9. CHAPTER 9
CILLIAN
The east reading gallery door clicked shut behind Moon. I stepped after him, then stopped. Blood hammering. Cock half-hard and aching against my zipper.
Not just because of the kiss, though fuck, that kiss still burned on my tongue. It was the panic that ripped across his face the second Korolev’s footsteps hit. Pure fucking terror. Not of me. Of being seen with me.
I raked a hand through my hair.
They’d drilled that poison into him since birth. And he still kissed me back. I felt him hard against me. He wanted this. Wanted me.
So I’d keep pushing until he stopped running.
He never pushed me away until the footsteps came. Then panic. Right after he dragged me in and kissed me like he’d die if he didn’t.
Moon Hyun-seo kissed me back.
I didn’t think it. I knew it.
Every instinct screamed to follow him right now. I took another step, then stopped. He’d hate me for it. Too fucking controlled for the likes of me. But I still wanted to.
My phone buzzed.
LESS FUN TWIN:
I’d like to talk to you.
I snorted. Fucking perfect. Aleksei. Just what I needed, a Lovchy lecture while I was still hard and buzzing with adrenaline.
I typed back.
Meet you in the courts in twenty.
I shoved the phone in my pocket and rubbed both hands over my face, hard, trying to scrape the want out. Didn’t fucking work.
I left the gallery before I gave in and hunted him down. ‘Stay away from me’ didn’t mean shit when his body had begged for the opposite.
Halfway down the corridor my hand slipped into my pocket. I pulled his stupid penguin keychain from my pocket and spun it on my finger.
His.
Stolen fair and square.
I closed my fingers around it hard enough to feel the edges bite and kept walking. Patience, they call it. I call it bullshit. Fine. I could wait. For now.
I headed downstairs. The strategy room waited—dark stone, red banners, weapons on the walls like decoration. I dropped into the chair at the head of the table, boots up, and poured whiskey I had zero plans of drinking.
My body still hadn’t gotten the message. Still thinking about Moon’s thighs clamped around me and that perfect little twitch against my leg.
Annoying as hell.
Somewhere on campus, Moon was probably trying to pretend he hadn’t almost come apart with a cartoon penguin digging into his ribs. I smiled into the untouched glass.
The door opened. Aleksei walked in first. Misha followed, unusually quiet. I kept my boots on the table.
“Five Favor,” Aleksei said, no greeting. “Gone in one afternoon.”
I tilted my head. “I can do worse.”
Misha sank into the chair across from me. “I had money on double digits.”
Aleksei didn’t smile. “The Writ needs to move. Before the Ivory bout.”
I took a slow sip of whiskey. “Define move.”
“Moon loses composure. Aster notices. The Seat becomes negotiable.”
Misha whistled low. “Subtle.”
“Subtle stopped working,” Aleksei said flatly. He slid a thin folder across the table. “Use the timing. Use Whitlock. Use whatever you must. Just make it public.” Aleksei poured himself a glass of whiskey. “You’re gathering intelligence,” he said, tone dry. “How’s that going?”
“It’s going.”
Misha leaned forward, grinning. “Translation: he’s been too busy eye-fucking the target to pull the trigger.”
I shot him a look. Misha only shrugged, unrepentant.
Aleksei’s gaze stayed on me, assessing. “The longer this drags, the more unpredictable it becomes. Aster doesn’t like unpredictable. Neither do I.”
I set the glass down. “I’ll handle it.”
“Handle it faster,” Aleksei said. “Or I will.” He turned and left.
Misha waited until the door clicked shut before letting out a low whistle. “Damn. He’s in a mood.”
The door stayed shut. My jaw tightened.
Misha watched me, then said, more quietly than usual, “You know he’s right. The longer you play with Moon, the more likely someone else decides to play with him instead.”
I didn’t answer.
Misha stood, stretching. “Just saying. If you’re going to be stupid about this, be smart about how stupid you are.”
I stayed seated. The door opened again. Aleksei walked back in carrying a second folder.
“I didn’t want to do this.” Aleksei dropped the thin file in front of me. No explanation. Just the quiet sound of paper hitting wood.
I lowered my chin.
“Open it,” Aleksei said.
I did.
HANSEONG-KNIGHTSbrIDGE CANDIDATE RETREAT SEALED INCIDENT SUMMARY SEAMUS CARRICK—DECEASED
My eyes locked on the name.
Misha exhaled sharply. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
I looked up at Aleksei. “What the hell is this?”
“The reason Moon is at Evermourne,” Aleksei answered. “Before Aster chose him, there were other candidates. Seamus Carrick was one of them.”
Misha leaned forward. “Declan’s Carrick?”
“Brother,” Aleksei confirmed. “The one Carrick Maritime tried to polish into respectability before he became a liability.”
I flipped the page.
Official cause: accidental drowning. Last confirmed sighting: Moon Hyun-seo and Sawyer Whitlock. Security footage unavailable: 23:11–23:19. Witness statements sealed by family request.
Moon’s name sat right beside a dead boy. I closed the folder slowly.
Aleksei watched me. “If you keep treating the Blood Writ like a courtship ritual, I’ll give this to Declan Carrick and let him handle it himself.”
Misha’s chair scraped. “Lesha—”
“No.” His gaze remained fixed on me. “A Blood Writ is not decoration. It is not courtship. It is not a toy for you to play with. You accepted it under Thorn’s name. Collect cleanly. Or become the next name crossed off.”
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
Aleksei continued. “If Thorn fails this Writ, we lose real Favor. The kind that doesn’t come back just because Cillian Ashbourne got his dick twisted over Aster’s prince.”
I stood. The chair scraped back. Misha moved, but I was already walking around the table. I grabbed the front of his jacket and slammed him back against the table hard enough to make the wood groan.
Misha swore and stepped between us. “Cillian.”
“Stay out of it.”
Aleksei kept his hands at his sides, voice steady. “You are proving my point.”
“No.” I leaned in closer, voice low. “I’m making mine.”
My grip twisted tighter in his jacket.
“If Declan so much as looks at him wrong,” I said quietly, “I’ll put him in the harbor with the rest of the trash. If you give him that file, I’ll touch you. No one else gets to touch Moon.”
Aleksei looked at my fist in his jacket, then back at my face.
“That sounded territorial.”
“It was.”
Misha stepped closer, voice tight. “Lesha. Don’t give it to Declan.”
Aleksei’s eyes never left mine. “No.”
“We can get the points back another way.”
“Can we?” Aleksei kept going, calm and unrelenting. “Moon needs to go.”
Something in me snapped.
Misha moved.
My fist crashed into Aleksei’s mouth. The impact was ugly, a wet crack of knuckles against teeth. His head snapped sideways, blood spraying.
Aleksei didn’t fall. He swung back hard. Misha stepped between us at the exact wrong second. His fist clipped his brother’s jaw instead. The sound was sickening.
Misha staggered one step, hand flying to his face. Blood already welled at the corner of his mouth.
Both Aleksei and I froze.
Misha touched the split on his lip, looked at the blood on his fingers, then exhaled through his nose.
“Leave, Cil,” he said quietly. No anger. Just exhaustion. “Now.”
I stared at Misha’s split lip, the damage I’d caused indirectly.
Aleksei’s too. Hurting Misha felt wrong in a way nothing else did.
The fight drained out of me. I stepped back slowly, jaw tight, breathing through my teeth.
Aleksei wiped his own bleeding mouth with the back of his hand, eyes locked on his twin for a long second.
Misha didn’t look at either of us.
“Both of you,” he said. “Enough.”
I grabbed the folder off the table without another word and walked out. The door shut behind me. The folder dug into my ribs like a loaded gun. Seamus Carrick. Sawyer Whitlock. Moon Hyun-seo.
Dead boy.
Living witness.
Minefield.
No one gets to use Moon’s past against him. Not Declan. Not Aleksei. Not fucking anyone. Nobody was turning him into collateral.
I kept walking. The corridor outside Thorn went quiet behind me. Too fucking quiet. I hated the silence after violence. It always gave the rot room to breathe.
Moon knew exactly what I was. And he still kissed me back. Still wanted me. Fuck. He chose me. That fucked with my head.
I pulled out my phone and texted Keira, thumbs still unsteady.
Flowers were a miss. Sent them back. He’s too proud, too obsessed with optics. Kissed me but still freaked when we almost got caught. Don’t know how to get him out of his own head. Advice?
Sent.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket. I kept the folder tucked under my arm the whole way back, one hand pressed on it like someone might step out of the fucking wall and try to take it.
Ridiculous or reasonable. Maybe both.
By the time I shut my door, my knuckles had started to ache. Aleksei’s blood had dried along two of them in a thin brown line. I looked at it. Smiled. Then stopped. Annoying.
The room smelled of whiskey and cold air from the half-open window. Jacket still over the chair. Knife under the book stack. Korean primer open beside the lamp, one page folded down.
Beginner Korean: Practical Phrases for Travel and Conversation. Beside it sat my notes. Messy. Mostly words I wanted to say while I fucked him.
Jal-haess-eo-yo.
You did well.
I stared at the phrase. Then I pulled Moon’s penguin keychain and set it beside the book. What the hell is this? Should I even ask him? I dragged the folder open.
HANSEONG–KNIGHTSbrIDGE CANDIDATE RETREAT SEALED INCIDENT SUMMARY SUBJECT: SEAMUS CARRICK—DECEASED STATUS: CLOSED BY FAMILY REQUEST / EXTERNAL REVIEW WAIVED
Official cause: accidental drowning. Location: north dock, retreat grounds. Last confirmed sighting: Seamus Carrick with Moon Hyun-seo and Sawyer Whitlock. Security footage unavailable: 23:11–23:19.
Medical examiner notes: water in lungs, bruising on wrist and upper arm, elevated blood alcohol. Witness statements: partially redacted. Carrick Maritime: internal sealing requested.
Handwritten in the margin: ASK WHITLOCK.
I read it twice. Then I leaned back, jaw locked, and slammed the folder shut. No fucking way. Moon didn’t kill Declan’s brother. Whitlock? Yeah, that cold bastard probably could. But Moon’s just caught in the crossfire.
I need to be careful. Declan wouldn’t need the full truth. He’d only need Moon’s name next to a dead brother and nine missing minutes of footage.
I slid the folder under the mattress, shoving it deep until it disappeared from sight. Not because hiding it there was clever. Because leaving Moon’s name beside a dead boy’s file on my desk made my skin itch.
I dropped onto the corner of the bed, head hanging low.
My teeth ground until pain flared. Fuck.
I just wanted the boy from Saint Lucia back.
Instead I had a dead Carrick, a sealed file, and a prince who still ran the second anyone might see us.
My phone burned a hole in my pocket. I pulled it out.
Moon’s number sat under the name I’d saved for him.
MOONSHINE.
My thumb moved before my brain caught up.
ME: Hey, Moonshine. I miss you.
Delivered.
Nothing.
Fine. Expected.
Christ. One text and I was already sitting here staring at the screen, thumb hovering.
Then three dots appeared. I sat up fast. The mattress shifted under me. The folder pressed hard against the wooden slats beneath me. The dots vanished. Appeared again. Vanished.
Moon Hyun-seo, apparently, edited his rage.
Beautiful.
The message came through.
MOONSHINE:
How did you get my number?
I grinned, the split on my knuckles stinging. Every one of them was for him.
Hi to you too, prince.
Dots.
Answer the question.
Misha.
I will kill him.
Get in line.
Delete my number.
No. Not happening.
The dots came back immediately.
This is harassment.
Call it private access. Nobody has to know you’re still talking to me.
The dots danced. Typing. Deleting. Typing again.
I waited, heart kicking harder than it should, thumb hovering. Every second he didn’t block me felt like another secret he was handing me.
Save my name as the guy from Saint Lucia.
The one who still thinks about you every damn night.
He typed for a long time. Deleted. Typed again.
You are unbelievable.
You’re still answering. Still keeping the chat open. That says everything.
It says I should block you.
You won’t.
Arrogant.
Confident.
Same thing when you’re delusional.
Save me under whatever name makes you feel better, prince. Just don’t delete me.
The dots hovered. Disappeared. Came back.
Fine.
I saved you as “Saint Lucia Regret.”
I laughed out loud, chest warm despite everything.
I’ll take it.
I’d take anything the little hypocrite gave me.
You would.
You’re still texting me back at midnight. That says something.
It says I have terrible judgment.
Good. Keep that terrible judgment. Especially when it’s directed at me.
No dots for a long moment.
Good night.
I leaned back and went still. “Good night, Moonshine.” I smiled, thumb tracing the words. He hadn’t blocked me. Told me to delete his. Saved mine anyway.
Fine.
I’d play his game. Lay low. Let Aleksei think I was behaving. All so I could get closer. I’d take anything from him. Even the scraps.