Jhene #2
It makes sense when you pause and consider the fact that there’s been too much going on. Between filling in as Clan Chief and training for his big fight against Darnell Thompson, Killian doesn’t exactly have time for girl trouble.
He’d probably be better off if he stopped worrying about me and Eva altogether.
I’m kept at the studio at almost all times.
In the event Killian’s gone or he can’t take me with him, he has the buttonmen fill in. They park themselves outside the studio door and make it clear they’re guarding me. Nobody gets in or out without going through them first.
I wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t already going stir-crazy. At least before I had the Banshee to escape to. As hard as it was working there, I miss my shifts.
I’ve even come to miss the customers who were stingy tippers.
Something’s got to give. I’m not cut out for sitting around and letting days pass by as Eva’s stuck in Fedorov’s clutches.
“Stay put,” Killian says. He’s slid a firearm into the waistband of his jeans and pulled a T-shirt over his head. “I’ve got an errand to run. Cian’ll be watching over you.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
“No.”
“But—”
“The answer’s not changing. This isn’t the kind of errand you can come on,” he interrupts gruffly. “Behave yourself. I mean it.”
I bite back my next protest and fold my arms. He glares at me until I give a cooperative nod. My promise that I’ll be a good little protectee in his absence.
He walks out of the studio with the door thudding shut after him.
I give it a few minutes. Peek out the peephole to double check if Cian’s really posted outside the door. Pace the length of the studio deciding what I can do to get some fresh air.
Then my gaze slides to the window where there’s a fire escape attached to the side of the building. It would be a quick climb to the street below.
A couple rungs and I’ll be downstairs, finally breathing in fresh air and moving my legs more than a few steps at a time in a cramped studio apartment.
It might not sound like much, but I need a moment.
I pad over to my backpack first, sliding the burner phone into the back pocket of my jeans, and then I move to open the window.
The metal cage that’s the fire escape clangs as I step onto it. It feels slightly unsteady, and I can’t help wondering when the last time it passed inspection was.
Out of sight, out of mind.
I’ve got more important things going on right now, like my few moments of freedom—and the new text waiting for me in my notifications.
Myshka.
You know what happens to those who forget where they belong.
Do not test my patience.
I make my way down to the cracked sidewalk below before I disappear on the street. The summer air brushes against my skin, and the warm rays from the sun make the entire street feel like an oven. But I’m grateful for the brief moment alone anyway.
I’m gone for no more than fifteen minutes.
I take a short walk around the block, clear all texts and notifications from the burner, and then finally force myself to return.
The fire escape is waiting for me on the side of Killian’s building.
I climb my way up faster than I had gone down. The window’s cracked partially open like I left it.
Nobody’ll ever know I snuck out and came right back.
…until I squeeze myself through the opening in the window and realize I’m not so alone after all.
Killian’s on the other side waiting for me.
Oh shit!
He glares, brawny arms folded across his chest, teeth bared. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
His rumble is enough to make me falter on a reply. He advances as I blink and stammer.
“I… I was… I needed fresh air.”
“I had my suspicions you’ve been leaving when I do,” he says. “But I figured you wouldn’t be so damn foolish.”
“I was only gone fifteen minutes. I… I walked around the block and came right back.”
“Fifteen minutes too fucking long. You were told to stay put!”
“I’m a woman, not a dog. I don’t do commands,” I counter, my heart beating faster. My pulse racing. “You keep assuming I can’t take care of my—”
“This isn’t about whether you can take care of yourself or not. How many times fucking times do I’ve got to tell you?” he rumbles, easily drowning me out. “Do you know what could’ve happened to you? The Bratva is hunting you! Every moment you’re out there alone, they’re tracking you!”
I scoff in his face, a bold move that surprises even myself. “And I’m supposed to believe I’m any safer here? They dumped Teagan on your doorstep.”
“If that’s what they did to Teagan—six-foot-tall, two-hundred-pound Teagan—when he was on his own, what do you think they’ll do to you?” he snarls crudely, taking another large step toward me.
I’ve backed up, but there’s hardly any space remaining between him and the wall and window behind me. Instead, I’m forced to peer indignantly up at him with the little hairs that rise up on the back of my neck.
I’m fully aware of what the Bratva’ll do to me.
The memories are still fresh in my mind every time I’m alone. Every time I close my eyes…
“In case you haven’t figured it out, you little pain in the ass of a stray.
I’ve been protecting you. The buttonmen have been putting their lives on the line standing outside that fucking door.
The least you could do is sit your little ass down and follow orders,” he rants in a thick, beastly growl.
It sounds more and more Irish the angrier he becomes.
A true brogue. “Enough putting yourself in danger because you’ve got a chip on your shoulder and something to prove.
Your recklessness won’t be tolerated. Neither will your stupidity. ”
Burning heat rushes to my face, and I mumble, “I’m not stupid—”
“Then stop acting like it!” he roars.
“I’m out of here!” I scream.
I’m not a screamer. I’ve never been a screamer.
But I’m at my wit’s end; my nerves have gone haywire and my pulse has exploded and every step he takes toward me makes it ten times worse.
It feels like I’m back in the cage again, confined to a small space like a pet.
I’m no one’s pet. Not even Fedorov’s.