Chapter 4
Cillian
The words hang in the air, sharp and bitter.
The urge to find Cian Gannon and beat him into a bloody pulp is so strong it’s a physical ache.
He didn’t just take her. He put this poison in her head, this archaic bullshit about marriage and claims. He tried to corner her, to make her feel like a piece of property to be traded.
My eyes scan her from head to toe, searching for any mark he might have left.
She’s pale, exhausted, and the sass is a brittle shield over something raw and shaken.
The red marks on her throat from Liam are still faintly visible, a reminder of how close we came to losing her before this even started.
“He thinks a wedding ring is the only thing that makes you ours?” Ciar’s voice is a low, dangerous rumble from beside me. He looks ready to commit murder.
Axl’s expression is colder, more calculating. “It’s a power play. He’s trying to force our hand, make us prove our claim by his rules.”
I ignore them both, my focus entirely on her. I reach out, cupping her jaw, my thumb stroking the soft skin just below her ear. Her sassy mask cracks, just for a second, and I see the real fear in her eyes. The exhaustion.
“Is that what you want?” I ask, my voice rough. “A husband?”
“I want to stay here with you. Is that what you want? Seriously? Long term? After St. Bart’s? Even if your families call you home?”
“Whatever made you think this was short-term?” Ciar asks before I can. “I carved your name into my arm. I carved my name down your spine. Did you think that was something that could just be washed away?”
“You think our fathers can call us home? You think we’d just leave you?” The idea is so fucking absurd it almost makes me laugh.
I crowd her until she has to tilt her head back to look at me. I want her to see it in my eyes, the absolute fucking certainty. “This isn’t some university fling, Sorcha. This is for life. Our life.”
“Cian’s playing by old-world rules because he knows it will save you,” Axl says. “Is that how you want to be saved?”
The words are a perfect echo of my own thoughts. I bring my other hand up to her face, cradling it, forcing her to feel the truth of my next words. “He’s right about one thing. You need to be untouchable. Not for his sake, but for ours.”
“I don’t want a man to save me,” she says. I can hear the venom in her voice. She is fuming. “I don’t want to be chattel. But if he doesn’t get his way, he is coming for me in two days, and I’ll have to go with him.”
“We will do whatever it is you want to do,” I murmur.
“If that is marriage to one or all three of us, if you want one of us to convince our dads to adopt you, also on the table,” I say with a smile.
“Although that might make fucking you a bit weird…” I trail off as she snorts with half-amusement, half-horror.
“Or anything else it takes to keep you safe and here.”
Her eyes flash, and I let her go. She crosses her arms, breathing in deeply.
“I don’t want to get married,” she blurts out.
“It’s not any of you, it’s me. It’s never been in my plan.
We are twenty-one years old, living lives where we get shot at in the courtyard on campus.
I’ve survived this long on my own, and being told to tie myself to someone in this archaic way is… It’s fucking annoying, is what it is!”
“So, what then? You go with Cian?”
Ciar’s question doesn’t hang there for long.
“We find another fucking way,” she growls. “We burn every motherfucker to the ground and be left standing in the ashes victorious and together.”
That’s my girl. Not a princess waiting in a tower, but a fucking Valkyrie ready to lead the charge. The fire in her eyes is a blaze that makes my cock hard.
“Then that’s what we do. We give them the war they’re asking for. But Cian’s a pragmatist. He gave you an ultimatum because it’s the only language the old guard understands. A claim. A binding.”
Her jaw tightens, ready to argue, but I clamp my hand around her throat to cut off her words.
“You think marriage is archaic? Let’s do one better. Let’s go back to the times of our ancestors, those who worked this land, who started our families and gave us our names.”
“Meaning?” she croaks.
“I think he means we don’t marry you, we blood bind with you,” Axl says with a vicious smile. “In public, with everyone watching.”
“Holy shit,” she mutters. “Are you fucking serious? Isn’t that… unsanitary?”
I snort. “You are bothered about sharing blood when we’ve fucked you so hard you forgot your own name?”
“Some of you,” Axl mutters, but I ignore him.
“We aren’t playing by anyone’s rules, Sorcha. Not now, not ever. If you want to be with us, if you are sure you will choose us over your brother, then this is a way to give a giant fuck you to every single arsehole looking to come for you.”
“It’s fucking genius,” Ciar says. “One-upmanship at its finest, Red. You in?”
I watch her, my whole body tight with anticipation.
This is the moment. The choice isn’t between us and her brother anymore.
It’s between playing their game and starting our own fucking war.
Her eyes, those incredible blue infernos, flicker between the three of us.
She’s weighing it, tasting the sheer audacity of the idea on her tongue.
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across her face, transforming her from a cornered animal into the predator I know she is.
“A blood binding,” she says. “You guys really don’t do things by halves, do you?”
“Never,” I tell her. “We go all in, or we don’t go at all.”
“This is everything they can’t deny without the connotations of marriage behind it,” Axl says. “It’s perfect.”
She smiles. “Then I guess you’d better find the sharpest fucking knife you own.”
Relief, hot and potent, crashes through me. It’s a declaration. She’s not just accepting our protection; she’s joining the fight, ready to get her hands bloody right alongside us.
“We have a few,” Axl remarks.
They all want to treat her like a possession, but we’re about to show everyone that Sorcha Gannon doesn’t belong in a cage. She belongs on a throne, forged from the bones of our enemies, and we’re the ones who are going to build it for her.
“When?” she asks.
“The day after tomorrow,” Axl replies.
“Let Cian start to sweat a bit,” Ciar chuckles. “After last class, we will show them that you don’t fuck with the Cerberus Order.”
I watch the decision settle over her. She’s agreeing; she’s taking ownership of the plan, making it her own.
I let go of her throat. “The quad. Centre stage. We’ll make it a spectacle they won’t forget.”
“Every student, every family with eyes on campus will know,” Ciar adds. “They’ll know you’re a part of us. Blood of our blood.”
The words are a vow. More sacred than any church wedding, more binding than any legal contract. We’re claiming her body, we’re claiming her soul, tying her fate to ours with a blade and a promise.
“Go get some rest,” I say. “We aren’t stopping our lives for these fuckers. Tomorrow, we train. The day after, we go to war.”
“What about the kitchen?” she asks.
Axl sighs. “The builders will be here in the morning. For now, we take watch.”
She nods and heads towards the stairs. I follow her, not wanting to be away from her now that she is back.
She grips my fingers and gives me a tired smile as she leads me up the stairs and to her bedroom.
She collapses, and I let her, removing her shoes and wrapping the covers around her so she doesn’t get cold.
Then I sit in the armchair and watch over her.