Killian
Rounding the corner of the lodge, I stride past a bagged-up corpse to reach the three very alive bodies writhing on the ground.
“Stop fighting back!” I yell at the twins.
Ronan is pinned under Lorcan and Tiernan is on their brother’s back. It’s taking their combined strength to keep their older brother’s knife from slicing Ronan’s throat.
“No fucking way!” Ronan and Tiernan say at the same time.
Malachy is watching from a safe distance, his gun hanging uselessly at his side. Which brother is he supposed to shoot?
“Why are you standing there like an idiot?” I bark, clenching my hands at my sides when all I want to do is punch Malachy.
I have to remind myself it’s not going to help having another set of brothers fighting each other.
“You’re supposed to know how to handle this!
” He’s seen me deal with these situations often enough in the last four years.
“I tried. Lorcan won’t listen to anyone but you.” He glances over my shoulder to Katarina then shoots a glare at me. “And you were otherwise occupied.”
“Mal fired a shot,” Ronan grits out “but it didn’t work.”
“No shit?” I hiss, and this time my hand does fly up and I slam my palm against Malachy’s chest. Lorcan’s episodes have become less frequent over the years, but the way to deal with his PTSD is not to add to his sensory overload. Malachy should know this.
I take another look at the body bag beneath the external fire escape. It hasn’t been zipped up fully and a woman’s pale face stares up into the abyss. We don’t know her, but I know without asking that it was seeing her dead eyes that triggered him. If I’d been here…
I raise my hands in surrender before Malachy can retaliate. “You’re right, I should have been here. But I’m here now,” I say. “Start by moving the woman’s body so he can’t see her.”
While Malachy and another of our men carry out my first order, I crouch down in front of Lorcan, still sandwiched between the twins.
His arm trembles as he continues to fight against their restraint, his gaze focused on Ronan’s neck.
In this state, he can tap into limitless reserves of strength. He’s not going to tire.
“Lorcan, it’s me,” I say calmly. “Killian.”
He doesn’t look up, doesn’t register my words. He’s completely disassociated and has no awareness of his true surroundings. He certainly doesn’t recognize his brothers and as yet, he doesn’t recognize my voice. His ragged breaths blast against Ronan’s face.
I try again. “It’s Killian,” I repeat. “You’re safe, Lorcan. We’ve got you.”
Still nothing.
I keep to the same calming tone when I speak to Tiernan. “Can you ease your weight off his back? Just enough to let him breathe more easily.”
Tiernan mutters his dissent, but he leans gently to one side. I shuffle closer and extend my arm slowly until I can rest a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder.
“Look at me, brother,” I say firmly. “Hear my voice and look at me. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Lorcan’s arm continues to shake. He’s not easing off the pressure, but his head tilts towards me just a touch while his eyes remain downcast.
“Lorcan. Look at me.”
His gaze darts up and snags on mine. There’s no immediate recognition, but it’s a connection.
“You’re safe. We got you out.”
“Not going without her,” he gasps out. “Can’t leave. Won’t leave. Not until every bastard’s dead.”
His jaw clenches with determination and when a roar rumbles in his chest, cold dread runs icy fingers along my spine.
I’m scared he might actually win the tug of war with Ronan and Tiernan, but just as he’s about to erupt, his breath catches and his eyes widen, snagged on movement to my right.
When I hear the crunch of gravel, I pray it isn’t Malachy carrying the body across our brother’s line of sight.
Lorcan swallows hard as he continues to stare past me. “You’re here.”
Katarina crouches down next to me. “I’m here,” she says, using a tone similar to mine. Soft. Reassuring. Centered.
Tears shimmer in Lorcan’s eyes. Maybe mine too. Katarina looks nothing like our mother. They both have brown hair and eyes, but Mam’s eyes weren’t as dark, her hair not so silken. She was shorter and curvier too. And as fine a looking woman as you could possibly imagine.
Katarina takes a deep inhale through her nose, her head tilting back as air slowly expands her chest before she exhales through her mouth. Without prompting, Lorcan copies her. I find myself doing the same and after several repetitions, the tension starts to leave Lorcan’s body.
“I’m safe,” Katarina tells him. “You’re safe.”
When Lorcan hesitates, I give him the final nudge. “You can stand down, Lorcan. We’ve got this.”
Lorcan drags his gaze from Katarina, to me, then finally down to Ronan, whose face is sheened in sweat. The next breath Lorcan releases is a grunt. It takes a second or two for him to process where he is and what he’s doing, but the second it hits him, he drops the knife.
“Fuck!” Ronan yelps as the forfeited blade hits his cheek.
Tiernan wastes no time tipping to the side and pulling Lorcan with him. Ronan follows and the pair pin their brother to ground. Lorcan doesn’t object, his adrenaline-fueled energy source has been shut-off.
I crawl over to him. “Are you back with us?”
“Yeah,” he croaks. He manages a weak smile. “Unfortunately.”
I nod to the twins and they carefully release their grip and pull away. As I drag Lorcan up to sitting, Ronan and Tiernan get to their feet. Ronan has a slight cut to his cheek where the knife hit him, but it could have been so much worse.
“You’ve still got work to do,” I tell them.
“We have that,” Ronan says, dusting himself off. “Will we see you back at the truck?”
“You will.” I hold his gaze. “You did good. Both of you.”
The pair are about to leave when Lorcan holds out a shaking hand to stop them. “I’m…”
“It was nothing,” Ronan says with a shrug, stopping Lorcan before he can voice the apology. “But if you’re going to belt someone, can it be Tiernan next time?”
A good-natured spat erupts between the twins as they wander off. Katarina retreats too, leaving me alone with Lorcan.
“You need anything?” I ask.
“Just give me a second.”
There’s no more to be said. There’ll be no postmortem.
This has happened enough times to know that what he needs right now is space not smothering.
We might need another chat about going back to see his shrink at some point, and I’ll definitely be having words with Malachy.
He should have handled this better. I’m not going to be around every time this happens.
I shove a protein bar into Lorcan’s shaking hand, leaving him to get his bearings while I prowl over to Katarina. The compound backs onto a mountain and she’s staring up at its jagged ridges silhouetted against a deep blue, star-filled sky.
“We need to move soon if you’re going to hitch a ride back to Chicago with the Griffins,” I say. “I’ll be heading back to Las Vegas with my brothers. Unless… We could…”
Sneaking off somewhere together is such a stupid idea that I can’t bring myself to voice the suggestion. Katarina laughs anyway.
“I’ll be in my uncle’s bad books already for slipping my security detail today,” she says. “Assuming Vlad and Alexei have come around yet after popping one too many sleeping pills.”
“If you’re going to face reprisals, you shouldn’t go back.”
“And where would I go, Killian? Not with you, that’s for sure,” she says.
“Your father won’t want me anywhere near him or his family.
I was born a Barkov and there’s nothing you or I can ever do to change that.
” When she pauses, my silence tells her everything.
I can’t offer her refuge and we both know it.
“I’ll spin a story about sneaking off to see Duke Moncrief.
And if we announce our engagement soon, Vasili will calm down long enough for the Griffins to organize my permanent disappearance. ”
“I will see you again.”
Katarina releases a long sigh as she returns her gaze to the immovable mountain. “That’s not such a good idea.”
“Maybe not, but tonight was the start of something. No fucking way is it ending here.” I say it as a statement because that’s what it is. And for once, Katarina doesn’t argue. “Thanks for helping. With Lorcan.”
There are so many questions I want to ask, like how she recognized what was happening to my brother and knew how to help. I expect Katarina has her own questions too, but there’s plenty of time for that. I won’t consider there not being.
Lorcan clears his throat as he approaches from behind. He nods once to Katarina, a small but not insignificant acknowledgement of what she did for him. “Ready?” he asks me.
I step forward to greet him and grip the back of his neck. “We did good tonight.”
He gives me a lopsided smile. “It could have gone better.”
I recall the touch of Katarina’s hand around my cock just before we were interrupted. Yeah, things could have gone better. I drop my forehead to his. “It was good enough.”
Lorcan sniffs, begrudgingly accepting my verdict. I feel his brow furrowing as he sniffs again, deeper this time. “Why does your face smell of pussy?”
I don’t try to deny it. I won’t deny her so I squeeze Lorcan’s neck and pull away. “None of your fucking business.” The laughter in my throat dies when I see Malachy glaring at me. He heard.