Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
K iera
I paced back and forth across the sleek hardwood floors of Ronan’s penthouse, my thoughts a tangled mess of fear and frustration. The usually calming view of the city skyline—sprawling and glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows—felt suffocating tonight, like it was mocking me with its indifference.
Leena was out there. Somewhere. And I didn’t know if she was scared, hurt, or worse.
My hands trembled as I tried to steady my breathing. Ronan’s men were out looking for her, and Ronan himself was off doing whatever it was he did—making calls, pulling strings, making sure the city bent to his will. But none of it felt like enough.
I couldn’t just sit here. Not anymore.
I stopped pacing and pressed my palms against the cool glass of the window, my forehead resting on the surface. The city buzzed with life below, oblivious to the chaos tearing me apart inside.
“She’s my best friend,” I whispered to myself, the words trembling on my lips. “I should be doing something.”
But what could I do? I wasn’t part of this world—not really. I didn’t know how to navigate its dangers, its alliances, its unspoken rules. And yet, the thought of sitting here, powerless, while Ronan and his men handled everything made me want to scream.
Leena would do it for me, I thought bitterly. She wouldn’t just wait around for answers. She’d fight tooth and nail to bring me home if it were me out there.
I clenched my fists, stepping back from the window.
No. I couldn’t just wait. I wouldn’t.
If this was the life I’d stepped into—if this was Ronan’s world—then it was time I learned how to navigate it. It was time I stopped hiding behind him and started standing beside him.
Whether he liked it or not.
My stomach twisted with nerves, but I shoved the feeling down, letting my resolve harden in its place. I wasn’t going to be the girl who sat on the sidelines anymore. Not when Leena needed me. Not when this was my fight as much as anyone else’s.
I crossed the room to grab my coat, the soft fabric sliding over my arms as I pulled it on. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath shallow, but I ignored the fear bubbling up inside me. There was no room for it. Not now.
Ronan might not like it. Hell, he might even try to stop me.
But he was going to take me seriously.
With one last glance at the penthouse—its polished perfection now feeling more like a cage—I stepped toward the door, my hand gripping the handle.
It was time to stop waiting.
Time to step into the fire.
And no one—not even Ronan O’Malley—was going to stop me.
I pulled the front door open and walked out.