21. CHAPTER 21
CILLIAN
Thud. The baseball slammed the ceiling, dropped back into my palm like it wanted to bruise me.
I shouldn’t have left him.
I clenched the baseball harder, seams biting into my palm like punishment. Fuck. I didn’t regret the kiss. Not for one second. He was mine. He’d been mine since Saint Lucia. But the way he pushed me away after—
My jaw locked. The ball dug deeper.
I could walk away from the family. From the violence. From the name that made them spit trash and whore.
Never wanted much before. Just let the fists talk. Then Moon. Now all I see is him. Dark-haired kids with his eyes.
He kissed me back for one second… and shoved me off. He still looked at me like leaving was an option.
My phone rang. Aleksei.
I answered mid-throw. “What?”
“Get to the ball. Now.”
I sat up fast. “Why?”
“Declan has the Writ now.” Aleksei’s voice was tight. “Black Chalice opened the Writ fully after your little public performance. He panicked. Called his brother.”
My shoulders went rigid. “The fuck do you mean he has it?”
“He realized Moon is leverage against you now,” Aleksei snapped. “Vivienne’s trying to contain the narrative, but after that kiss—”
I frowned hard. “Vivienne?”
“…Moon’s Vivienne?” I asked slowly.
Wait.
I straightened fully. “Are you fucking her?”
“Cillian—”
“Does Moon know you’re fucking his intimidating little political attack dog?”
“Not important right now.”
“The fuck it isn’t.”
Aleksei exhaled sharply.
“Fuck.”
Cold slid down my spine.
“What?”
“Ronan.”
Every muscle in my body locked. Ronan Carrick. Declan was a school bully. Ronan was the Carrick heir who didn’t play academy games. He ended things. Permanently.
I shoved up, grabbed my keys, helmet, jacket. Shouldered the door open and took the stairs three at a time.
I walked away first.
“Cillian. Get here right now.”
I was already swinging my leg over the bike. “On my way.” I hung up.
The ride was brutal. Cold wind sliced through leather.
Engine roared under me. All I could see was Moon, with Ronan circling.
I tore up the drive, killed the engine, and stormed into the hall, snow melting in my hair, no fucking tux.
Crystal chandeliers. Marble floor already sticky with spilled champagne. Heads turned. Whispers cut.
Then I saw him. Moon on the dance floor with her. Zara King. She looked like a princess. She kissed his cheek. He smiled down at her, everything he never gave me in public.
My blood ignited. I shoved through the crowd. People parted. Someone muttered “Thorn brute.” I didn’t care. I stepped right onto the dance floor and between them, shoulder checking the space until Zara had to step back.
“You’re not his real girlfriend,” I said, “so fuck off.”
Zara jerked back the second my shoulder crowded her, eyes flashing. “Back off, Ashbourne.”
Moon’s expression iced over. He stepped between us, palm flat against my leather jacket. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
I grabbed his wrist before he could pull back, thumb pressing hard into his racing pulse. The entire ballroom slowed. Phones rose higher. Everyone watching. Someone laughed low in the corner. The Gallery was already eating this alive.
Zara stepped back, chin high, furious. Two girls in designer gowns immediately closed ranks beside her. “I warned you about optics, Hyun.”
She smiled for the watching crowd. “You made this public. So I’m ending it public.”
Moon reached for her, fingers brushing her sleeve. “Zara—”
“No.” Her smile didn’t move. “Whatever is happening between you and Ashbourne, I won’t be your cover story. For the record, I’m ending this.”
She turned. The room erupted in murmurs. Flashes from phones lit the air. Moon’s mouth opened but nothing came out.
I didn’t let go of his wrist. “Ronan Carrick is here,” I growled, stepping in until our chests nearly brushed. “He’s looking for you. This isn’t academy games anymore, Moon. He’s real.”
Moon’s eyes burned into mine. His breath hit hot against my mouth. For one moment I thought he might kiss me or hit me. Instead he twisted his wrist free and grabbed the front of my leather jacket with both fists, yanking me toward the exit like he was the one dragging me out.
His knuckles dug into my chest like he was trying to rip my heart out through the leather. I let him. I’d let him carve it free if it meant he kept touching me. Our bodies collided with every angry step.
“You knew Carrick was here. And instead of texting me, you manhandled me in front of the entire ballroom. Do you understand how humiliating that is? How many eyes were on us?”
I let him pull me through the doors. Snow fell heavier outside. Moon’s breath clouded white, his perfect tux already rumpled from my hands. His thigh brushed mine as we moved.
“Helmet. Now,” I said.
Moon stared at me. Jaw working. Then his eyes cut back toward the ballroom. He snatched the helmet from my hand.
He shoved it on, furious, but he climbed on behind me, anyway. His arms locked around my waist. Fingers dug into my abdomen through the jacket. His chest pressed flush to my back, heart hammering hard enough I could feel it.
I turned the key. The engine roared.
“Hold on tight, prince.”
The bike tore out into the dark, snow whipping past us.
But I knew I’d just detonated everything he’d been trying to save.
The wind was vicious, slicing through my jacket. His knees knocked against mine every time the bike hit a bump. He held on. Hard. I shouldn’t have wanted that. I wanted it more.
We stopped at a gas station. Harsh fluorescent light. Empty pumps. Moon ripped the helmet off. Hair wrecked. Eyes wild.
“What the fuck… you know who’s after me?” Moon snapped, stepping straight into my space. Our chests nearly brushed.
“Calm down, I know you’re—”
“Calm down?” He shoved a finger hard into my chest. Ice-cold. “Ronan Carrick is after me. I never asked for any of this. How fucking hard is it for people to just leave me the fuck alone?” His voice cracked on the last word. “But everyone always has to make my life miserable.”
“You and fucking Sawyer. You knew, didn’t you?”
“I… Yeah.” I held his stare.
Moon’s face twisted with rage and betrayal. For a second I thought he might actually hit me. His breath came fast and hot against my throat.
“Everyone I thought gave a shit about me clearly doesn’t. You. Sawyer. All of you.”
“I thought I could control it,” I said.
Moon laughed once, sharp. “Control? I’m the only one who has any. You’re the one out here doing whatever the fuck you want.” He turned and stormed toward the gas station.
“Hey…” I called after him. “Moonshine.” He didn’t stop. Didn’t even glance back. Just kept walking, head high.
I stayed by the bike pumping gas, gaze locked on the window.
Under those harsh lights he looked small and furious.
It twisted something ugly in my chest. Hair messy.
Molars grinding. Grabbing water and a coffee, hands shaking so badly the cup nearly slipped.
Steam rose from the coffee in thick white curls.
He kept glancing toward the dark road outside, eyes darting like he expected Ronan’s headlights to cut through the black at any second.
Moon came back out.
“Don’t,” he warned the second I started taking off my jacket.
I stepped closer anyway, sliding it properly onto his arms and zipping it up so it would hold against the wind on the bike. “You’re freezing.”
Moon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull away. “Stop acting like you know what I need.”
I didn’t answer. Just adjusted the collar around his neck, thumb lingering a second too long against his skin. The jacket swallowed him. My jacket. On him. He jammed the helmet on without another word. He climbed behind me.
I revved the engine.
He was here now. Still holding on. And I was never letting him go again. The frantic ride settled into something slower, heavier. Moon was warmer now. I could feel every shaky breath he took against my spine.
He didn’t speak.
Neither did I.
The road narrowed. City lights vanished. The Highlands swallowed everything. Just the headlight, the snow, and Moon’s arms locked around my waist.
The safe house appeared at the end of a long, snow-covered drive. Remote. Isolated. One single light burning in the window.
I killed the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. Moon got off first. He ripped the helmet off.
He stared at the dark house, then turned to me. Refusing to blink. “Start talking.”
I didn’t answer right away. I swung off the bike, dug my fingers into the snow beside the front step, and pulled out the hidden key. Metal cold enough to burn.
Moon watched me unlock the door. “Is this yours?”
“One of my family’s hideouts,” I said, pushing the door open. “Come on.”
The inside was freezing. Dark wood and stone.
The air smelled of cold ash and old smoke.
I moved straight to the fireplace, crouching to stack kindling and logs.
My hands were still half-numb from the ride.
The match shook between my fingers. Moon hovered near the door like he wasn’t sure whether to run or stay.
I struck a match instead. The flame caught fast, crackling loud in the silence.
I filled the kettle and slammed it on the stove, water sloshing.
Moon finally moved. He walked over to the fire, still swallowed by my jacket, arms wrapped tight around himself. He didn’t look at me. Just stared into the growing flames, nostrils flaring, elbows locked.
I made two mugs of tea and set one down on the low table beside him. He didn’t thank me. Just picked it up with shaking hands and wrapped both palms around the mug.
I nudged his shoe with my boot. “Hey. Look at me.” Moon slowly turned his head. He still hadn’t taken my jacket off.
My jacket looked right on him.
“Now what?” The words cracked at the edges. “What the fuck do we do, Cillian?”