Chapter Sixteen
Saoirse
I slammed the door behind me and stomped to Fiona’s room. Throwing open the door, I closed it hard, and threw myself onto the bed, then screamed into her pillow.
What the fuck, Dusty? He might as well have told me that he loved me with all that shite about me deserving love, and being fine with my job, and what had he said?
I will eviscerate them in song. I will use my music to set the world on fire for you.
What did that even mean?
At the same time, while I’d had people offer to end someone for me, I’d never had someone offer to end them with music.
It was actually quite sweet. Especially because Dusty, for all the haters, was a pretty clever lyricist.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I yelled into the pillow, tears pricking my eyes.
Regret consumed me. Not for what I should be regretting, which was sleeping with Dusty.
No. It was what I’d said to him after. Not the conversation we’d had before, which was necessary. My reaction. The shouting.
The way he looked at me like I’d stabbed him in the chest with my knife and twisted it.
“Hey.” Fiona sat on the bed and started rubbing my back. “What did the doors do to make you upset?”
“Dusty can’t take a hint,” I snapped.
“Well, stop hinting, and tell him outright to stop. Is he existing too loudly for you? Want me to have Carlos talk to him?” she soothed, her candy cane scent enveloping me, as she continued to rub my back.
“No. That’s not it.” I made an annoyed noise. Yes, he existed a little loudly for my sensibilities, but I know he didn’t mean it, and it wasn’t usually entirely unwelcome.
“I see. What did he do? He must have done something for you to yell at him like that.” Her voice was low and nonjudgmental.
He’d done about as much as the door. Well, outside of being too understanding about me being an assassin and my concerns.
“How much did you hear?” I said softly.
“Enough. What did he do to be called a ridiculous musician? I’m asking in earnest, because so far he’s been nothing but sweet. But you know him better than I do.”
“He thinks he can love me,” I blurted. That’s what triggered me. Guys like him weren’t for women like me. I was a killer. I was ruthless. I was an O’Halloran.
Why couldn’t he not be so understanding for once?
There was no room for softness in my life. Fiona was enough of a liability without introducing a civilian.
Not to mention he was an alpha. They were judgmental motherfuckers.
Even if he was genuine, I barely deserved Fiona’s love, let alone his.
Still, there really was no need for me to shout. I could have simply left it at, I can’t do this and slammed the door.
But I’d chosen my words specifically to hurt him. Maybe if he hated me, he’d leave me alone, and I wouldn’t have to ponder the tough questions he brought up.
Dusty, the oversharer, had told me many times about how he’d clawed his way to where he was now, trying to make it with a sound that didn’t quite fit industry niches. He was quirky–and society wasn’t quite ready for an alpha like him.
Not to mention, smaller, skinnier alphas often got shite to begin with, especially if they didn’t fit the tough alpha stereotype.
He was strong though, both physically and mentally. I’d never admit it, but I’d even learned a few moves from sparring with him. Which we’d done on one of our I’ll make it up to you sessions, where we’d gone to a big, extreme fighting league match, then gotten to spar in the actual ring.
There was dominance under the surface that he hid carefully behind charm and silliness. In some ways that was scarier than an outrightly dominant alphahole.
“He told you he loves you? I can see how that might startle you.” She pet my hair like I was a puppy.
“It was worse than I love you,” I confessed. I told her everything.
“He thought we worked for the government?” Fiona laughed, laying down to face me so we were nose to nose.
“We wouldn’t make nearly as much.” I chuckled. Though we ran into government assassins sometimes. Fiona was friends with some of them. Also, we probably did work for governments, doing what their own people couldn’t do because of politics.
Fiona moved my hair out of my face. “Eviscerating people in song sounds fantastic. Like something you’d hear in a royal court–the musician who mocks people and sings gossip as everyone feasts in the grand hall of the castle.”
“True.” I sighed.
“It was the whole thing about deserving love, wasn’t it?” Fiona bit her lower lip. “You deserve love. It doesn’t matter what your family, your ex, or your former friends say. I mean, I love you.”
“I know you love me, Mo Stóirín.” I stroked her hair. Every day I was grateful. She didn’t understand how she’d literally saved my life.
Fiona kissed me on the nose. “I do.”
“Why does he care for me? How does he care for me? He’s not part of this way of life. It’s not about secrecy or rules. It’s wrapping my head around how someone who makes people happy for a living can love me.” My mouth snapped shut.
It was hard for me to be that vulnerable with anyone. Even Fiona. How could some musician love me, when someone who’d trained beside me my whole life, couldn’t?
“Oh, I see,” she said softly.
“I was too harsh. I shouldn’t have taken out my own past on him like that. I should’ve just fucked him and left. Silence is better.” Guilt filled me.
Fiona looked at me. “That’s not a healthy way of dealing with things. I’m sure he didn’t mean to trigger you. He seems like a really nice guy, and I’d love to see him onstage, singing some song that mocks your sister and your fucking ex, maybe even your parents.”
I thought for a moment. “They’re not worth the effort.”
“Now that’s healthy thinking. Dusty could be a good alpha. Not all alphas are bad.”
“Maybe.” Not all alphas were bad. I knew some pretty good ones. They just weren’t romantic material.
Also, in Ireland there was still the attitude that alphas preferred omegas.
If you weren’t an omega, and had your sights on an alpha, you were just setting yourself up for heartbreak.
When it happened, you’d be reminded that you deserved it, because you were just someone for alphas to fuck around with.
Maybe I’d twisted it to be that alphas were only for fucking to protect myself. If they weren’t worth anything I couldn’t get my heart broken.
The problem was that Dusty had gotten under my skin.
“I’d be okay if you wanted to give him a chance. I mean, think of the adorable babies you would have.” Fiona laughed.
“Fiona.” I rolled my eyes and gave her a playful shove.
“They’d be dangerous and creative and oh, they'd speak both Irish and Spanish, and probably interchangeably.” Her laugh turned into a giggle. “If I have babies with Carlos, it would be the same way. Oh my goodness!”
I thought for a moment. “You and Carlos would make cute babies. Just because you would have cute babies with somebody doesn’t mean you should.”
“Speak for yourself.” She giggled, hitting me with a pillow.
“I am. Would you have Carlos’ babies?” How serious were they?
“Today? No. Next week… maybe?” She grinned. “I could see having his athletic babies. Also, you like babies.”
“I do.” If I stayed with her, formed a pack with her and whoever she chose, I would happily raise those babies. I wasn’t even against having babies of my own someday. But it was quite an abstract thought.
“You know, if he’s still here, maybe you should say you’re sorry. Just ‘cause it’s his big night.”
“Shite. I didn’t even think about that before I spoke. You’re right. I’ll apologize. But it’s still over.” Guilt ate at me. Dusty was the kind of guy who internalized everything.
But I couldn’t endanger my heart or career.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll support you. I just want you to be happy.”
I rested my head on her chest and held her for a moment, relishing in her comfort, her peppermint scent, the peace she brought me.
After Liam’s betrayal, I left home. I’d been recruited to the Company and threw myself into it, and made myself into exactly what they claimed I was. A cold, heartless killer.
Then, I had to keep running into this little redhead omega, with a penchant for trouble at the club. Just seeing her made me soften. I thought she was too good for me. After all, she was an omega–a very privileged omega.
Who pursued me relentlessly.
Not unlike how Dusty was now.
“I should see if he’s still here,” I said.
“I’m glad you’re willing to apologize. I’m proud of you for doing that.” She kissed me.
“I do own my mistakes, and I know I crossed the line, even if his words upset me.” After all, I had kissed him back, fucked him, and had been having a great time until he started talking about feelings.
“Should you perhaps finish dressing?” Smirking, she patted my ass.
I looked down. “Perhaps.”
Dusty wasn’t in the bunkroom. My clothes lay in the middle of the floor. I put them on and went downstairs.
In the living room, Hale had arranged several undressed dolls into what I could only suppose was a doll sex party. Others were posed on the table with lines of white powder as he took pictures.
“What are you doing? I hope you’re not sending those to your siblings, they’ll be traumatized.” I was traumatized. While I’d played doll assassins as a child, it seemed wrong to have them do such things.
He laughed and took another. “Oh, they’re going into the older sibling group chat. But yeah, one of my sisters is traumatized, but not the one I thought would be. Grace thinks it’s funny as shit and keeps suggesting things.”
“Where’s Dusty?” I looked around.
“Dusty just left. He had to head to the club for the meet and greet.” Carlos stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables.
“Making dinner? I thought we were going to get something later. Or is this just a snack?”
“I’m actually making chicken pozole–soup–and putting it in the slow cooker, so it can cook all night. Dusty already put the beans on for tomorrow.”