Chapter 41
Rhys
The white glare of the lights in the X-ray room burns my skull, and my head won’t stop aching, if anyone fucking cares. And now my heart’s been ripped out of my chest watching Fallon run away in tears, hurt and angry from my betrayal.
I’m not restrained to this gurney, but I might as well be. Trace is planted at my right shoulder like a sentry, Connor on my left.
Griffin arrived with Shane an hour ago. And their eyes keep flicking toward me like I’m about to explode.
They’re not wrong.
Shane, who now has Jett working for him, is probably relaying the odd things I’ve done lately, like the Christmas tree I stole, and Connor is dishing about our interaction at the tattoo parlor.
Griffin got his own eye full on Fallon’s caroling night.
Only now do I see how I’ve been playing with fire.
And thought I could get away with it. Now I’ve ended up scalded and burned.
Griffin has his brother Ewan on the phone, who advises him on all matters now.
When the call ends, he holds the phone pressed against his thigh like he’s grounding himself.
My cousin, the leader of our clan and the one who signs the death warrants, looks carved from steel: jaw tight, blue eyes narrowed, and every part of him braced for a family conflict he never saw coming.
“All right,” Griffin says, voice low but steady. “Enough back-and-forth. Rhys, tell me what is going on. From your mouth.”
He’s been left in the dark from the start. And lucky me, I have to undo how everyone has twisted my story. How they painted Fallon as a medicated wreck. Dangerous.
I sit forward, ignoring the nausea that sloshes through me at the slightest motion.
“It started the night I iced a contract killer for Ares in my flat. We were supposed to do the job at his club, but he got away,” I say, keeping steady.
“Your brother-in-law tried to intercept him before he got to my building, but Ares got there too late.” I take a breath.
“Fallon was there. She saw the whole thing.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Griffin mutters, eyes fluttering closed for half a beat.
“It’s exposure, Griff,” Shane voices his concern. “This ambush tonight means Elias Black is watching us.”
“I can’t believe we are once again teetering on war,” Trace utters.
Raina returns just then, and I sit up. “Is she okay?”
Chin lifted, she says, “No. She’s not.”
Fuck…
“The Albanians are at your disposal, Griffin.” Raina, as the second in command to Valdrin Sokolov, her kyre father, stands battle-ready.
“I’ll call Lachlan,” Trace mentions his brother-in-law, the other infamous Irish enforcer from Astoria.
“Quiet,” Griffin snaps. “Everyone.”
Silence spreads through the room like napalm, deadening every voice. Shane actually steps back. Connor stiffens, nostrils flaring.
Griffin’s gaze pins me, sharp enough to make my chest ache. Like I’ve disappointed him somehow.
“She doesn’t want money,” I insist. “Or bribes. She wants…me.”
That makes her look crazy, and they stare because they don’t see me as any kind of prize.
“There’s only one way to protect us if she breaks down and says something to the wrong person,” Griffin says. “Rhys, you have to marry her.”
The words hit me harder than the baseball bat did earlier. “That’s not necessary—”
“It’s the only way to ensure our safety if she refuses to stay silent,” Griffin says.
“Rhys, he’s right,” Trace agrees, even though he looks like he’s having an aneurysm. “It’s also for her own protection. As your wife, dogs will think twice about biting her.”
“Griffin,” Cormac interjects. “If she’ll allow it, I can have her checked. Quietly. No reports. No flags.”
Something inside me detonates. I lunge off the gurney before my vision fully clears, shoving past Trace’s arm. My skull spikes white with pain, but I don’t care.
I’m in Cormac’s face before anyone can stop me. “Don’t you fucking go near her. She is not mentally incompetent!” The words rip out of me like claws.
Cormac blinks, caught off guard.
Shane and Trace haul me back before I put my fist through Cormac’s perfect teeth.
“She’s not broken,” I spit, straining against Shane’s grip. “No more than me. No more than any of you. She’s—”
Mine, I almost say. But maybe that’s not true anymore, especially if she refuses to forgive me for betraying her trust.
We dish about people’s secrets every day like it’s nothing. Our targets and their problems don’t mean anything. They are simply complications we need to be aware of to navigate around. I screwed up by placing Fallon in that sterile category.
I want to fight for her, but she might be changing all the locks, so I can never get inside her flat again. Or worse…lighting mine on fire.
I wrench out of Shane’s hold and stagger back a step, breathing hard. My ribs ache. My head pounds. My heart feels like it’s trying to tear its way out of my chest.
“I won’t force her into a marriage,” I say, lower now. “I won’t force her to take her pills. That will destroy her. Everything I love about her will be gone if I do that.”
Connor’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile, like he’s not really surprised I managed to find someone perfect for me the way he did. The way they all did.
“You think you can handle her episodes, cousin?” Shane asks, voice skeptical.
“I don’t think.” My voice cracks, just slightly. “I know. Not because I have to. I want to. And I already have. In fact, I love taking care of her. Calming her down. Watching the panic leave her. Being the person who can do that for her. Without meds.”
The room stills. Even the buzz of the overhead lights seems to go quiet. It’s the first time I’ve said something like that about a woman out loud.
“Everyone, calm the hell down,” Trace mutters, glancing at Raina. “Princess, what do you think?”
My eyes roll before I can stop them. “The woman who swallowed poison to kill her enemy is weighing in on the sanity of my girlfriend, who only cares about plants and cookies. Bloody fantastic.”
Raina tilts her head, the blonde braid sliding over her shoulder. “Poison, you helped me buy,” she adds ruefully.
Cormac cuts in, voice clipped, “Rhys, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I’m here to help.”
“It’s fine. I know you were just speaking from a medical standpoint. But I’ve heard enough.” My voice cracks through the tension. Every head swivels toward me. “At first, this was fake. But not anymore. I’m… I’m in love with her.”
“Christ,” Griffin mutters.
“Exactly. You know what that means. I watched each and every one of you dossers lose your feral minds over your women. You all know what I’m going through and that I will kill anyone who keeps her from me.
” I glance at each and every one of them.
“Now I have to get out of here because I promised to meet her father for Christmas. I’m keeping my promise. ”
“We still don’t know who he is,” Trace says.
“I will find out and report back. Whatever it is, I will handle that, too,” I hiss. “None of you is stopping me from keeping my word.”
And if I have to marry her, I will. Fallon will be mine. She’ll have my name. My family. She won’t be alone again.
Not ever.
Connor leans back, one brow raised. Shane studies me like he’s gauging how far I can be pushed before I snap. Trace smiles, I’m certain, because I’ve found someone. Griffin just watches me, wondering if I alone can tumble the empire he’s worked years to build and fortify.
After a long pause, Griffin gives a single, slow nod. “Fine. I trust you, Rhys. Now, Cormac, what does my assassin need to recover?”
“Here is a starter dose of painkillers,” Cormac presses an orange pill bottle into my palm. “And use the standard concussion protocol. Watch for dizziness, nausea, and light sensitivity. If any of it gets worse, call me. And good luck with Fallon and her family.”
His words land like gravel in my stomach.
Even if I didn’t code out from the blow to my head, there’s still the way Fallon looked at me tonight. Like I wasn’t the man she trusted. Like she couldn’t trust me.
Forget getting her to marry me, Fallon may never speak to me again.
The thought slams through me, hollow and black, heavier than the bat that cracked my skull tonight. Worse than any knife can slice out my heart.
No. Not happening.
I curl my fingers around the pill bottle, squeezing until the plastic creaks. This thing with Fallon isn’t over. Not even close.