Chapter 13 #2
I raised a brow and pulled her forward so her face was closer to mine. “So, you just carry knives for fun?” My voice was low, laced with venom. “No, I think you were going to use it on her, weren’t you?”
Her eyes darted to the curly-haired girl who stood looking at us, her eyes terrified.
I squeezed her wrist harder, enough to make her whimper, the blade trembling in her grip. My own rage flared hot in my chest because I knew exactly what she wanted to do with it.
I leaned towards her ear. “Tell me—how does it feel, knowing I could end you just as easily?”
Her knife clattered to the floor as she sucked in a breath. I pulled back, letting her face go and grabbing the knife, slowly inspecting it. She was still, just watching, seeing if I would actually stab her.
She would deserve it, and there are plenty of places I could do it that won't kill her.
Everything in me was screaming at me to do it.
I pulled back, letting her go but taking the knife with me. I didn’t kill innocents, unless she tried to kill me, then it was fair game.
I stepped towards the girl whom I had just saved, looking at the others, who were slowly waking up.
I hope they all have a pounding headache for days. Maybe next time they will think twice before picking a fight they can’t win.
“Leave now, and if I ever catch you pulling this shit again. I won’t be so nice next time.” I gripped the knife harder, aiming a look at the girls on the floor who scrambled up and ran off.
As the others left without hesitation, I could feel my body begin to tremble from the pain and weakness that was hitting me all at once.
I had tapped into powers I hadn’t even realised were mine, but the way I could feel Xarothar's panic and anger, something makes me think I accidentally tapped into our bond.
I know he was trying to talk to me, but I shut him out. I didn’t want a lecture, not with the headache I had. My magic was trying to tear me apart from the inside.
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders and dropping the knife to the floor, turning to the girl behind me.
“You, okay?”
She hesitated, then gave a small nod.
“Good.” I glanced toward the street. “Come on, let's get you out of here.”
I waited for her to step ahead of me, taking the lead as we made our way to wherever she came from. Every few steps, she glanced back, her expression uncertain, like she wanted to say something to me. She probably assumed I wouldn’t understand her even if she tried.
She’d be wrong.
“I know sign language,” I told her, before asking again. “Are you okay?”
She responded, her hands moving gracefully despite the slight tremor in them. Now I am, thank you.
I gave her a small smile, ignoring the way my legs ached and cramped up with every step. I was drained, dangerously so. Every muscle in my body was screaming at me to stop, but I pushed through it. I needed to make sure she got home safely.
“Does that happen a lot?”
She hesitated, then shrugged before signing. Yes.
Something sharp twisted in my chest at her response. The casual way she admitted it, like being cornered and tormented, was just another part of her life, which made me sad and angry for her. She didn’t deserve that. Nobody did.
I clenched my fists, forcing my anger down and keeping my expression neutral as we walked. The further we went, the heavier my limbs felt, like I was wading through thick, invisible tar. I was running on fumes, and my body knew it, even if it wasn’t ready to admit it.
A tall apartment building loomed ahead, sleek and modern, its dark-tinted windows catching the glow of the streetlights. At the doors, she tapped a quick sequence on the keypad. A beep, a soft click, and the door swung open on its own.
Fancy.
She turned back to me, her brown eyes soft with concern. You can come up with me, I can see how tired you are, and no one should be home tonight.
I should’ve said no. I didn’t know her, and I didn’t trust easily, but I was second-guessing that recently. I definitely don’t like putting myself in a vulnerable position around strangers. But I also didn’t have the energy to argue.
And she seemed kind.
So, I nodded.
The stairs were hell. My headache wasn’t as sharp anymore, but the exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.
Halfway up, I stumbled, my foot catching on a step.
She reacted fast, spinning and grabbing me before I could faceplant the ground.
Worry tightened her expression, but she couldn’t sign as she held me, so I forced out a small, reassuring smile.
“I’m okay, just tired.”
Her grip didn’t ease until I was steady again, and we made the rest of the climb slowly, step by step, until we reached a sleek black door. She unlocked it with one hand, her other still wrapped around my back, and I couldn’t help but admire how damn gentle she was.
Well, I had just saved her from a bunch of assholes. Guess she was returning the favour.
The door swung open, revealing a dimly lit apartment with a boy sprawled across a couch, and a beer bottle on the table in front of him.
Looks like people are home.
A video game blared from the TV screen, some form of shooting game, and he was deep into it, fingers quick on the controller.
But I barely noticed him because Ronan was right there beside him, controller in hand, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
I blinked. Huh, I didn’t know he lived here.
The second Ronan saw me, his entire body tensed. His eyes went wide, the controller slipping from his grip and thudding onto the floor. In a blink, he was in front of me, hands cradling my face as he scanned over me. His touch was gentle, and I couldn’t help but get lost in his baby blues.
“What happened?” His voice was tight, edged with barely contained panic. He wasn’t just asking me; he was demanding answers from the girl, too.
His voice was faint, my legs buckled, and I slumped forward, too exhausted to hold myself up anymore. Ronan caught me easily, his arms locking around me. From the corner of my eye, the girl was signing something to him, her movements quick and urgent, but I was far too gone to make out the words.
Ronan’s grip on me tightened before he effortlessly swept me into his arms. One arm slid beneath my legs, the other cradling my back, holding me as if I were precious and weighed nothing.
My head fell against his chest, and his scent wrapped around me—cedarwood, rich and grounding, laced with sharp citrus hints, fresh, crisp, and so him.
I should have resisted, but exhaustion stole the fight from me. Instead, I let myself sink into his warmth, my fingers weakly gripping the fabric of his shirt. He carried me with ease, his muscles tense, his grip unwavering—like he wouldn’t let go even if the world tried to tear me away.
“Cherry,” He murmured, his voice rough with concern. His breath ghosted over my hair, but I didn't have the energy to lift my head. Still, I felt safe, dangerously safe, the kind of safe that made me want to trust him, even when I knew better.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, barely aware of the way Ronan moved.
The world blurred around me until I felt something soft beneath my back.
His hands were careful as he slipped off my shoes, the warmth of his touch lingering.
A blanket was pulled over me, tucking me in with a gentleness I haven’t felt in years.
His fingers brushed against my cheek. I forced my heavy eyes open, finding his staring back, filled with what looked like concern and frustration.
“You really are a reckless little thing.” His thumb grazed my cheekbone. “Get some rest, Cherry. You’re safe here.” I felt the warmth of his lips press against my head—a simple touch, but it cracked something deep inside me.
Nobody has ever tucked me into bed since my mother died.
No one had pulled the blanket over me, made sure I was safe or kissed my head softly before I slept.
A memory stirred, hazy and fragile—my mother’s soft voice whispering goodnight, her lips brushing against my hair as she told me the stars would watch over me. That I would always be safe under them.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, and my body exhausted, but my heart ached in a way I wasn’t prepared for. My lips parted, maybe to say something, but sleep pulled me under instead.