Eris
Kieran lingers at the edge of the living room after the others filter out, and I’m not shocked. I can see the gears turning in his mind. They’re all intelligent, but I’ve gathered he’s got a way with words.
Silas disappeared down the hallway, needing distance to think about the threats we’re facing. Jace is taking his second round of anger out on the gym equipment. The rhythmic thud of fists against a heavy bag echoes through the loft like a warning pulse.
But Kieran stays.
He leans against the desk below their wall of monitors, studying me like I’m a problem he hasn’t decided if he can solve. His posture is loose, but his arms are crossed, and his gaze feels like a brand against my skin.
“You don’t scare easily,” he says, like he’s finally piecing me together.
I take a sip from my bottle of water and frown at him. “Is that your question?”
“No.” The corner of his lips lift into a smirk. “That’s my observation.”
“And what do you want to know?” I return, raising a challenging brow. “Why I don’t scare? What frightens me?”
He watches me for a long beat. “Why are you so confident?”
“In what?”
“All of this.” He gestures around us, though I’m sure he doesn’t mean the loft. “Do you ever pause to feel fear?”
“Not really. This is Crimson Bay,” I say softly, almost like a lullaby.
“People go missing here all the time. The gardenias are always speckled red. Doesn’t matter if it’s a domestic squabble or a cartel hit.
The soil knows the taste of blood and fear.
This place doesn’t care what you’re feeling; if you pause, it will eat you alive. ”
Kieran doesn’t interrupt, though I can see he wants to. He tucks his hands into his pockets, intent on listening. I hear the scrape of a shoe in the hallway, a single step breaking up the silence of my statement.
“I grew up here,” I continue, removing the blanket from my legs as I sit up straight on the couch and place the laptop beside me.
“And Callie St. James? She’s old money with a voice that’s too loud to stay safe in the Bay.
Her family has no roots in this soil. No dirt under her nails.
She’s got power somewhere, sure. Maybe her family owns some stock in the city.
But unless they’ve got missiles or a private army, they don’t scare me. ”
Kieran says nothing, though his eyes flick from one spot to another, giving away the guys’ positions. His attention sharpens, as if he’s locked onto a frequency he can finally decipher.
I take a deep breath and feel my decision settle in my bones. This story time is the right moment for a confession.
Fingers crossed they take it well.
“I work for Crimson Bay royalty,” I reveal, frowning at the dry taste of my admission.
“I do discrete jobs. Sometimes security. But mostly, I’m the person who brings quiet solutions to the table.
My name doesn’t show up on paperwork anywhere in the world.
I maintain systems that, under normal circumstances, keep me invisible.
And I protect people who only get cartel protection because they’re valuable. ”
I lift my hand up, bending my ring finger while leaving my middle finger extended. The tiny M inked there is easy to miss if you’re not really looking and casual enough to pass as an ex-boyfriend’s initial if it’s seen. But it’s stark against my pale skin at this moment.
Kieran inhales sharply, though he doesn’t comment.
“Oh, fuck.” Silas’s voice cuts through the tension. “That’s what I think it is, isn’t it?”
Jace whistles, but it’s not an amused sound. He’s standing in the hallway entrance with Silas, sweat slicking his skin, a towel tossed around his neck.
“You’re marked,” Kieran acknowledges, as if he needs to say it aloud.
“I told you.” I lower my hand and shrug. “I have no reason to be scared.”
Jace comes into the room, standing in front of me and taking my hand to examine my finger. “You work for the Maldonado Cartel.”
“Worked,” I correct politely, watching him rub at my tattoo like it might disappear. “My boss was kind enough to give me some time off to sort my collection of stalkers.”
Silas chuckles, a disbelieving kind of sound. And Kieran drops into the computer chair at the desk as if his legs can’t hold him up any longer.
Jace’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Why?”
“She said stalkers are… complicated,” I reply with a smile. “I think that’s the word she used. But she offered her services, which is generous.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he tells me, letting go of my hand.
“I kill people to protect other people. You can’t really do that with a stalker.”
They stare at me, and I roll my eyes.
“A Maldonado once saved more than mine and my best friend’s lives; she saved our bodies and minds too. We promised all we had to her that night and never looked back. And that’s all I will ever share about why I made the decision I made.”
Silas steps fully into the room, expression controlled but lethal. He knows enough about Crimson Bay to fill in the blanks and name the person I owe my life. I doubt he’ll say it, though. Some of the locals talk about her name as if she’s Bloody Mary and the world is a mirror.
“We’re not letting you walk away from the rest of this conversation,” he informs me.
I nod my agreement. “I wasn’t planning to. Just stating that there are some things I’m unwilling to explain. There are also some things I simply can’t explain. I’ve already said too much about it.”
None of them run screaming from the room, so I take that as a good sign. I really like them, and I find myself hoping like hell they accept what I’ve said so I can keep them.
I know I’m fucked for them and can no longer pull the trigger.
Roo will have to do it for me if it comes to that.
Jace sighs in aggravation as he holds his phone up. “She sent a time. Callie wants her meeting tonight at eight.”
I turn slowly and extend my hand to Silas, palm up. “I’ll need my gun back now.”
“Are you sure you want to come with us?” Kieran studies my expression. “She’s not really your problem.”
“How often do you walk around the Bay without a gun?” I ask, not even trying to hide how horrifying that is. “Have you been outside?”
“Just this morning,” he deadpans. “Without a weapon.”
“I’m not going to shoot her.” I smile soft and pleasant, hopefully not like I’m giddy about a maybe murder. “Not unless she gives me a reason.”
Jace huffs quietly beside me, something like grim approval in the sound. “What’s a good reason?”
“Pretty sure she already qualifies,” Silas mutters from the kitchen.
“Breathing.” I tilt my head and pat Jace’s arm. “It’s okay. I won’t miss.”