Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Devlin
I beat my hands against the metal walls as an invisible fist slammed into my gut.
I doubled over before crashing to the ground on my hands and knees.
The floor burned my skin. I gasped for air as a blow to my face sent a tooth flying across the floor.
The only sound was my grunts. No shouts. No voices. I was alone. Always alone.
But the pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside me. A vast, black void where something vital should’ve been. How was I still alive without something so important? It didn’t make any sense.
I scrambled across the scorching floor, away from the punches.
The wall in front of me rippled, and a door appeared.
My body surged toward the promised escape, because hope never seemed to fucking die.
It just came back over and over again like a damn zombie.
But that door would disappear like it always did, and I’d be stuck here wishing for death.
Then a voice cut through the sound of my rasping breaths, and I stilled with one hand reaching for the doorknob.
No… This was a new form of torture. My nightmare was evolving.
It was going to give me the illusion of company—the hope that this crushing loneliness was finally over—then rip it away. Just like the door.
But the voice drew closer instead. I could hear it on the other side of the door. I held my breath as the doorknob turned, and the door swung open. A massive figure stood in the doorway; a man’s body crowned with the head of a lion. Then its jaws opened, and the lion roared my name.
I jerked awake to strong arms wrapped around me.
“That’s it,” Cian murmured, his voice a confusing mix of soothing and commanding. “Wake up.”
My breathing slowed as I blinked my eyes open. With my face pressed against the uninjured side of his neck, Cian’s lion tattoo filled my vision. I took a minute to collect myself before pulling away.
He gripped my chin with his thumb and forefinger. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes searched mine. “All right?”
My chest shuddered as my brain struggled to process the changes in my usual nightmare plotline.
Cian had opened the door. He’d come for me.
Because of course Cian was strong enough to invade even my subconscious.
And the hope? That stupid fucking hope hadn’t died while I slept like it usually did, and now I felt it burning in my chest like an ember.
This was bad. This was really fucking bad. What was I supposed to do with this bullshit feeling? I couldn’t feed it, couldn’t let it grow into anything bigger and brighter.
Because hope could go fuck itself.
I vaguely registered that Cian had asked me a question. Was I all right? No. Not even a little. But for now, I nodded and leaned back against the pillow, brushing my hair out of my face. My body ached, and my mouth tasted like something had died.
“You need to eat.” This brand-new soft tone Cian had been using since the night of the warehouse was going to be the death of me.
He still gave commands that demanded to be followed, but now his tone was tinged with the sort of care that washed over me like warm rain. It terrified me how much I liked it.
He was still very much Cian, but his treatment of me had shifted from desperate, angry obsession to quiet possession. I’d thought I preferred the former. Turns out, I craved the latter.
“Ham or turkey?” Cian pointed to two sandwiches on a plate in front of me.
Thick slices of whole wheat bread were stacked high with layers of meat, cheese, lettuce, and tomato.
He’d even brought small plastic cups of condiments—mayo and some sort of fancy mustard—along with a heaping bowl of still-steaming mac and cheese.
“I brought both. There’s roast beef too, if you’d rather have that. ”
If only to get him to quit being so weirdly nice, I snatched the ham sandwich off the plate and took a big bite. Everything still hurt. But I was warm, and this sandwich was so good that I nearly forgot I’d been beaten to shit a few days ago.
“You need to eat too.” I nodded toward the other sandwich before also offering him mine. “Or did you want the ham?”
“Finish it,” he said as he picked up the remaining turkey sandwich and took a bite. He spoke around a mouthful as his fingers grazed my ribs. “The whole thing. You’re already too skinny.”
“Well, some of that’s on you. Hard to put on weight when you kept me on a steady diet of protein bars.”
Cian’s face darkened, and he looked away as he chewed. “Yeah, well. That was then. This is now.”
I took a moment to study him while he ate. Dark circles marred the skin beneath his eyes, and he held himself funny, like he was in pain.
“Hey,” I said. “Did you sleep? When’s the last time you took some painkillers?”
“I’ll rest soon.”
“What the hell were you even doing while I was asleep? I thought you’d lay down with me.”
“I had to talk to Rhys and Jace.”
Oh. Yeah. The two who very much wished I’d been on the receiving end of that bullet. “How’d that go? Did they lament my survival?”
He sighed. “They don’t want you dead.”
I barked out a laugh before wincing in pain.
“Oh. They absolutely do.” And for the first time since I met Cian, I felt a twinge of regret over that.
I liked Rhys’s calm presence and unwavering loyalty, and Jace had something feral in him that called to me.
I could’ve been friends with them once. Maybe in another lifetime.
“They know not to fuck with you,” Cian amended.
Low bar, but I’d take it.
“Hack is checking CCTV footage in the area around the warehouse for cars.” He laid a hand on my thigh. “Did you see anything?”
I shook my head. “I couldn’t see the street past the shooter. But he wore a full-face mask and dark clothes. Either has dark hair or was wearing a beanie. And he was probably somewhere between us in height. That’s all.”
“Yeah, that’s about all I can remember too.” His blue eyes were hard and distant. “They knew where the cameras were, the ones we installed outside to watch the entrances. They covered them right before I got shot.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. “So it’s either someone on the inside, or someone talked.”
“Seems like it,” he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Who would do that? What about the guy whose ear I mangled?”
Cian’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t think Rank is smart enough to figure out where the cameras are or sell me out. I don’t think he’s brave enough either. But I’m having a meeting with my officers tonight, and finding him is the first fucking thing on the agenda.”
He sighed. “I never planned on taking over the crew this soon. Patrick was supposed to live longer. He was supposed to be too damn evil to die young. But the older guys blame me for his death. They didn’t want me to take over yet.”
“You’re in your thirties, right?” I scoffed. “It’s not like you’re some kid.”
“To them I am. The night of the fire, Rank called me boy. I slammed his face into the fucking bar for it.” He shook his head.
“Maybe they were never going to be ready for the change in leadership, but I was hoping they’d be too old to give a shit by the time that happened.
Instead, Rank has just enough energy to still be a pain in my ass. ”
His gaze slid over to me. “It doesn’t help that they all know I’m bisexual.
I’ve never hidden it, even though Patrick wanted me to, and we have a few other queer members.
Hack is an out and proud trans man, Mads will fuck anything with a pulse, and Rhys is...
” He waved a hand, searching for the right words.
“…what he is. Anyway. I’m reshaping the crew into something they don’t like. ”
I hadn’t realized Cian was bi. I wasn’t sure what I was. I’d only been sexually attracted to two people in my entire life—Conrad and Cian. Everything else I’d forced. There was probably a term out there for me, but I didn’t have a phone to Google it.
“Patrick didn’t lead like you do. He was too transactional. He bought his men’s loyalty with rewards rather than respect.”
Cian tilted his head. “You remember all that?”
“Mick was my East Coast manager. He told me about Patrick, and I remember how he operated from the few times I met him.” I finished off the last of my sandwich and dropped the empty plate on the nightstand. “I told you. I know how to read people.”
“Is that the kind of leader you were?” Cian asked. “Rewards? Trips to Vegas for the guy who made you the most money?”
I gave him a pointed look. “No. I ruled with fear. I built a cruel reputation, and it worked. Fear outranked respect when I held the power. But fear doesn’t last. The second I started slipping, the rats fled the ship.
I blamed them, at the time. But not anymore.
” I slid down into a half-recline and settled back against the pillows before sighing.
“So, no. I wasn’t taking trips to Vegas.
I’ve never been on a plane. Until last year, I’d never even left Illinois. ”
Finished with his food, Cian nudged me over until I made room for him to lie beside me. He propped his head on his fist. “Really? So you’d never seen the ocean before you came to Jersey.”
“Still haven’t.”
His jaw dropped. That might’ve been the first time I actually surprised Cian. “What? Why not?”
I’d wanted to go—of course I had. Who didn’t dream of their first trip to the beach? I swallowed hard. “Ben, Conrad, and I used to talk about going together. So when it was just me…” I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “For some reason, going alone seemed worse than not going at all.”
Cian’s brow furrowed, and he studied me like I was a puzzle to figure out.
The contrasting shades of light and dark blue in his eyes were even more pronounced in the daylight, with the soft sun streaming through the windows.
I swiped my fingers below his left eye. “You have your father’s eye color, but somehow they look nothing like his. ”
His lips pulled into a small smile. “My mom called them Irish eyes.”