21. Maeve #2
He dabs at my skin, and I bite back a gasp, nails chipping on the desk. Fuck. That stings. And he’s not exactly gentle. Anger radiates off of him, heating the air between us.
“And now you’re mad at me.”
“We’re way past mad.” He glares up at me, fingers impersonal. “I’m fucking livid.”
“You left,” I whisper, throat clogged. Blinking away tears, I hold on to my flickering rage—the kind that doesn’t know if it wants to consume us both, or die under the crushing love that still simmers underneath. “You said it would be us against everything. You promised you’d stay and help me.”
I fucking hate how weak I sound—how broken I feel. But that’s what he reduced me to—a helpless girl, looking, waiting for him.
Clearing my throat, I avoid his hard gaze. “So, I learned how to function without you. I didn’t have you to stabilize me, to help me through the dark days. I learned to cope.”
“By running headfirst into danger,” he mutters. “By ignoring your own limitations.”
“Someone has to do it.” I shrug, his fingers pausing on my side. “Might as well be the person no one will miss when she leaves.”
He stops, surging forward to grab my chin. His nails bite into my skin, his breath hot against my lips. My body tenses, waiting for the lash.
“And what happens to me when you leave?” He searches my eyes. He’s angry—but oh, so sad too. “How do I continue if you’re gone?”
Swallowing, I shrug. “I assume you’d find another person to torment.”
His lips quirk, fighting a smile. “You’re it for me, Princess. In this life or the next, I only want to disturb your peace.”
Pressing his forehead to mine, I exhale. I grip his sides, his fingers casually running along my side. It’s a simple touch—but grounding.
“You’re still mad.”
“Pissed,” he corrects. “You almost died again. And that fucker touched you.” Under the current of fury is a thread of pain. Of abandonment and longing so tight, it strikes my heart. He still wants me. Years, torment, and being pushed away, but Killian Linwood still wants me.
I sigh, closing my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He clenches his jaw, nodding once. I don’t apologize—that’s not something I do. I make choices and move on—fuck whoever gets hurt. But with Killian?
I make an exception. He’s always the exception.
“Tell me,” he says, rubbing his head against mine. “One thing. Just one.” I nod, waiting.
“Were you going to fuck him?” He glares at my lips. “Were you going to choose him if I didn’t show up?”
I should tell him I would. Force him to leave me alone. Maybe then, this love in my chest—an ugly, festering flower of rot—will die a horrible death. I’d finally have peace.
But that’s hiding. More lies.
Carefully, I touch his face, running my scarred fingers over his sharp jaw. He freezes, unsure if he should lean in or stop me. I’m not sure which I’d prefer.
Gulping, I say quietly, “I’ve never slept with Reese, Pup. I’ve only ever given you my body. I’ve only ever trusted you to help me fight the demons.”
His pupils blow wide, Adam’s apple bobbing. His hands turn punishing, pulling me closer, as if he can fuse us together. With my arms around him, his chest pressed to mine, maybe he can.
“Ace!” Alessio storms into my office, and we jump apart.
“Alessio,” I drawl, voice rough. My hands drop, but the Reaper doesn’t let me go. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit busy.”
“You fucking recall us?” He slams his hands on the chair. Tousled hair, sharp eyes, he’s rumpled with a fine stubble over his face.
But behind the good looks, I notice the grief in his eyes. Tony was his best friend—his second, a cousin, someone he trusted—and he’s gone.
Because of me.
That sours my mood. Pulling completely from the Reaper, he begrudgingly finishes tending to my wound. Before he does, he whispers into my ear, “We’re not finished.”
It’s a promise and a threat.
Staring ahead, I ignore the blush on my cheeks. “That’s how it works, Alessio. I call, you come. No questions asked.”
“She’s fucking pregnant with twins.”
I stare at him. “I’m aware.”
Seething, he slaps the chair, and Killian glances over his shoulder, glaring. “She can’t be moved like this. She’s too close to her due date. She’s nesting.”
“And she can nest here.” It’s safer here—I can protect them here. “Use a few of the rooms in the wing and make an apartment. That’s what Collins and Hayes did. I have a crew on standby. They work quickly.”
“I don’t want a crew,” he growls, stalking close. Killian turns, blocking me while I lower my shirt. “I want to be home in my place, with my wife, and my boys. Where do you get off evoking that clause?—”
“Don’t like it?” I slip from my desk, tucking my bloody shirt into my skirt. “Then fucking take it up with Nico. He drafted it.”
He runs a hand through his hair harshly. “I don’t have the patience for a power play, Ace. My cousin was killed—I have a funeral to plan. Being here, on lockdown no less, is bullshit?—”
“Such anger,” Killian tsks. “Very unbecoming of a capo.”
“Fuck you, Reaper.”
“You have my condolences,” I offer. “But I’m not changing my mind. You’re to remain here until it’s safe again.”
“When will that be?” He glares at me, and my shoulders tense. Lex doesn’t scare me—but I want to grab my knife anyway. “We’re only in this mess because of you. Tony is dead because of you—my wife could’ve died because of you.”
It’s a slap to my face. Sharp, stinging, my breath lodges in my throat. Worse of all, the capo is right—this is my fault.
Such pretty skin. Look how it breaks. You will soon.
Sloane could’ve as easily been the one in the car instead of Tony. I would’ve lost her—and her boys. All because someone wants to make me submit, to take my throne—my power—and my family for their own misdeeds. Would this be happening if I had been a man, changing decrees and making plays?
So weak. You can’t do anything right.
Swallowing, I fist my hands to hide the shaking.
“Get comfortable,” I say coldly, pushing away all the doubts. “No one goes off property. Not without my permission.”
Lex curses in Italian. “Figlio di puttana. You can’t expect us?—”
Killian laughs, pulling his knife, and rests it against Lex’s throat. “I’m pretty sure the last time we were here, I told you to never threaten the captain again. Especially in front of me.”
Body rigid, Lex holds the Reaper’s glare. “Still her bitch, I see.”
“Woof.”
“I expect everyone to listen and be smart.” A thought strikes me. “Where is Nico?”
Lex breaks his staring contest with the Reaper, pulling away to rub his neck. He’s lucky it doesn’t come back bloody.
“Home. Why?”
Insane panic strikes my gut, and I hold the desk to keep from falling. My pulse hums in my ears, and my lungs cease to function. “Does he have protection?”
Lex scoffs. “Why would he need it?”
“You let your old capo run around the city without guards?” Killian sneers.
“He has men at the door, but he doesn’t have bodyguards—where are you going?” I rush from the room, heels digging into the floor, and my vision swims.
“He’s vulnerable,” I bark, opening the door. Glaring at Lex, I say, “Some fucking capo.”
If the Board is coming after everyone I care about—my allies—then Nico is the biggest target.
He’s the reason I’m captain of my clan.
Before I get to the front door, Killian yanks it out of my hands.
I know we had a moment, but I can’t do this right now. I can’t have the distraction—his nearness, pulling me away. I have to focus—I have to be the captain.
“No.”
“I’m not asking.” He rips my keys from my hand and shoves me through the door. “You don’t go anywhere without me, remember?”
“It’s Nico?—”
“And if he’s not alone?” Shoving me into the car, he braces his hand on my head. “You’re still healing, and we have a lot left to discuss. You don’t get to die after that fucking bombshell.”
Before he slams the door, he adds, “You’re thinking with your heart and not your head. You’re going to need me.”
I don’t like assumptions—even if they’re true.
Instead, I buckle my seatbelt as the Reaper peels out of the horseshoe driveway.