, but we were overdue for the discussion of why he’d been there in the first place.
I was ready for the truth, whatever it ended up being.
I turned the knob and was able to push the door open. Unlocked. It creaked, announcing my entrance, and I peered inside. The living area didn’t appear abandoned—no film of dust coating everything. My father had never been neat, and his normal stacks of books were piled high on the coffee table.
A thump came from the kitchen, and I stepped into view. “Dad, are you there?”
He sat at the kitchen table, hunched over, and papers were scattered over the table’s surface in a messy array. His skin had taken on a pallor as though he was ill, his curls were in disarray, and the hand holding his mug trembled. Yet he was still my dad. He was still alive.
The relief bubbled up my throat, not quite released into the world yet.
“What’s going on?” I asked, glancing around the room, as if it would offer me some idea of why he’d sent the message. Of what had happened. He wouldn’t look up at me, just continued to stare at the liquid in his mug. His ragged breaths indicated he was alive, but his lack of response unnerved me.
My senses were screaming.
What was going on?
Self-preservation kicked in, and I reached into my pocket for my phone.
I quickly swiped the screen and hit the call button to dial the last call it had made—to Amelia.
The slightly tinny sound of the phone call picking up registered, but before I could respond, Dad looked up at me.
The expression on his face aged him fifty years.
His eyes were red-rimmed, the lines on his face haggard.
“Beau, I’m so sorry.”
My stomach dropped. The look in his eyes, the sense of unease, all of it clicked into place.
His bedroom door opened at the far end of the apartment, and the last person I wanted to see stepped in.
Thorin Glass.